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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The End of a Coil, by Susan Warner
+
+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 End of a Coil
+
+Author: Susan Warner
+
+Release Date: December 25, 2008 [EBook #27618]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE END OF A COIL ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Daniel Fromont.  HTML version by Al Haines.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Transcriber's note: Susan Warner, _The End of a Coil_ (1880)]
+
+
+
+
+THE END OF A COIL.
+
+
+BY
+
+SUSAN WARNER
+
+
+
+AUTHOR OF
+
+"THE WIDE, WIDE WORLD."
+
+
+
+"Well begun is half done."
+
+
+
+LONDON:
+
+JAMES NISBET & CO., 21 BERNERS STREET
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTE TO THE READER.
+
+As in the case of "My Desire," the turning facts of this story are
+fact; even to the most romantic and unlikely detail. In this is found,
+I hope, my justification for making the hero in one place repeat
+something very like what was said by the hero of Queechy on a like
+occasion. I was unwilling to disturb the absolute truth of the story,
+so far as I had it.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+CHAPTER
+
+      I. DOLLY'S ARRIVAL
+     II. CHRISTINA AND HER MOTHER
+    III. THE MARINE DICTIONARY
+     IV. THE "ACHILLES"
+      V. THE PIECE OF ROPE
+     VI. END OF SCHOOL TERM
+    VII. PLAYTHINGS
+   VIII. LONDON
+     IX. THE PEACOCKS
+      X. BRIERLEY COTTAGE
+     XI. IN THE PARK
+    XII. THE HOUSE
+   XIII. PREACHING AND PRACTICE
+    XIV. DIFFICULTIES
+     XV. THE CONSUL'S OFFICE
+    XVI. A FIGHT
+   XVII. RUPERT
+  XVIII. A SQUARE PARTY
+    XIX. SEEING SIGHTS
+     XX. LIMBURG
+    XXI. VENICE
+   XXII. MR. COPLEY
+  XXIII. THE WINE SHOP
+   XXIV. PAST GREATNESS
+    XXV. CHRISTMAS EVE
+   XXVI. NAPLES
+  XXVII. SORRENTO
+ XXVIII. AT THE VILLA
+   XXIX. WHITHER NOW?
+    XXX. DOWN HILL
+   XXXI. HANDS FULL
+  XXXII. THE NURSE
+ XXXIII. UNDER AN OAK TREE
+  XXXIV. UNDER THE SAME OAK
+   XXXV. WAYS AND MEANS
+  XXXVI. THIS PICTURE AND THAT
+
+
+
+
+THE END OF A COIL.
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+DOLLY'S ARRIVAL.
+
+The door stands open of a handsome house in Walnut Street--the Walnut
+Street which belongs to the city of William Penn; and on the threshold
+stands a lady, with her hand up to her brows, shielding her eyes from
+the light. She is watching to see what will come out of a carriage just
+driving up to the curbstone. The carriage stops; there descends first
+the figure of a handsome, very comfortable-looking gentleman. Mrs.
+Eberstein's eyes pass over him very cursorily; she has seen him before;
+and there is hardly a curl on his handsome head which his wife does not
+know by heart. What comes next? Ah, that is she!--the figure of the
+expected one; and a little girl of some eleven years is helped
+carefully out by Mr. Eberstein, and comes up the steps to the waiting
+and watching lady. A delicate little thing, delicate in frame and
+feature alike, with a fair, childish face, framed in by loose light
+brown curls, and a pair of those clear, grave, wise, light hazel eyes
+which have the power of looking so young and so spiritually old at
+once. Those eyes are the first thing that Mrs. Eberstein sees, and they
+fascinate her already. Meanwhile kind arms are opened wide, and take
+the little one in.
+
+"Come at last, darling! And do you remember your Aunt Hal? and are you
+half as glad to see her as she is to see you?" So Mrs. Eberstein gives
+her greeting, while she is drawing the child through the hall and into
+the parlour; gives it between kisses.
+
+"Why, no," said her husband, who had followed. "Be reasonable, Harry.
+She cannot be so glad to see you as we are to see her. She has just
+come from a long stage-coach journey; and she is tired, and she is
+hungry; and she has left a world she knows, and has come to a world she
+doesn't know; hey, Dolly? isn't it true? Tell your Aunt Hal to stop
+asking questions, and give you something to eat."
+
+"I have come to a world I don't know," repeated the little girl by way
+of answer, turning her serious small face to her questioner, while Mrs.
+Eberstein was busily taking off coat and hat and mufflers.
+
+"Yes, that's what I say!" returned Mr. Eberstein. "How do you like the
+look of it, hey?"
+
+"I wonder who is asking questions now!" said Mrs. Eberstein. "There,
+darling! now you are at home."
+
+She finished with another kiss; but, nevertheless, I think the feeling
+that it was a strange world she had come to, was rather prominent in
+Dolly. She suddenly stooped to a great Maltese cat that was lying on
+the hearthrug, and I am afraid the eyes were glad of an excuse to get
+out of sight. She touched the cat's fur tenderly and somewhat
+diligently.
+
+"She won't hurt you," said her aunt. "That is Mr. Eberstein's pet. Her
+name is Queen Mab."
+
+"She don't look much like a fairy," was Dolly's comment. Indeed, Queen
+Mab would outweigh most of her race, and was a magnificent specimen of
+good feeding.
+
+"You do," thought Mrs. Eberstein. Aloud she asked: "What do you know
+about fairies?"
+
+"Oh, I know they are only stories. I have read about them."
+
+"Fairy tales, eh?"
+
+"No, not much fairy tales," said Dolly, now rising up from the cat. "I
+have read about them in 'Midsummer Night's Dream.'"
+
+"'Midsummer Night's Dream,' you midget!" exclaimed Mrs. Eberstein.
+"Have you read that? And everything else you could lay hands on?"
+
+She took the child in her arms again as she spoke. Dolly gave a quiet
+assent.
+
+"And they let you do just what you like at home? and read just what you
+like?"
+
+Dolly smiled slightly at the obviousness of the course of action
+referred to; but the next minute the smile was quenched in a mist of
+tears, and she hid her head on Mrs. Eberstein's shoulder. Kisses and
+caresses of course followed, not successfully. At last Mr. Eberstein's
+repeated suggestion that food, in the circumstances, would be very much
+in place, was acted upon. Supper was served in the next room, which did
+duty for a dining-room; and the little family gathered round a
+bountifully spread table. There were only those three; and, naturally,
+the attention of the two elder was very much concentrated upon the
+third new member of the party; although Mr. Eberstein was hungry and
+proved it. The more Mrs. Eberstein studied her new acquisition,
+however, the more incitement to study she found. .
+
+Dolly was not like most children; one could see that immediately. Faces
+as pretty, and more pretty, could easily be found; the charm was not in
+mere flesh and blood, form or colour. Other children's faces are often
+innocent too, and free from the shadow of life's burdens, as this was.
+Nevertheless, it is not often, it is very rarely, that one sees the
+mingling of childish simplicity with that thoughtful, wise, spiritual
+look into life, which met one in Dolly's serious hazel orbs; not often
+that sweetness and character speak so early in the lines of the lips;
+utterly childish in their soft, free mobility, and yet revealing
+continually a trait of thoughtfulness or of strength, along with the
+happy play of an unqualified tender disposition. "You are lovely! you
+are lovely!" was Mrs. Eberstein's inner cry; and she had to guard
+herself that the thought did not come to too open expression. There was
+a delicate air of refinement also about the child, quite in keeping
+with all the rest of her; a neat and noiseless handling of knife and
+fork, cup and saucer; and while Dolly was evidently hungry as well as
+her uncle, she took what was given to her in a thoroughly high-bred
+way; that is, she made neither too much nor too little of it.
+
+Doubtless all the while she was using her power of observation, as Mrs.
+Eberstein was using hers, though the fact was not obtruded; for Dolly
+had heart wants quite as urgent as body wants. What she saw was
+reassuring. With Mr. Eberstein she had already been several hours in
+company, having travelled with him from New York. She was convinced of
+his genial kindness and steadfast honesty; all the lines of his
+handsome face, and every movement of his somewhat ease-loving person,
+were in harmony with that impression. Mrs. Eberstein was a fit mate for
+her husband. If Dolly had watched her a little anxiously at first, on
+account of her livelier manner, she soon made out to her satisfaction
+that nothing but kindness, large and bounteous, lodged behind her
+aunt's face, and gave its character to her aunt's manner. She knew
+those lively eyes were studying her; she knew just as well that nothing
+but good would come of the study.
+
+The meal over, Mrs. Eberstein took her niece upstairs to make her
+acquainted with her new quarters. It was a little room off the hall
+which had been destined for Dolly, opening out of her aunt's own; and
+it had been fitted up with careful affection. A small bedstead and
+dressing-table of walnut wood, a little chest of drawers, a little
+wardrobe; it was a wonder how so much could have been got in, but there
+was room for all. And then there were red curtains and carpet, and on
+the white spread a dainty little eider-down silk quilt; and on the
+dressing-table and chest of drawers pretty toilet napkins and
+pincushion. It was a cosy little apartment as ever eleven years old
+need delight in. Dolly forthwith hung up her hat and coat in the
+wardrobe; took brush and comb out of her travelling bag, and with
+somewhat elaborate care made her hair smooth; as smooth, that is, as a
+loose confusion of curly locks allowed; then signified that she was
+ready to go downstairs again. If Mrs. Eberstein had expected some
+remark upon her work, she was disappointed.
+
+In the drawing-room, she drew the child to sit down upon her knee.
+
+"Well, Dolly, what do you think you are going to do in Philadelphia?"
+
+"Go to school--they say."
+
+"Who says so?"
+
+"Father says so, and mother."
+
+"What do you think they want you to go to school for?"
+
+"I suppose that I may become like other people."
+
+Mr. Eberstein burst out into a laugh. His wife's eyes went over to him
+adjuringly.
+
+"Are you not like other people now, Dolly?"
+
+The child's sweet, thoughtful brown eyes were lifted to hers frankly,
+as she answered, "I don't know, ma'am."
+
+"Then why do you say that? or why do they say it?"
+
+"I don't know," said Dolly again. "I think they think so."
+
+"I daresay they do," said Mrs. Eberstein; "but if you were mine, I
+would rather have you unlike other people."
+
+"Why, Aunt Harry?"
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Eberstein; "now you'll have to go on and tell." And
+Dolly's eyes indeed looked expectant.
+
+"I think I like you best just as you are."
+
+Dolly's face curled all up into a smile at this; brow and eyes and
+cheeks and lips all spoke her sense of amusement; and stooping forward
+a little at the same time, she laid a loving kiss upon her aunt's
+mouth, who was unspeakably delighted with this expression of
+confidence. But then she repeated gravely--
+
+"I think they want me changed."
+
+"And pray, what are you going to do, with that purpose in view?"
+
+"I don't know. I am going to study, and learn things; a great many
+things."
+
+"I don't believe you are particularly ignorant for eleven years old."
+
+"Oh, I do not know anything!"
+
+"Can you write a nice hand?"
+
+Dolly's face wrinkled up again with a sense of the comical. She gave an
+unhesitating affirmative answer.
+
+"And you have read Shakespeare. What else, Dolly?"
+
+"Plutarch."
+
+"'Plutarch's Lives'?" said Mrs. Eberstein, while her husband again
+laughed out aloud. "Hush, Edward. Is it 'Plutarch's Lives,' my dear,
+that you mean? Caesar, and Alexander, and Pompey?"
+
+Dolly nodded. "And all the rest of them. I like them very much."
+
+"But what is your favourite book?"
+
+"That!" said Dolly.
+
+"I have got a whole little bookcase upstairs full of the books I used
+to read when I was a little girl. We will look into it to-morrow, and
+see what we can find. 'Plutarch's Lives' is not there."
+
+"Oh, I do not want that," said Dolly, her eyes brightening. "I have
+read it so much, I know it all."
+
+"Come here," said Mr. Eberstein; "your aunt has had you long enough;
+come here, Dolly, and talk to me. Tell me which of those old fellows
+you think was the best fellow?"
+
+"Of 'Plutarch's Lives'?" said Dolly, accepting a position upon Mr.
+Eberstein's knee now.
+
+"Yes; the men that 'Plutarch's Lives' tell about. Whom do you like
+best?"
+
+Dolly pondered, and then averred that she liked one for one thing and
+another for another. There ensued a lively discussion between her and
+Mr. Eberstein, in the course of which Dolly certainly brought to view
+some power of discrimination and an unbiassed original judgment; at the
+same time her manner retained the delicate quiet which characterised
+all that belonged to her. She held her own over against Mr. Eberstein,
+but she held it with an exquisite poise of ladylike good breeding; and
+Mr. Eberstein was charmed with her. The talk lasted until it was broken
+up by Mrs. Eberstein, who declared Dolly must go to rest.
+
+She went up herself with the child, and attended to her little
+arrangements; helped her undress; and when Dolly was fairly in bed,
+stood still looking at the bright little head on the pillow, thinking
+that the brown eyes were very wide open for the circumstances.
+
+"Are you very tired, darling?" she asked.
+
+"I don't know," said Dolly. "I guess not very."
+
+"Sleepy?"
+
+"No, I am not sleepy yet. I am wide awake."
+
+"Do you ever lie awake, after you have gone to bed?"
+
+"Not often. Sometimes."
+
+"What makes you do it?"
+
+"I don't know. I get thinking sometimes."
+
+"About what can such a midget as you get thinking?"
+
+Dolly's face wrinkled up a little in amusement at this question. "I see
+a great many things to think about," she answered.
+
+"It's too soon for you to begin that," said Mrs. Eberstein, shaking her
+head. Then she dropped down on her knees by the bedside, so as to bring
+her face nearer the child's.
+
+"Dolly, have you said your prayers?" she asked softly.
+
+The brown eyes seemed to lift their lids a little wider at that. "What
+do you mean, Aunt Harry?" she replied.
+
+"Do you never pray to the Lord Jesus before you go to sleep?"
+
+"I don't do it ever. I don't know anything about it."
+
+The thrill that went over Mrs. Eberstein at this happily the little one
+did not know. She went on very quietly in manner.
+
+"Don't you know what prayer is?"
+
+"It is what people do in church, isn't it?"
+
+"What is it that people do in church?"
+
+"I do not know," said Dolly. "I never thought about it."
+
+"It is what you do whenever you ask your father or mother for anything.
+Only that is prayer to your father or mother. This I mean is prayer to
+God."
+
+"We don't call it prayer, asking them anything," said Dolly.
+
+"No, we do not call it so. But it is really the same thing. We call it
+prayer, when we speak to God."
+
+"Why should I speak to God, Aunt Harry? I don't know how."
+
+"Why He is our Father in heaven, Dolly. Wouldn't it be a strange thing
+if children never spoke to their father?"
+
+"But they can't, if they don't know him," said Dolly.
+
+Here followed a strange thing, which no doubt had mighty after-effects.
+Mrs. Eberstein, who was already pretty well excited over the
+conversation, at these words broke down, burst into tears, and hid her
+face in the bedclothes. Dolly looked on in wondering awe, and an
+instant apprehension that the question here was about something real.
+Presently she put out her hand and touched caressingly Mrs. Eberstein's
+hair, moved both by pity and curiosity to put an end to the tears and
+have the talk begin again. Mrs. Eberstein lifted her face, seized the
+little hand and kissed it.
+
+"You see, darling," she said, "I want you to be God's own child."
+
+"How can I?"
+
+"If you will trust Jesus and obey Him. All who belong to Him are God's
+dear children; and He loves them, and the Lord Jesus loves them, and He
+takes care of them and teaches them, and makes them fit to be with Him
+and serve Him in glory by and by."
+
+"But I don't know about Jesus," said Dolly again.
+
+"Haven't you got a Bible?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Never read it?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Never went to Sunday School?"
+
+"No, ma'am."
+
+"Little Dolly, I am very glad you came to Philadelphia."
+
+"Why, Aunt Harry?"
+
+"Because I love you so much!" exclaimed Mrs. Eberstein, kissing the
+child's sweet mouth. "Why, Dolly, Jesus is the best, best friend we
+have got; nobody loves us so much in the whole world; He gave his life
+for us. And, then, He is the King of glory. He is everything that is
+loving, and true, and great, and good; 'the chiefest among ten
+thousand.'"
+
+"What did He give His life for?" said Dolly, whose eyes were growing
+more and more intent.
+
+"To save our lives, dear."
+
+"From what?"
+
+"Why, Dolly, you and I, and everybody, have broken God's beautiful law.
+The punishment for that is death; not merely the death of the body, but
+everlasting separation from God and His love and His favour; that is
+death; living death. To save us from that, Jesus died Himself; He paid
+our debt; He died instead of us."
+
+"Then is He dead?" said Dolly awefully.
+
+"He was dead; but He rose again, and now He lives, King over all. He
+was God as well as man, so the grave could not hold Him. But He paid
+our debt, darling."
+
+"You said, death was everlasting separation from God and good," said
+Dolly very solemnly.
+
+"For us, it would have been."
+
+"But He did not die that way?"
+
+"He could not, for He is the glorious Son of God. He only tasted death
+for us; that we might not drink the bitter cup to eternity."
+
+"Aunt Harry," said Dolly, "is all that true?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"When did He do that?"
+
+"It is almost nineteen hundred years ago. And since then, if any one
+trusts His word and is willing to be His servant, Jesus loves him, and
+keeps him, and saves him, and makes him blessed for ever."
+
+"But why did He do that? what made Him?"
+
+"His great love for us."
+
+"Us?" Dolly repeated.
+
+"Yes. You and me, and everybody. He just came to save that which was
+lost."
+
+"I don't see how He can love me," said Dolly slowly. "Why, I am a
+stranger to Him, Aunt Harry."
+
+"Ah, you are no stranger! Oh yes, Dolly, He loves you dearly; and He
+knows all about you."
+
+Dolly considered the matter a little, and also considered her aunt,
+whose lips were quivering and whose eyes were dropping tears. With a
+very serious face Dolly considered the matter: and came to a conclusion
+with promptitude unusual in this one subject of all the world. She half
+rose up in her bed.
+
+"Then I love Him," she said. "I will love Him, too, Aunt Harry."
+
+"Will you, my darling?"
+
+"But I do not know how to be His servant."
+
+"Jesus will teach you Himself, if you ask Him."
+
+"How will He teach me?"
+
+"He will make you understand His word, and let you know what pleases
+Him. He says, 'If ye love me, keep My commandments.'"
+
+"His commandments are in the Bible, aren't they?"
+
+"Certainly. You say you have not got a Bible?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then we will see about that to-morrow, the first thing we do. You
+shall have a Bible, and that will tell you about His commandments."
+
+"Aunt Harry, I would like Him to know to-night that I love Him."
+
+"Then tell Him so, dear."
+
+"Can I?"
+
+"To be sure you can. Why not?"
+
+"I do not know how."
+
+"Tell Him, Dolly, just as if the Lord Jesus were here present and you
+could see Him. He is here, only you do not see Him; that is all the
+difference Tell Him, Dolly, just as you would tell me; only remember
+that you are speaking to the King. He would like to hear you say that."
+
+"I ought to kneel down when I speak to Him, oughtn't I? People do in
+church."
+
+"It is proper, when we can, to take a position of respect when we speak
+to the King; don't you think so?"
+
+Dolly shuffled herself up upon her knees in the bed, not regarding much
+that Mrs. Eberstein threw a shawl round her shoulders; and waited a
+minute or two, looking intensely serious and considering. Then laying
+her hands involuntarily together, but with her eyes open, she spoke.
+
+"O Lord Jesus,--Aunt Harry says you are here though I cannot see you.
+If you are here, you can see, and you know that I love you; and I will
+be your servant. I never knew about you before, or I would have done it
+before. Now I do. Please to teach me, for I do not know anything, that
+I may do everything that pleases you. I will not do anything that don't
+please you. Amen."
+
+Dolly waited a moment, then turned and put her arms round her aunt's
+neck and kissed her. "Thank you!"--she said earnestly; and then lay
+down and arranged herself to sleep.
+
+Mrs. Eberstein went downstairs and astonished her husband by a burst of
+hysterical weeping. He made anxious enquiries; and at last received an
+account of the last half-hour.
+
+"But, oh, Edward, what do you think?" she concluded. "Did you ever hear
+anything like that in your life? Do you think it can be genuine?"
+
+"Genuine what?" demanded her husband.
+
+"Why, I mean, can it be true religious conversion? This child knows
+next to nothing; just that Jesus died out of love to her, to save
+her,--nothing more."
+
+"And she has given her love back. Very logical and reasonable; and
+ought not to be so uncommon."
+
+"But it is uncommon, Edward. At least, people generally make a longer
+business of it."
+
+"In which they do not show their wisdom."
+
+"No; but they do it. Edward, can it be that this child is so suddenly a
+Christian? Will it stand?"
+
+"Only time can show that. But Harry, all the cases,--almost all the
+cases reported in the New Testament are cases of sudden yielding. Just
+look at it. John and Andrew took but a couple of hours or so to make up
+their minds. Nathanael did not apparently take more than two minutes
+after he saw Christ. Lydia became a Christian at her first hearing the
+good news; the eunuch made up his mind as quick. Why should not little
+Dolly? The trouble is caused only by people's obstinate resistance."
+
+"Then you think it may be true work?"
+
+"Of course I think so. This child is not an ordinary child, there is
+that to be said."
+
+"No," said Mrs. Eberstein thoughtfully. "Is she not peculiar? She is
+such a child; and yet there is such a wise, deep look in her brown
+eyes. What pretty eyes they are! There is the oddest mixture of old and
+young in her I ever saw. She is going to be lovely, Edward!"
+
+"I think she is lovely now."
+
+"Oh yes! but I mean, when she grows up. She will be very lovely, with
+those spiritual eyes and that loose curly brown hair; if only she can
+be kept as she is now."
+
+"My dear, she cannot be that!"
+
+"Oh, you know what I mean, Edward. If she can be kept unspoiled;
+untainted; unsophisticated; with that sort of mixture of wisdom and
+simplicity which she has now. I wish we need not send her to school."
+
+"We have no choice about that. And the Lord can keep His own. Let us
+ask Him."
+
+They knelt and did so; with some warm tears on Mrs. Eberstein's part,
+and great and warm earnestness in them both.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+CHRISTINA AND HER MOTHER.
+
+Mrs. Eberstein watched during the next few days, to see, if she could,
+whether the sudden resolve taking on Dolly's part that first evening
+"meant anything," as she expressed it, or not. She remained in doubt.
+Dolly was thoughtful certainly, and sweet certainly; "but that don't
+tell," Mrs. Eberstein remarked; "it is her characteristic." It was
+equally certain that she had attached herself with a trustful, clinging
+affection to the new friends whose house and hearts had received her.
+Dolly's confidence was given to them fully and heartily from that very
+first day; and they saw that it was.
+
+Nearly a week passed before the school-term began. Meanwhile Dolly was
+taken about, in walks and drives, to see all that her friends thought
+would interest her. Everything interested her, they found; and upon
+every subject presented to her, her little head went to work; the
+result of which was the putting of a question now and then, which
+afforded her guardians, perhaps, as much entertainment as the ground of
+the question had given Dolly. These questions, however, were called
+forth most of all by the subject which had seized hold of Dolly's mind
+with such force that first evening. Mrs. Eberstein had not forgotten
+her promise about the Bible. One of the first expeditions undertaken
+the next day had been in search of one; successful, in the judgment of
+both Dolly and her aunt; and since then the book was very often to be
+seen in Dolly's hands.
+
+"What are you reading there, Dolly?" Mr. Eberstein asked, corning in
+one evening just before dinner. Dolly was on a low seat at the corner
+of the fireplace, reading by the shine of a fire of Liverpool coal,
+which threw warm lights all over the little figure. She looked up and
+said it was her Bible she was studying.
+
+"You will put out your eyes."
+
+"Oh no, Uncle Edward; the print is so good, and the fire makes such a
+nice blaze, I can see perfectly."
+
+"And pray, what are you looking for, or what are you finding, in that
+book, little one?"
+
+"I am looking for a great deal,--and I am finding a little," was
+Dolly's reply.
+
+"Different with me," said Mr. Eberstein with a short laugh. "I
+generally find more in the Bible than I look for."
+
+"What do you look for in it?" said Dolly, raising her head which had
+gone down to the reading.
+
+Mr. Eberstein laughed again.
+
+"Truly, Dolly," he said, "you have hit me there! I believe I often open
+the Bible without looking for anything in particular."
+
+"Perhaps that makes the difference," said Dolly, letting her eyes fall
+again to her page.
+
+"Perhaps it does; but, Dolly, I should very much like to know what you
+are looking for?"
+
+"I am looking to find out the will of God, Uncle Edward."
+
+"Come here, my pet," said Mr. Eberstein, coaxing the little girl into
+his arms and setting her on his knee. "What do you want to find out the
+will of God for? what about?"
+
+"About me."
+
+"What do you want to know the will of God about you for?"
+
+"I want to do it, Uncle Edward."
+
+"There couldn't be a better reason. Jesus says, 'He that hath My
+commandments, and keepeth them, he it is that loveth Me.' Do you find
+what you seek?"
+
+"I find some," said Dolly.
+
+"Where were you reading just now?"
+
+"About Abraham."
+
+"Abraham! What do you find in Abraham's life, may I ask, that tells you
+the will of God about Dolly Copley? You are not called upon to leave
+your country and go out into a strange land."
+
+"No; not that. But God said to Abraham, 'Walk before Me, and be thou
+perfect.' And it puzzles me."
+
+"What puzzles you?"
+
+"I don't see how I can 'walk before Him.'"
+
+"Dolly,--the Lord is here, here where we are, wherever we are."
+
+"Yes. I know that."
+
+"Then, if you know that and remember it, and do everything you do in
+His presence, and feeling that it is in His presence, you will be
+walking before Him; don't you see? Just as if Jesus were here again
+upon earth, and you were always with Him; only you do not see Him now.
+He sees you."
+
+"And 'be perfect'?" said Dolly questioningly.
+
+"Yes. That means, I think, don't try to serve two masters. If you love
+God with all your heart, and give Him your whole life and service,--not
+a part of it,--that is what the word to Abraham means, I think. A
+servant of God is a perfect servant, if he does all the will of God
+that he knows, and as fast as he knows it. But you cannot do that of
+yourself, little Dolly."
+
+"Why cannot I, if I want to?"
+
+"Why, because there come temptations, and there come difficulties; and
+you will want to do something you like, and not what God likes; and you
+will do it too, unless the Lord Jesus keeps fast hold of you and saves
+you from making such a mistake. Only He can."
+
+"Can He?"
+
+"Certainly He can."
+
+"Will He?"
+
+"If you want Him to do it, and trust Him to do it, He will. He will
+just do all that you trust Him to do."
+
+Dolly pondered. "Will He do that because He loves me?" she asked.
+
+"Just for that reason, Dolly."
+
+"Then He will do it," said Dolly confidently; "for I will trust Him.
+Won't you show me where he says that, Uncle Edward?"
+
+Mr. Eberstein told Dolly to find Matt. xxi. 21. Dolly read eagerly--
+
+"Jesus answered and said unto them, Verily I say unto you, If ye have
+faith, and doubt not, ye shall not only do this which is done to the
+fig-tree, but also if ye shall say unto this mountain, Be thou removed,
+and be thou cast into the sea, it shall be done. And all things
+whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer, believing, ye shall receive."
+
+Dolly read to herself, then looked up, eager and confident, for the
+next reference.
+
+"Turn to John xv. 7."
+
+Again Dolly found and read, in silence--
+
+"If ye abide in Me, and My words abide in you, ye shall ask what ye
+will, and it shall be done unto you."
+
+"What next, Uncle Edward?"
+
+"Isn't that promise enough?"
+
+"Yes; but I thought you had more."
+
+"There is a great deal more. Look out Thessalonians v. 23, 24."
+
+Dolly read, slowly, aloud now--
+
+"'And the very God of peace sanctify you wholly; and I pray God your
+whole spirit and soul and body be preserved blameless unto the coming
+of our Lord Jesus Christ. Faithful is He that calleth you, who also
+will do it.' That is beautiful, Uncle Edward!"
+
+"Do you want another? Find Jude, and read the 24th and 25th verses."
+
+With some trouble Dolly found it.
+
+"'Now unto Him that is able to keep you from falling, and to present
+you faultless before the presence of His glory with exceeding joy, to
+the only wise God our Saviour, be glory and majesty, dominion and
+power, both now and ever. Amen.'"
+
+Dolly slipped off Mr. Eberstein's knee and retook her old place by the
+fire; where she sat turning from one passage to another of those she
+had been reading. Mr. Eberstein watched her, how the ribbon markers of
+the Bible were carefully laid in two of the places, and a couple of
+neat slips of paper prepared for the others.
+
+"What have you been doing to-day, Dolly?" he asked at length.
+
+"We went to see the water works."
+
+"Oh, you did! And what did you think of the water works?"
+
+"We went up to the top and walked about. Do the people in Philadelphia
+want so much water as all that?"
+
+"They want a great deal more. The Fairmount works give only enough for
+part of the city."
+
+"That is taking a great deal of trouble to get water."
+
+"It would be worse trouble to do without it."
+
+"But why don't people all live in the country, as we do at home? then
+they would have water for nothing."
+
+"Humph! That would answer, Dolly, if people were contented with water;
+they all want wine. I mean, my child, that most people are not
+satisfied with simple doings; and for anything more they must have
+money; and they can make money faster in cities. Therefore they build
+cities."
+
+"Is _that_ what they build cities for?" said Dolly.
+
+"Largely. Not altogether. A great many things can be better done where
+people are congregated together; it is for the convenience of trade and
+business, in many kinds and in many ways. What have you been doing
+since you came home from the water works?"
+
+"O Uncle Edward!" said Dolly, suddenly rising now and coming to him,
+"Aunt Harry has opened for me her old bookcase!"
+
+"What old bookcase? I didn't know she had an old bookcase."
+
+"Oh yes; the one where she keeps the books she had when she was as old
+as I am."
+
+"And as young, eh? Well, what is in that bookcase? is it a great find?"
+
+"O Uncle Edward, there is a great deal in it! It is wonderful. Books I
+never saw, and they look so interesting!"
+
+"What, for instance? Something to rival Plutarch's Lives?"
+
+"I don't know," said Dolly; "you know I have not read them yet. There
+is 'Sandford and Merton;' I was reading in that, and I like it very
+much; and the 'Looking Glass' is another; and 'Rosamond' I am sure is
+interesting. Oh there is a whole load of them."
+
+
+"Well I am glad of it," said Mr. Eberstein. "That is the right sort of
+stuff for your busy little brain; will not weigh too heavy. Now I
+suppose you will be reading all the time you are in the house."
+
+"Aunt Harry has begun to teach me to knit."
+
+"Very good," said Mr. Eberstein. "I believe in knitting too. That's
+safe."
+
+They went to dinner, and after dinner there was a further knitting
+lesson, in which Dolly seemed absorbed; nevertheless, before the
+evening was over she brought up a very different subject again.
+
+"Aunt Harry," she began, in the midst of an arduous effort to get the
+loops of wool on her needles in the right relative condition,--"does
+mother know about the Bible?"
+
+"Yes," said Mrs. Eberstein, with a glance at her husband, "she knows
+about it, something."
+
+"Then why did she never tell me anything about it?"
+
+Mrs. Eberstein hesitated.
+
+"I suppose, Dolly, her thoughts were fuller of other things."
+
+"But how _could_ they be?" said the little one, laying her hands with
+their knitting work in her lap, and looking up.
+
+Her aunt did not answer.
+
+"How could her thoughts be fuller of other things, if she knows the
+Bible?" Dolly urged.
+
+"I don't think she really knows much of what is in the Bible," Mrs.
+Eberstein said. "She has never read it much."
+
+"I don't think she knows about Jesus," Dolly went on gravely; "for she
+never told me; and she would if she had known, I think. Aunt Harriet, I
+think _I_ ought to tell _her_ now."
+
+"What would you tell her, my darling?"
+
+"Oh, I will tell her that I know Him and love Him; and I will tell her
+I have got a Bible, and some of the things I have found in it. I will
+ask her to get one too, and read it. I don't believe she knows."
+
+"The reason why a great many people do not know, Dolly, is, as your
+Aunt Harry says, that they are so much taken up with other things."
+
+"Then I think one ought to take care not to be too much taken up with
+other things," said Dolly very seriously.
+
+"But you have got to be taken up with other things," Mr. Eberstein went
+on. "Here you are going to school in a few days; then your head will be
+full of English and French, and your hands full of piano keys and harp
+strings, from morning till night. How are you going to do?"
+
+Dolly looked at the speaker, came and placed herself on his knee again,
+and laid a hand on his shoulder; eyeing him steadily.
+
+"Ought I not to go to school?"
+
+"Must!--else you cannot be the right sort of a woman, and do the right
+sort of work."
+
+"How then, Uncle Edward? what shall I do?"
+
+"I'll tell you one thing, Dolly. Don't study and practise to get ahead
+of somebody else; but to please the King!"
+
+"The King--that is Jesus?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+Dolly nodded, in full agreement with the rule of action as thus stated;
+presently brought forward another idea.
+
+"Will He care? Would it please Him to have me play on the piano, or
+learn French and arithmetic?"
+
+"Dolly, the more you know, and the better you know it, the better
+servant you can be; you will have the more to use for Jesus."
+
+"Can I use such things for Him? How?"
+
+"Many ways. He will show you how. Do you think an ignorant woman could
+do as much in the world as an elegant, well-informed, accomplished
+woman?"
+
+Dolly thought over this question, nodded as one who had come to an
+understanding of it, and went back to her knitting.
+
+"What ever will become of that child," said Mrs. Eberstein an hour or
+two later, when she and her husband were alone. "I am full of anxiety
+about her."
+
+"Then you are taking upon you the part of Providence."
+
+"No, but, Edward, Dolly will have a history."
+
+"So have we all," Mr. Eberstein responded very unresponsively.
+
+"But she will not have a common history. Do you see how open she is to
+receive impressions, and how fast they stay once they are made?"
+
+"I see the first quality. I never saw a creature quicker to take
+impressions or to welcome affections. Whether they will prove as
+lasting as they are sudden,--that we have no means of knowing at
+present."
+
+"I think they will."
+
+"That's a woman's conclusion, founded on her wishes."
+
+"It is a man's conclusion too; for you think the same thing, Edward."
+
+"Don't prove anything, Harry."
+
+"Yes, it does. When two people come to the same independent view of
+something, it is fair to suppose there are grounds for it."
+
+"I hope so. Time will show."
+
+"But, Edward, with this extremely sensitive and affectionate nature,
+how important it is that Dolly should have only the right surroundings,
+and see only the right sort of people."
+
+"Just so. And so she is going out into the world of a large school;
+where she will meet all sorts of people and be subjected to all sorts
+of influences; and you cannot shield her."
+
+"I wish I could keep her at home, and have her taught here! I wish I
+could!"
+
+"Playing Providence again. We all like to do it."
+
+"No, but, Edward, just look at her," said Mrs. Eberstein with her eyes
+full of tears.
+
+"I do," said Mr. Eberstein. "I've got eyes. But you will have to trust
+her, Harry."
+
+"Now she will go, I have no doubt, and write that letter to her mother.
+I wonder if Sally will get scared, and take her away from us?"
+
+"Why, Hal," said her husband, "your self-will is getting up very strong
+to-night! What if? Dolly's future does not depend upon us; though we
+will do what we can for it."
+
+What they did then, was to pray about it again; for these people
+believed in prayer.
+
+The next day Mrs. Eberstein had invited an acquaintance to come to
+dinner. This acquaintance had a daughter, also about to enter Mrs.
+Delancy's school; and Mrs. Eberstein's object was to let the two girls
+become a little known to each other, so that Dolly in the new world she
+was about to enter might not feel everything utterly strange. Mrs.
+Thayer belonged to a good New York family; and it likewise suited her
+purposes to have her daughter received in so unexceptionable a house as
+Mrs. Eberstein's, albeit the young lady was not without other
+Philadelphia friends. So the party fitted together very harmoniously.
+Mrs. Thayer, in spite of her good connections, was no more than a
+commonplace personage. Christina, her daughter, on the other hand,
+showed tokens of becoming a great beauty. A little older than Dolly, of
+larger build and more flesh and blood development generally, and with
+one of those peach-blossom complexions which for fairness and delicacy
+almost rival the flower. Her hair was pretty, her features also pretty,
+her expression placid. Mrs. Eberstein was much struck.
+
+"They are just about of an age," remarked Mrs. Thayer. "I suppose they
+will study the same things. Everybody studies the same things. Well, I
+hope you'll be friends and not rivals, my dears."
+
+"Dolly will not be rivals with anybody," returned Dolly's aunt.
+
+"She don't look very strong. I should think it would not do for her to
+study too hard," said the other lady. "Oh, rivalry is necessary, you
+know, to bring out the spirit of boys and girls and make them work. It
+may be friendly rivalry; but if they were not rivals they would not be
+anything; might as well not be school girls, or school boys. They would
+not do any work but what they liked, and we know what that would amount
+to. I don't know about beating learning into boys; some people say that
+is the way; but with girls you can't take that way; and all you have to
+fall back upon is emulation."
+
+"Very few young people will study for the love of it," Mrs. Eberstein
+so far assented.
+
+"They might, I believe, if the right way was taken," Mr. Eberstein
+remarked.
+
+"Emulation will do it, if a girl has any spirit," said Mrs. Thayer.
+
+"What sort of spirit?"
+
+"What sort of spirit! Why, the spirit not to let themselves be outdone;
+to stand as high as anybody, and higher; be No. 1, and carry off the
+first honours. A spirited girl don't like to be No. 2. Christina will
+never be No. 2."
+
+"Is it quite certain that such a spirit is the one to be cultivated?"
+
+"It makes them study,"--said Mrs. Thayer, looking at her questioner to
+see what he meant.
+
+"What do you think the Bible means, when it tells us not to seek for
+honour?"
+
+"_Not_ to seek for honour?" repeated the lady.
+
+"Not the honour that comes from man."
+
+"I didn't know it forbade it. I never heard that it was forbidden. Why,
+Mr. Eberstein, it is _natural_ to wish for honour. Everybody wishes for
+it."
+
+"So they do," Mr. Eberstein assented. "I might say, so _we_ do."
+
+"It is natural," repeated the lady.
+
+"Its being natural does not prove it to be right."
+
+"Why, Mr. Eberstein, if it is _natural_, we cannot help it."
+
+"How then does trying to be No. 1 agree with the love that 'seeketh not
+her own'?"
+
+Dolly was listening earnestly, Mr. Eberstein saw. Mrs. Thayer
+hesitated, in some inward disgust.
+
+"Do you take that literally?" she said then. "How can you take it
+literally? You cannot."
+
+"But Christ pleased not Himself."
+
+"Well, but He was not like us."
+
+"We are bidden to be like him, though."
+
+"Oh, as far as we can. But you cannot press those words literally, Mr.
+Eberstein."
+
+"As far as we can? I _must_ press them, for the Bible does. I ask no
+more, and the Lord demands no more, than that we be like our Master _as
+far as we can_. And He 'pleased not himself,' and 'received not honour
+from men.'"
+
+"If you were to preach such doctrine in schools, I am afraid you would
+have very bad recitations."
+
+"Well!" said Mr. Eberstein. "Better bad recitations than bad hearts.
+Though really there is no necessary connection between my premises and
+your conclusion. The Bible reckons 'emulations,' Mrs. Thayer, in the
+list of the worst things human nature knows, and does."
+
+"Then you would have a set of dunces. I should just like to be told,
+Mr. Eberstein, how on that principle you would get young people to
+study. In the case of girls you cannot do it by beating; nor in the
+case of boys, after they have got beyond being little boys. Then
+emulation comes in, and they work like beavers to get the start of one
+another. And so we have honours, and prizes, and distinctions. Take all
+that away, and how would you do, Mr. Eberstein?"
+
+Mr. Eberstein was looking fondly into a pair of young eyes that were
+fixedly gazing at him. So looking, he spoke,
+
+"There is another sort of '_Well done!_' which I would like my Dolly
+and Miss Christina to try for. If they are in earnest in trying for
+that, they will study!" said Mr. Eberstein.
+
+Mrs. Thayer thought, apparently, that it was no use talking on the
+subject with a visionary man; and she turned to something else. The
+party left the dinner-table, and Dolly took her new acquaintance
+upstairs to show her the treasure contained in Mrs. Eberstein's old
+bookcase.
+
+"Mr. Eberstein is rather a strange man, isn't he?" said Miss Christina
+on the way.
+
+"No," said Dolly. "I don't think he is. What makes you say so?"
+
+"I never heard any one talk like that before."
+
+"Perhaps," said Dolly, stopping short on the landing place and looking
+at her companion. Then she seemed to change her manner of attack. "Who
+do you want to please most?" she said.
+
+"With my studies? Why, mamma, of course."
+
+"I would rather please the Lord Jesus," said Dolly.
+
+"But I was talking about _school work_," retorted the other. "You don't
+suppose _He_ cares about our lessons?"
+
+"I guess He does," said Dolly. They were still standing on the landing
+place, looking into each other's eyes.
+
+"But that's impossible. Think!--French lessons, and English lessons,
+and music and dancing, and all of it. That couldn't be, you know."
+
+"Do you love Jesus?" said Dolly.
+
+"Love him? I do not know," said Christina colouring. "I am a member of
+the church, if that is what you mean."
+
+Dolly began slowly to go up the remaining stairs. "I think we ought to
+study to please Him," she said.
+
+"I don't see how it should please him," said the other a little out of
+humour. "I don't see how He should care about such little things."
+
+"Why not?" said Dolly. "If your mother cares, and my mother cares.
+Jesus loves us better than they do, and I guess He cares more than they
+do."
+
+Christina was silenced now, as her mother had been, and followed Dolly
+thinking there were a _pair_ of uncomfortably strange people in the
+house. The next minute Dolly was not strange at all, but as much a
+child as any of her fellows. She had unlocked the precious bookcase,
+and with the zeal of a connoisseur and the glee of a discoverer she was
+enlarging upon the treasures therein stowed away.
+
+"Here is 'Henry Milner,'" she said, taking down three little red
+volumes. "Have you read that? Oh, it is delightful! I like it almost
+best of all. But I have not had time to read much yet. Here is 'Harry
+and Lucy,' and 'Rosamond,' and 'Frank.' I have just looked at them. And
+'Sandford and Merton.' do you know 'Sandford and Merton'? I have just
+read that."
+
+"There are the 'Arabian Nights,'" said Christina.
+
+"Is that good? I haven't read much yet. I don't know almost any of
+them."
+
+"'The Looking-Glass'"--Christina went on--"'Pity's Gift'--'Father's
+Tales.'"
+
+"Those are beautiful," Dolly put in. "I read one, about 'Grandfather's
+old arm-chair.' Oh, it's _very_ interesting."
+
+"'Elements of Morality'"--Christina read further on the back of a
+brown book.
+
+"That don't sound good, but I guess it _is_ good," said Dolly. "I just
+peeped in, and 'Evenings at Home' looks pretty. Here is 'Robinson
+Crusoe,' and 'Northern Regions;' I want to read that very much. I guess
+it's delightful."
+
+"Have you ever been to school before?" said Christina. The books had a
+faint interest for her.
+
+"No," said Dolly.
+
+"Nor have I; but I know somebody who has been at Mrs. Delancy's, and
+she says there is one lovely thing at that school. Every month they go
+somewhere."
+
+"They--go--somewhere," Dolly echoed the words. "Who go?"
+
+"Everybody; teachers and scholars and all. There is a holiday; and Mrs.
+Delancy takes them all to see something. One time it was a rope walk, I
+think; and another time it was a paper-mill; and sometimes it's a
+picture-gallery. It's something very interesting."
+
+"I suppose we are not _obliged_ to go, are we, if we don't want to?"
+
+"Oh, but we _do_ want to. I do."
+
+"I would just as lief be at home with my Aunt Harry," said Dolly,
+looking lovingly at the book-case. But Christina turned away from it.
+
+"They dress a great deal at this school," she said. "Does your mother
+dress you a great deal?"
+
+"I don't know," said Dolly. "I don't know what you mean."
+
+"Well, what's your school dress? what is it made of?"
+
+"My school dress for every day! It is grey poplin. It is not new."
+
+"Poplin will do, I suppose," said Christina. "But some of the girls
+wear silk; old silk dresses, you know, but really handsome still, and
+very stylish."
+
+"What do you mean by 'stylish'?" said Dolly.
+
+"Why don't you know what 'stylish' means?"
+
+"No."
+
+Christina looked doubtfully at her new little companion. Where could
+Dolly have come from, and what sort of people could she belong to, who
+did not know _that?_ The truth was, that Dolly being an only child and
+living at home with her father and mother, had led a very childish life
+up to this time; and her mother, owing to some invalidism, had lately
+been withdrawn from the gay world and its doings. So, though the thing
+was greatly upon her mother's heart, the word had never made itself
+familiar to Dolly's ear. Christina was reassured, however, by observing
+that the little girl's dress was quite what it ought to be, and
+certainly bespoke her as belonging to people who "knew what was what."
+So the practice was all right, and Dolly needed only instruction in the
+theory.
+
+"'Stylish,'"--she repeated. "It means--It is very hard to tell you
+what it means. Don't you know? 'Stylish' means that things have an air
+that belongs to the right kind of thing, and only what you see in a
+certain sort of people. It is the way things look when people know how."
+
+"Know how, what?" inquired Dolly.
+
+"Know how things ought to be; how they ought to be worn, and how they
+ought to be done."
+
+"Then everybody ought to be stylish," said Dolly.
+
+"Yes, but you cannot, my dear, unless you happen to know how."
+
+"But I should think one could always know how things ought to be,"
+Dolly went on. "The Bible tells."
+
+"The Bible!" echoed Christina.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"The Bible tell one how to be stylish!"
+
+"The Bible tells how things ought to be."
+
+"Why, no, it don't, child! the Bible don't tell you what sort of a hat
+to put on."
+
+"Yes, it does, Christina. The Bible says, 'Whether you eat or drink, or
+whatsoever you do, do all to the glory of God.' I can show you the
+words."
+
+"Oh, that is something quite different. That has nothing to do with
+being stylish. How shall I make you understand? If your cravat wasn't
+tied in a nice bow there, it wouldn't be stylish."
+
+"Well," returned Dolly, "it wouldn't be to the glory of God either."
+
+"What has that to do with it?"
+
+"I think it would be wrong for a Christian to be anything but nice."
+
+"Oh, it isn't being _nice!_" said Christina. "Your dress wouldn't be
+stylish if it hadn't those flounces."
+
+"And is it now?"
+
+"Yes--I think it is. I should say, your mother knows what is what. It
+isn't very easy to be stylish if you are poor; but I've seen people do
+it, though."
+
+"I don't think I understand, quite," said Dolly. "But when I am old
+enough to dress myself,--to choose my own dresses, I mean, I shall
+dress to please Jesus, Christina."
+
+"You can't," said Christina. "I never heard of such a thing. It's
+making religion little, I think, to talk so."
+
+"I think, if religion isn't little, it'll _do_ so," answered Dolly.
+Whereby each kept her own opinion; notwithstanding which, at the end of
+the afternoon they separated, mutually pleased each with her new
+acquaintance.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE MARINE DICTIONARY.
+
+As the weeks of the first school term went on, the two girls drew
+nearer to each other. Everybody inclined towards Dolly indeed; the
+sweet, fresh, honest little face, with the kindly affections beaming
+forth from it, and the sensitive nature quick to feel pleasure or pain,
+and alive to fun in the midst of its seriousness, made such a quaint
+mingling and such a curious variety and such a lovely creature, that
+all sorts of characters were drawn towards her. From the head of the
+school down, teachers and pupils, there was hardly one whose eye did
+not soften and whose lips did not smile at Dolly's approach. With
+Christina, on the other hand, it was not just so. She was not
+particularly clever, not particularly emotional, not specially
+sociable; calm and somewhat impassive, with all her fair beauty she was
+overlooked in the practical "selection" which takes place in school
+life; so that little Dolly after all came to be Christina's best
+friend. Dolly never passed her over; was never unsympathetic; never
+seemed to know her own popularity; and Christina's slow liking grew
+into a real and warm affection as the passing days gave her more and
+more occasion. In the matter of "style," it appears, Dolly had enough
+to satisfy her; thanks to her mother; for Dolly herself was as
+unconventional in spirit and manner as a child should be. In school
+work proper, on the other hand, she was a pattern of diligence and
+faithfulness; gave her teachers no trouble; of course had the good word
+and good will of every one of them. Was it the working of Mr.
+Eberstein's rule?
+
+The first monthly holiday after school began was spent in Fairmount
+Park. A few weeks later, Dolly and Christina were sitting together one
+day, busy with some fancy work, when one of their schoolmates came up
+to them.
+
+"Guess where we are going next week!" she cried.
+
+"Next week?" said the others, looking up.
+
+"Next holiday--next week--next Saturday. Yes. Where do you think we are
+going? Just guess. Oh, you can't guess."
+
+"I can't guess," said Dolly; "I don't know what there is to go to. The
+Mint? Mrs. Delancy did speak of the Mint."
+
+"Not a bit of it! Something else has come up. Guess again."
+
+"Something has _come up_. Then it must be something new."
+
+"It isn't new, either. Can't a thing come to you that isn't new?"
+
+"But you're talking riddles, Eudora," the other two said, laughing.
+
+"Well, I'll tell you. There's a man-of-war come up the river."
+
+"A man-of-war"--Dolly repeated.
+
+"You know what that means, I hope, Dolly Copley?"
+
+"I don't know. It means a soldier. The Bible says, Goliath was a
+man-of-war from his youth."
+
+Dolly as she spoke looked mystified, and her words were met by a shout
+of laughter so loud and ringing that it almost abashed the child. Some
+other girls had joined the group and were standing around, and there
+were many to laugh. However, Dolly was never given to false shame. She
+waited for more light.
+
+"It's a _ship_, Dolly," they cried. "You dear little innocent, don't
+you know as much as that?"
+
+"It's a ship; and this is a big one. It is lying out in the Delaware."
+
+"Then why is it called a man-of-war?" said Dolly.
+
+"Because it is a war ship. Won't it be fun! just think!--the guns, and
+the officers, and the midshipmen!"
+
+"What are midshipmen?"
+
+"I don't know!" cried another. "They are somebodies that are always on
+a man-of-war; and they are young too. Baby officers, I suppose."
+
+"They _are_ officers," said the first speaker.
+
+"No, they're not. They are learning to be officers. They're at school,
+and their school is a man-of-war; and their teachers are the captain,
+and the lieutenants, and so on."
+
+"And what are their lessons about?" said Dolly.
+
+"_I_ don't know. Oh, they are learning to be officers, you know. Really
+they are boys at school."
+
+"Some of them are old enough," remarked another.
+
+"Learning _what_, Eudora?" said Dolly.
+
+"How do I know, chicken? I've never been a midshipman myself. You can
+ask them if you like, when we go on board. For we are going on board,
+girls! Hurrah! We shall drive over to the Navy Yard, and there we shall
+get into boats, and then we shall row--I mean be rowed--out into the
+stream to the ship. It's a big frigate, the 'Achilles;' and Mrs.
+Delancy knows the captain; and she says it's a good chance, and she
+will not have us lose it. Hurrah, girls! this is prime."
+
+"What's a _frigate?_" was Dolly's next question.
+
+"Dolly Copley, you are ridiculous! you want to understand everything."
+
+"Don't you?"
+
+"No! I guess I don't. I am tired enough with trying to understand a
+little. I'll let alone what I can. You'll know what a frigate is when
+you have been on board of her."
+
+"But I think I should enjoy it a great deal more if I knew beforehand,"
+said Dolly.
+
+"You had best study a ship's dictionary. _I_ am going to study what I
+shall wear."
+
+"That you cannot tell yet," Christina remarked. "You do not know what
+sort of a day next Saturday, I mean, Saturday week, will be. It may be
+cold or"----
+
+"It mayn't be hot," said the other. "It will be cold, cold enough. It's
+November. You can wear your prettiest winter things, young ladies."
+
+A little while after, the group had broken up, and Dolly sought out one
+of the teachers and begged to know where she could find a "ship's
+dictionary."
+
+"A ship dictionary? My dear, there is no such thing. What do you want
+to find out?"
+
+"One of the girls said I could find out about ships in a ship's
+dictionary. We are going to see a man-of-war next week."
+
+"Oh, and you want to study up the subject? It is a Marine Dictionary
+you are in quest of. Come to the library."
+
+The library was always open to the girls for study purposes. The
+teacher was good-natured, and got out a big, brown square volume, and
+put it in Dolly's hand. Dolly had been followed by Christina; and now
+the two sat down together in a window recess on the floor, with the
+book before them. Dolly began at the beginning, and aloud.
+
+"'_Aback_.'"
+
+"That is nothing we want," remarked Christina.
+
+"Oh yes, I think it is. It is 'the situation of the sails when their
+surfaces are flatted against the masts by the force of the wind.' I do
+not understand, though. The sails are said to be 'taken aback.'-- Oh, I
+have heard mother say that. What could she mean? I have heard her say
+she was taken aback."
+
+"I have heard people say that too," said Christina; "often. I never
+knew what they meant. Something disagreeable, I think."
+
+"Well, you see," said Dolly, reading further, "it 'pushes the ship
+_astern_'--what's that? 'See _Backing_.' I suppose it means pushing it
+back. But I don't understand!" the little girl added with a sigh.
+
+"Oh, well! we don't care about all that," said Dolly's companion. "Go
+on to something else. Find out about the midshipmen."
+
+"What about the midshipmen?"
+
+"Nothing,--only I would like to know what they are. Madeleine said they
+were young officers; very young; not older than some of us."
+
+"Then why do you want to know about them?" said Dolly. "We have nothing
+to do with young officers. We don't know any of them."
+
+"But we might," suggested Christina. "We shall see them, if we go on
+board the ship."
+
+"I don't care about seeing them," said Dolly. "Young officers are young
+men, I suppose. I understand _them;_ what I don't know about, is the
+ship. Let us go on in this book, and see what we come to. '_Abaft_--the
+hinder part of a ship'"----
+
+"O Dolly!" cried Christina, "we have not time to go through everything
+in this way. You have not turned over one leaf yet  Do get on a little."
+
+"It is good it's a holiday," said Dolly, turning the leaf. "We have
+plenty of time. I like this book. '_Aboard_,--the inside of a ship.' So
+when we go into the ship, we go aboard. That's it."
+
+"Go on," urged Christina. "Here's '_Admiral_.'"
+
+"'An officer of first rank and command in the fleet.' There is a great
+deal here about the Admiral. I don't believe we shall see him. We'll
+look a little further."
+
+Dolly presently was caught by the word "_Anchor_," and lost herself in
+the study of the paragraphs following, and the plate accompanying;
+after which she declared that she understood how a ship could be held
+by its anchor. Urged to go on again, she turned over more leaves, but
+got lost in the study of "_boats;_" then of "_cannon;_" then of the
+"_captain_'s" office and duties; finally paused at the plate and
+description of a ship's deck.
+
+"It's just the deck of a ship!" said Christina impatiently. "You will
+see it when we go on board the 'Achilles.'"
+
+"I want to understand it."
+
+"You can't."
+
+"Are those guns?" said Dolly, pointing to a row of pieces delineated
+along the side of the deck.
+
+"Must be guns."
+
+"Well, I should like to go on board of a ship very much," said Dolly.
+"There are twelve guns on that side. If there are the same on this
+side, that would make twenty-four. What do they want so many for,
+Christina, on one ship?"
+
+"Why, to fight with, of course. To fire at other ships."
+
+"But what do they want of _so many?_ They would not want to fire twelve
+at once. I should think one would be enough."
+
+"Perhaps it wouldn't. Go on, Dolly, do! let us get to something else."
+
+It was difficult to get Dolly on. She was held fast again by the
+description of a naval engagement; then fell to studying the directions
+for the "_exercise_" of the guns; then was interested in some plates
+giving various orders of the line of battle. At last in due course they
+came to the word "_Midshipman_," which was read, or the article under
+it, by both girls.
+
+"'A naval cadet'"--repeated Christina.
+
+"And a cadet must be four years at sea before he can become a
+lieutenant; and two years midshipman besides. I should think they would
+be tired of it."
+
+"But if they are going to be sailors all their lives, it's no use for
+them to get tired of it," said Christina.
+
+"They come on shore sometimes, don't they?"
+
+"I suppose so. Oh yes, they have houses, I know, and wives and
+children. I shouldn't like to be the wife of a sailor!"
+
+"Somebody must, I suppose," said Dolly. "But I shouldn't like to have
+my home--my principal home, I mean--on the sea; if I was a man. _They_
+must like it, I suppose."
+
+Dolly went on reading.
+
+"The midshipmen have plenty to do, Christina. They have to learn how to
+do everything a common sailor does; all the work of the ship; and then
+they must learn astronomy, and geometry, and navigation and mechanics.
+Hydrostatics, too; oh dear, I don't know what that is. I can look it
+out, I suppose. The midshipmen must be very busy, Christina, and at
+hard work too."
+
+Christina's interest in the Marine Dictionary was exhausted. She went
+off; but Dolly pored over its pages still, endeavouring to take in
+details about vessels, and ropes, and sails, and winds, until her head
+was in a fog. She recurred to the book, however, on the next
+opportunity; and from time to time, as her lessons permitted, gave her
+time and attention to this seemingly very unnecessary subject. How much
+she really learned, is doubtful; yet as little things do touch and link
+themselves with great things, it may be that the old Marine Dictionary
+in Mrs. Delancy's library played a not insignificant part in the
+fortunes of Dolly Copley. As we shall see. She studied, till a ship
+became a romance to her; till rigging and spars and decks and guns were
+like the furniture of a new and strange life, which hardly belonged to
+the earth, being upon the sea; and the men who lived that life, and
+especially the men who ruled in it, grew to be invested with
+characteristics of power and skill and energy which gave them fabulous
+interest in Dolly's eyes.
+
+At home there had been a little scruple about letting Dolly join the
+party. She had had a cold, and was rather delicate at all times. The
+scruples, however, gave way before the child's earnest wish; and as
+Saturday of the particular week turned out mild and quiet, no hindrance
+was put in the way of the expedition.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+THE "ACHILLES."
+
+It was a very special delectation which the school were to enjoy
+to-day. The girls thought it always "fun," of course, to quit lessons
+and go to see anything; "even factories," as one of the girls expressed
+it, to Dolly's untold astonishment; for it seemed to her that to be
+allowed to look into the mystery of manufactures must be the next thing
+to taking part personally in a fairy tale. However, to-day it was not a
+question of manufactures, but of a finished and furnished big ship, and
+not only finished and furnished, but manned. "_This_ is something
+lively," Eudora opined. And she was quite right.
+
+The day was a quiet day in November, with just a spice of frost in it;
+the air itself was lively, quick and quickening. The party were driven
+to the Navy Yard in carriages, and there received very politely by the
+officers, some of whom knew Mrs. Delancy and lent themselves with much
+kindness to the undertaking. The girls were more or less excited with
+pleasure and anticipation; but to Dolly the Navy Yard seemed to be
+already touching the borders of that mysterious and fascinating sea
+life in which her fancy had lately been roaming. So when the girls were
+all carefully bestowed in stout little row boats to go out to the ship,
+Dolly's foot it was which stepped upon enchanted boards, and her eye
+that saw an enchanted world around her. What a field was this rippling
+water, crisped with the light breeze, and gurgling under the boat's
+smooth sweep ahead! How the oars rose and fell, all together, as if
+moved by only one hand. Was this a part of the order and discipline of
+which she had read lately, as belonging to this strange world?
+Probably; for now and then a command was issued to the oarsmen, curt
+and sharp; and obeyed, Dolly saw, although she did not know what the
+command meant. Yes, she was in an enchanted sphere; and she looked at
+the "Achilles" as they drew nearer, with profoundest admiration. Its
+great hulk grew large upon her view, with an absolute haze of romance
+and mystery hanging about its decks and rigging. It was a large ship,
+finely equipped, according to the fashion of naval armament which was
+prevalent in those days; she was a three-decker; and the port holes of
+her guns looked in threatening ranks along the sides of the vessel.
+Still and majestic she lay upon the quiet river; a very wonderful
+floating home indeed, and unlike all else she had ever known, to
+Dolly's apprehension. How she and the rest were ever to get on board
+was an insoluble problem to her, as to most of them; and the chair that
+was presently lowered along the ship's side to receive them, seemed a
+very precarious sort of means of transport. However, the getting aboard
+was safely accomplished; one by one they were hoisted up; and Dolly's
+feet stood upon the great main deck. And the first view was perfectly
+satisfactory, and even went far beyond her imaginings. She found
+herself standing under a mixed confusion of masts and spars and sails,
+marvellous to behold, which yet she also saw was no confusion at all,
+but complicated and systematic order. How much those midshipmen must
+have to learn, though, if they were to know the names and uses and
+handling of every spar and every rope and each sail among them! as
+Dolly knew they must. Her eye came back to the deck. What order there
+too; what neatness; why it was beautiful; and the uniforms here and
+there, and the sailors' hats and jackets, filled up the picture to her
+heart's desire. Dolly breathed a full breath of satisfaction.
+
+The Captain of the "Achilles" made his appearance, Captain Barbour. He
+was a thick-set, grizzly haired man, rather short, not handsome at all;
+and yet with an air of authority unmistakably clothing him like a
+garment of power and dignity. Plainly this man's word was law, and the
+girls stood in awe of him. He was known to Mrs. Delancy; and now she
+went on to present formally all her young people to him. The captain
+returned the courtesy by calling up and introducing to her and them
+some of his officers; and then they went to a review of the ship.
+
+It took a long while. Between Mrs. Delancy and Captain Barbour a lively
+conversation was carried on; Dolly thought he was explaining things to
+the lady that she did not understand; but though it might be the case
+now and then, I think the talk moved mainly upon less technical
+matters. Dolly could not get near enough to hear what it was, at any
+rate. The young lieutenants, too, were taken up with playing the host
+to the older young ladies of the party. If _they_ received instruction
+also by the way, Dolly could not tell; the laughing hardly looked like
+it. She and the other young ones at any rate followed humbly at the
+tail of everything, and just came up to a clear view of some detail
+when the others were moving away. There was nobody to help Dolly
+understand anything; nevertheless, she wandered in a fairy vision of
+wonderland. Into the cabins, down to the forecastle, down to the gun
+deck. What could equal the black strangeness of _that_ view! and what
+could it all mean? Dolly wished for her Uncle Edward, or some one, to
+answer a thousand questions. She had been reading about the guns, she
+looked curiously now at the realities, of which she had studied the
+pictures; recognised here a detail and there a detail, but remaining
+hugely ignorant of the whole and of the bearing of the several parts
+upon each other. Yet she did not know how time flew; she did not know
+that she was getting tired; from one strange thing to another she
+followed her leaders about; very much alone indeed, for even the other
+girls of her own age were staring at a different class of objects, and
+could hardly be said to see what she saw, much less were ready to ask
+what she wanted to ask. Dolly went round in a confused dream.
+
+At last the party had gone everywhere that such a party could go;
+Captain Barbour had spared them the lower gun deck. They came back to
+the captain's cabin, where a very pleasant lunch was served to the
+ladies. It was served, that is, to those who could get it, to those who
+were near enough and old enough to put in a claim by right of
+appearance. Dolly and one or two more who were undeniably little girls
+stood a bad chance, hanging about on the outskirts of the crowd, for
+the cabin would not take them all in; and hearing a distant sound of
+clinking glass and silver and words of refreshment. It was all they
+seemed likely to get; and when a kindly elderly officer had taken pity
+on the child and given Dolly a biscuit, she concluded to resign the
+rest of the unattainable luncheon and make the most of her other
+opportunities while she had them. Eating the biscuit, which she was
+very glad of, she wandered off by herself, along the deck; looking
+again carefully at all she saw; for her eyes were greedy of seeing.
+Sails,--what strange shapes; and how close rolled up some of them were!
+Ropes,--what a multitude; and cables. Coils of them on deck; and if she
+looked up, an endless tracery of lines seen against the blue sky. There
+was a sailor going up something like a rope ladder; going up and up;
+how could he? and how far could he go? Dolly almost grew dizzy gazing
+at him.
+
+"What are you looking after, little one?" a voice near her asked. An
+unceremonious address, certainly; frankly put; but the voice was not
+unkindly or uncivil, and Dolly was not sensitive on the point of
+personal dignity. She brought her eyes down for a moment far enough to
+see the shimmer of gold lace on a midshipman's cap, and answered,
+
+"I am looking at that man. He's going up and up, to the top of
+everything. I should think his head would turn."
+
+"Yours will, if you look after him with your head in that position."
+
+Dolly let her eyes come now to the speaker's face. One of the young
+midshipmen it was, standing near her, with his arms folded and leaning
+upon something which served as a support to them, and looking down at
+Dolly. For standing so and leaning over, he was still a good deal
+taller than she. Further, Dolly observed a pair of level brows, beneath
+them a pair of wise-looking, cognisance-taking blue eyes, an expression
+of steady calm, betokening either an even temperament or an habitual
+power of self-control; and just now in the eyes and the mouth there was
+the play almost of a smile somewhat merry, wholly kindly. It took
+Dolly's confidence entirely and at once.
+
+"You don't think you would like to be a sailor?" he went on.
+
+"Is it pleasant?" said Dolly, retorting the question earnestly and
+doubtfully.
+
+The smile broke a little more on the other's face. "How do you like the
+ship?" he asked.
+
+"I do not know," said Dolly, glancing along the deck. "I think it is a
+strange place to live."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"And I don't understand the use of it," Dolly went on with a really
+puzzled face.
+
+"The use of what?"
+
+"The use of the whole thing. I know what ships are good for, of course;
+other ships; but what is the use of such a ship as this?"
+
+"To take care of the other ships."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Have you been below? Did you see the gun decks?"
+
+"I was in a place where there were a great many guns--but I could not
+understand, and there was nobody to tell me things."
+
+"Would you like to go down there again?"
+
+"Oh yes!" said Dolly. "They will be a good while at lunch yet. Oh,
+thank you! I should like so much to go."
+
+The young midshipman took her hand; perhaps he had a little sister at
+home and the action was pleasant and familiar; it seemed to be both;
+and led her down the way that took them to the upper gun deck.
+
+"How comes it you are not taking lunch too?" he asked by the way.
+
+"Oh, there are too many of them," said Dolly contentedly. "I don't
+care. I had a biscuit."
+
+"You don't care for your lunch?"
+
+"Yes, I do, when I'm hungry; but now I would rather see things. I never
+saw a ship before."
+
+They arrived in the great, gloomy, black gun deck. The midshipman let
+go Dolly's hand, and she stood and looked along the avenue between the
+bristling black cannon.
+
+"Now, what is it that you don't understand?" he asked, watching her.
+
+"What are these guns here for?"
+
+"Don't you know _that?_ Guns are to fight with."
+
+"Yes, I know," said Dolly; "but how can you fight with them here in a
+row? and what would you fight with? I mean, who would you fight
+against?"
+
+"Some other ship, if Fate willed it so. Look here; this is the way of
+it."
+
+He took a letter from the breast of his coat, tore off a blank leaf;
+then resting it on the side of a gun carriage, he proceeded to make a
+sketch. Dolly's eyes followed his pencil point, spell-bound with
+interest. Under his quick and ready fingers grew, she could not tell
+how, the figure of a ship,--hull, masts, sails and rigging, deftly
+sketched in; till it seemed to Dolly she could almost see how the wind
+blew that was filling out the sails and floating off the streamer.
+
+"There," said the artist,--"that is our enemy."
+
+"Our enemy?" repeated Dolly.
+
+"Our supposed enemy. We will suppose she is an enemy."
+
+"But how could she be?"
+
+"We might be at war with England suppose, or with France. This might be
+an English ship of war coming to catch up every merchantman she could
+overhaul that carried American colours, and make a prize of her; don't
+you see?"
+
+"Do they do that?" said Dolly.
+
+"What? catch up merchantmen? of course they do; and the more of value
+is on board, the better they are pleased. We lose so much, and they
+gain so much. Now we want to stop this fellow's power of doing
+mischief; you understand."
+
+"What are those little black spots you are making along her sides."
+
+"The port holes of her guns."
+
+"Port holes?"
+
+"The openings where the mouths of her guns look out. See," said he,
+pointing to the one near which they were standing,--"that is a port
+hole."
+
+"That little window?"
+
+"It isn't a window; it is a port hole."
+
+"It is not a black spot."
+
+"Because you are inside, and looking out towards the light. Look at
+them when you are leaving the ship; they will look like black spots
+then, you will find."
+
+"Well, that's the enemy," said Dolly, drawing a short breath of
+excitement. "What is that ship you are making now?"
+
+"That's the 'Achilles'; brought to; with her main topsails laid aback,
+and her fore topsails full; ready for action."
+
+"I do not know what are topsails or fore topsails," said Dolly.
+
+The midshipman explained; to illustrate his explanation sketched
+lightly another figure of a vessel, showing more distinctly the
+principal sails.
+
+"And this is the 'Achilles,'" said Dolly, recurring to the principal
+design. "You have put her a great way off from the enemy, it seems to
+me."
+
+"No. Point blank range. Quite near enough."
+
+"Oh, what is 'point blank range'?" cried Dolly in despair. Her new
+friend smiled, but answered with good-humoured patience. Dolly listened
+and comprehended.
+
+"Then, if this were an enemy, and that the 'Achilles,' and within point
+blank range, you would load one of these guns and fire at her?"
+
+The midshipman shook his head. "We should load up all of them--all on
+that side."
+
+"And five them one after another?"
+
+"As fast as we could. We should give her a broadside. But we should
+probably give her one broadside after another."
+
+"Suppose the balls all hit her?"
+
+"Yes, you may suppose that. I should like to suppose it, if I were the
+officer in command."
+
+"What would they do to her?--to that enemy ship?"
+
+"If they all hit? Hinder her from doing any more mischief."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Break her masts, tear up her rigging, make a wreck of her generally.
+Perhaps sink her."
+
+"But suppose while you are fighting that she fights too?"
+
+"Extremely probable."
+
+"If a shot came in here--could it come in here?"
+
+"Certainly. Cannon balls will go almost anywhere."
+
+"If it came in here, what would it do?"
+
+"Kill three or four of the men at a gun, perhaps; tear away a bit of
+the ship's side; or perhaps disable the gun."
+
+"While you were firing at the enemy on this side, the guns of the other
+side, I suppose, would have nothing to do?"
+
+"They might be fighting another enemy on that side," said the
+midshipman, smiling.
+
+"I should think," said Dolly, looking down the long line of the gun
+deck, and trying to imagine the state of things described,--"I should
+think it would be most dreadful!"
+
+"I have no doubt you would think so."
+
+"Don't _you_ think so?"
+
+"I have never been in action yet."
+
+"Don't you hope you never will?"
+
+The young man laughed a little. "What would be the use of ships of war,
+if there were never any fighting? I should have nothing to do in the
+world."
+
+"You might do something else," said Dolly, gazing at the lines of black
+guns stretching along both sides of the deck, so near to each other, so
+black, so grim. "How many men does it take to manage each gun? You said
+_three or four_ might be killed."
+
+"According to the size of the gun. Twelve men for these guns; larger
+would take fifteen."
+
+Again Dolly meditated; in imagination peopled the solitary place with
+the active crowd of men which would be there if each gun had twelve
+gunners, filled the silence with the roar of combined discharges,
+thought of the dead and wounded; at last turned her eyes to the blue
+ones that were watching her.
+
+"I wonder if God likes it?" she said.
+
+"Likes what?" said the midshipman in wonder.
+
+"Such work. I don't see how He _can_."
+
+"How can you help such work? People cannot get along without fighting."
+
+He did not speak carelessly or mockingly or banteringly; rather with a
+gentle, somewhat deliberate utterance. Yet Dolly was persuaded there
+was no unmanly softness in him; she never doubted but that he would be
+ready to do his part in that dreadful work, if it must be done.
+Moreover, he was paying to this odd little girl a delicate sort of
+respect and treating her with great consideration. Her confidence, as I
+said, had been entirely given to him before; and now some gratitude
+began to mingle with it, along with great freedom to speak her mind.
+
+"I don't think God can like it," she repeated.
+
+"What would you do, then?" he also repeated, smiling. "Let wicked
+people have their own way?"
+
+"No."
+
+"If they are not to have their own way, you must stop them."
+
+"I think this is a dreadful way of stopping them."
+
+"It's a bad job for the side that goes under," the young officer
+admitted.
+
+"I don't believe God likes it," Dolly concluded for the third time,
+with great conviction.
+
+"Is that your rule for everything?"
+
+"Yes. Isn't it your rule?"
+
+"I have to obey orders," he answered, watching her.
+
+"Don't you obey _His_ orders?" said Dolly wistfully.
+
+"I do not know what they are."
+
+"Oh, but they are in the Bible. You can find them in the Bible."
+
+"Does it say anything about fighting?"
+
+Dolly tried to think, and got confused. Certainly it did say a good
+deal about fighting, but in various ways, it seemed to her. She did not
+know how to answer. She changed the subject.
+
+"How do you get the shot, the balls, I mean, into these guns? I don't
+see how you get at them. The mouths are out of the windows. Port holes,
+I mean."
+
+For the upper gun deck had been put to a certain extent in order of
+action, and the guns were run out.
+
+"You are of an inquiring disposition," said the midshipman gravely.
+
+"Am I?"
+
+"I think you are."
+
+"But I should like to know"--pursued Dolly, looking at the muzzle of
+the gun by which they were standing.
+
+"The guns would be run in to be loaded."
+
+Dolly looked at the heavy piece of metal, and at him, but did not
+repeat her question.
+
+"Now you want to know how," he said, smiling. "If I were captain, I
+would have the men here and show you. The gun is run in by means of
+this tackle, see!--and when it is charged, it is bowsed out again."
+
+Seeing Dolly's wise grave eyes bent upon the subject, he went on to
+amuse her with a full detail of the exercise of the gun; from "casting
+loose," to the finishing "secure your guns;" explaining the manner of
+handling and loading, and the use of the principal tackle concerned.
+Dolly listened, intent, fascinated, enchained; and I think the young
+man was a little fascinated too, though his attentions were given to so
+very young a lady. Dolly's brown eyes were so utterly pure and grave
+and unconscious; the brain at work behind them was so evidently clear
+and busy and competent; the pleasure she showed was so
+unschoolgirl-like, and he thought so unchildlike, and at the same time
+so very far from being young lady-like. What she was like, he did not
+know; she was an odd little apparition there in the gun-deck of the
+"Achilles," leaning with her elbows upon a gun carriage, and surveyeing
+with her soft eyes the various paraphernalia of conflict and carnage
+around her. Contrast could hardly be stronger.
+
+"Suppose," said Dolly at last, "a shot should make a hole in the side
+of the ship, and let in the water?"
+
+"Well? Suppose it," he answered.
+
+"Does that ever happen?"
+
+"Quite often. Why not?"
+
+"What would you do then?"
+
+"Pump out the water as fast as it came in,--if we could."
+
+"Suppose you couldn't?"
+
+"Then we should go down."
+
+"And all in the ship?"
+
+"All who could not get out of it."
+
+"How could any get out of it?"
+
+"In the boats."
+
+"Oh!--I forgot the boats. Would they hold everybody?"
+
+"Probably not. The other ships' boats would come to help."
+
+"The officers would go first, I suppose?"
+
+"Last. The highest officer of all would be the last man on board."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"He must do his duty. If he cannot save his ship, at least he must save
+his men;--all he can. He is there to do his duty."
+
+"I think it would be better not to be there at all," said Dolly very
+gravely.
+
+"Who would take care of you then, if an enemy's fleet were coming to
+attack Philadelphia?" said the young officer.
+
+"I would go home," said Dolly. "I don't know what would become of
+Philadelphia. But I do not think God can like it."
+
+"Shall we go above where it is more cheerful? or have you seen it all?"
+
+Dolly gave him her hand again and let him help her till they got on
+deck. There they went roaming towards the fore part of the vessel,
+looking at everything by the way; Dolly asking the names and the
+meaning of things, and receiving explanations, especially regarding the
+sails and rigging and steering of the ship. She was even shown where
+the sailors made their home in the forecastle. As they were returning
+aft, Dolly stopped by a coil of rope on deck and began pulling at an
+end of it. Her companion inquired what she wanted?
+
+"I would like a little piece," said Dolly; "if I could get it."
+
+"A piece of rope?"
+
+"Yes;--just a little bit; but it is very strong; it won't break."
+
+She was tugging at a loose strand.
+
+"How large a bit do you want?"
+
+"Oh, just a little piece," said Dolly. "I wanted just a little piece to
+keep--but it's no matter. I wanted to keep it."
+
+"A keepsake?" said the young man. "To remember us by? They are breaking
+up,"--he added immediately, casting his glance aft, where a stir and a
+gathering and a movement on deck in front of the captain's cabin could
+now be seen, and the sound of voices came fresh along the breeze. "They
+are going--there is no time now. I will send you a piece, if you will
+tell me where I can send it. Where do you live?"
+
+"Oh, will you? Oh, thank you!" said Dolly, and her face lifted
+confidingly to the young officer grew sunny with pleasure. "I live at
+Mrs. Delancy's school;--but no, I don't! I don't live there. My home is
+at Uncle Edward's--Mr. Edward Eberstein--in Walnut Street."
+
+"What number?" said the midshipman, using his pencil again on the much
+scribbled piece of paper; and Dolly told him.
+
+"And whom shall I send the--the piece of rope, to?"
+
+"Oh, yes!--Dolly Copley. That is my name. Good bye, I must go."
+
+"Dolly Copley. You shall have it," said he, giving the little hand she
+held out to him a right sailorly grasp. And Dolly ran away. In the
+bustle and anxiety of getting lowered into the little boat again she
+forgot him and everything else; however, so soon as she was safely
+seated and just as the men were ordered to "give way," she looked up at
+the great ship they were leaving; and there, just above her, leaning on
+the guards and looking over and down at her, she saw her midshipman
+friend. Dolly saw nothing else till his face was too small in the
+distance to be any longer recognised.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+THE PIECE OF ROPE.
+
+It was Saturday and holiday, and Dolly went home to her aunt's. There
+her aunt and uncle, as was natural, expected a long story of the
+morning's experience. And Dolly one would think might have given it;
+matter for the detail was not wanting; yet she seemed to have little to
+tell. On the other hand, she had a great deal to ask. She wanted to
+know why people could not do all their fighting on land; why ships of
+war were necessary; Mr. Eberstein tried to explain that there might be
+great and needful advantages attendant upon the use of them. Then Dolly
+begged for instances. Had we, Americans, ever fought at sea? Mr.
+Eberstein answered that, and gave her details of facts, while Mrs.
+Eberstein sat by silent and watched Dolly's serious, meditative face.
+
+"I should think," said Dolly, "that when there is a fight, a ship of
+war would be a very dreadful place."
+
+"There is no doubt of that, my little girl," said Mr. Eberstein. "Take
+the noise, and the smoke, the packed condition of one of those gun
+decks, and the every now and then coming in of a round shot, crashing
+through planks and timbers, splintering what comes in its way, and
+stretching half a dozen men at once, more or less, on the floor in dead
+and wounded,--I think it must be as good a likeness of the infernal
+regions as earth can give--in one way at least."
+
+"In what way?" Dolly asked immediately.
+
+"Confusion of pain and horror. Not wickedness."
+
+"Uncle Ned, do you think God can like it?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then isn't it wicked?"
+
+"No, little one; not necessarily. No sort of pain or suffering can be
+pleasing to God; we know it is not; yet sin has made it necessary, and
+He often sends it."
+
+"Don't He always send it?"
+
+"Why no. Some sorts people bring on themselves by their own folly and
+perverseness; and some sorts people work on others by their own wicked
+self-will. God does not cause that, though He will overrule it to do
+what He wants done."
+
+"Uncle Ned, do you think we shall ever have to use our ships of war
+again?"
+
+"We are using them all the time. We send them to this place and that
+place to protect our own people, and their merchant vessels and their
+commerce, from interference and injury."
+
+"No, but I mean, in fighting. Do you think we shall ever have to send
+them to fight again?"
+
+"Probably."
+
+"To fight whom?"
+
+"That I don't know."
+
+"Then why do you say 'probably'?"
+
+"Because human nature remains what it was, and will no doubt do the
+same work in the future that it has done from the beginning."
+
+"Why is fighting part of that work, Uncle Ned?"
+
+"Ah, why! Greed, which wants what is the right of others; pride, which
+resents even a fancied interference with its own; anger, which cries
+for revenge; these are the reasons."
+
+Dolly looked very deeply serious.
+
+"Why do you care so much about it, Dolly?" her aunt asked at length,
+after a meditative pause of several minutes.
+
+"I would be sorry to have the 'Achilles' go into battle," said Dolly;
+and a perceptible slight shudder passed over her shoulders.
+
+"Is the 'Achilles' so much to you, just because you have seen her?"
+
+"No--" said Dolly thoughtfully; "it isn't the _ship;_ it's the people."
+
+"Oh!--But what do you know of the people?"
+
+"I saw a good many of them, Aunt Harry."
+
+Politic Dolly! She had really seen only one. Yet she had no idea of
+being politic; and why she did not say whom she had seen, and what
+reason she had for being interested in him, I cannot tell you.
+
+From that time Dolly's reading took a new turn. She sought out in the
+bookcases everything that related to sailors and ships, and especially
+naval warfare, and simply devoured it. The little Life of Lord Nelson,
+by Southey, in two small calf-bound volumes, became her darling book.
+Better than any novel, for it was _true_, and equal to any novel for
+its varied, picturesque, passionate, stirring life story. Dolly read
+it, till she could have given you at any time an accurate and detailed
+account of any one of Nelson's great battles; and more than that, she
+studied the geography of the lands and waters thereby concerned, and
+where possible the topography also. I suppose the "Achilles" stood for
+a model of all the ships in which successively the great commander
+hoisted his flag; and if the hero himself did not take the form and
+features of a certain American midshipman, it was probably because
+there was a likeness of the subject of the Memoir opposite to the
+title-page; and the rather plain, rather melancholy, rather feeble
+traits of the English naval captain, could by no effort of imagination
+be confounded with the quiet strength and gentle manliness which Dolly
+had found in the straight brows and keen blue eyes and kindly smile of
+her midshipman friend. That would not do. Nelson was not like him, nor
+he like Nelson; but Dolly had little doubt but he would do as much, if
+he had occasion. In that faith she read on; and made every action
+lively with the vision of those keen-sighted blue eyes and firm sweet
+mouth in the midst of the smoke of battle and the confusion of orders
+given and received. How often the Life of Nelson was read, I dare not
+say; nor with what renewed eagerness the Marine Dictionary and its
+plates of ships and cannon were studied and searched. From that,
+Dolly's attention was extended to other books which told of the sea and
+of life upon it, even though the life were not war-like. Captain Cook's
+voyages came in for a large amount of favour; and Cooper's "Afloat and
+Ashore," which happened about this time to fall into Dolly's hands, was
+devoured with a hunger which grew on what it fed. Nobody knew; she had
+ceased to talk on naval subjects; and it was so common a thing for
+Dolly to be swallowed up in some book or other whenever she was at
+home, that Mrs. Eberstein's curiosity was not excited.
+
+Meanwhile school days and school work went on, and week succeeded week,
+and everybody but Dolly had forgotten all about the "Achilles;" when
+one day a small package was brought to the door and handed in "For Miss
+Dolly Copley." It was a Saturday afternoon. Dolly and her aunt were
+sitting comfortably together in Mrs. Eberstein's workroom upstairs, and
+Mr. Eberstein was there too at his secretary.
+
+"For me?" said Dolly, when the servant brought the package in. "It's a
+box! Aunt Harry, what can it be?"
+
+"Open and see, Dolly."
+
+Which Dolly did with an odd mixture of haste and deliberation which
+amused Mrs. Eberstein. She tore off nothing, and she cut nothing;
+patiently knots were untied and papers unfolded, though Dolly's fingers
+trembled with excitement. Papers taken off showed a rather small
+pasteboard box; and the box being opened revealed coil upon coil,
+nicely wound up, of a beautifully wrought chain. It might be a watch
+chain; but Dolly possessed no watch.
+
+"What is it, Aunt Harry?" she said in wondering pleasure as the coils
+of the pretty woven work fell over her hand.
+
+"It looks like a watch chain, Dolly. What is it made of?"
+
+Mrs. Eberstein inspected the work closely and could not determine.
+
+"But who could send me a watch chain?" said Dolly.
+
+"Somebody; for here is your name very plainly on the cover and on the
+paper."
+
+"The boy is waiting for an answer, miss."
+
+"Answer? To what? I don't know whom to answer," said Dolly.
+
+"There's a note, miss."
+
+"A note? where?--Oh, here _is_ a note, Aunt Harry, in the bottom of the
+box. I did not see it."
+
+"From whom, Dolly?"
+
+Dolly did not answer. She had unfolded the note, and now her whole face
+was wrinkling up with pleasure or fun; she did not hear or heed her
+aunt's question. Mrs. Eberstein marked how her colour rose and her
+smile grew sparkling; and she watched with not a little curiosity and
+some impatience till Dolly should speak. The little girl looked up at
+last with a face all dimples.
+
+"O Aunt Harry! it's my piece of rope."
+
+"Your _piece of rope_, my dear?"
+
+"Yes; I wanted a piece of rope; and this is it."
+
+"That is not a piece of rope."
+
+"Yes, it is; it is made of it. I could not think what it was made of;
+and now I see. Isn't it beautifully made? He has picked a piece of rope
+to pieces, and woven this chain of the threads; isn't it beautiful? And
+how kind! How kind he is."
+
+"_Who_, Dolly? Who has done it?"
+
+"Oh, the midshipman, Aunt Harry."
+
+"_The_ midshipman. What one? You didn't say anything about a
+midshipman."
+
+"I saw him, though, and he said he would send me a piece of rope. I
+wanted a piece, Aunt Harry, to remember the ship by; and I could not
+break a bit off, though I tried; then he saw me trying, and it was just
+time to go, and he said he would get it and send it to me. I thought he
+had forgotten all about it; but here it is! I am so glad."
+
+"My dear, do you call that a piece of rope?"
+
+"Why, yes, Aunt Harry; it is woven out of a piece of rope. He has
+picked the rope apart and made this chain of the threads. I think he is
+very clever."
+
+"_Who_, my dear? Who has done it, Dolly?"
+
+"The midshipman, Aunt Harry."
+
+"What midshipman?"
+
+"On the 'Achilles.' I saw him that day."
+
+"Did you see only one midshipman?"
+
+"No; I suppose I saw a good many. I didn't notice any but this one."
+
+"And he noticed you, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes, a little"--said Dolly.
+
+"Did he notice nobody beside you?"
+
+"I don't know, Aunt Harry. Not that time, for I was alone."
+
+"Alone! Where were all the rest, and Mrs. Delancy?"
+
+"Eating lunch in the captain's cabin."
+
+"Did you have no lunch?"
+
+"I had a biscuit one of the officers gave me."
+
+"And have you got a note there from the midshipman?"
+
+"Yes, Aunt Harry."
+
+"What does he say?"
+
+Dolly unfolded the note again and looked at it with great
+consideration; then handed it to Mrs. Eberstein. Mrs. Eberstein read
+aloud.
+
+
+"Ship '_Achilles_,'
+
+"_Dec_. 5, 18--
+
+"Will Miss Dolly Copley please send a word to say that she has received
+her piece of cable safe? I thought she would like it best perhaps in a
+manufactured form; and I hope she will keep it to remember the
+'Achilles' by, and also
+
+"A. CROWNINSHIELD."
+
+
+"What's all that?" demanded Mr. Eberstein now from his writing-desk.
+Mrs. Eberstein bit her lips as she answered,
+
+"Billet-doux."
+
+"Aunt Harry," said Dolly now doubtfully, "must I write an answer?"
+
+"Edward," said Mrs. Eberstein, "shall I let this child write a note to
+a midshipman on board the 'Achilles'? What do you think? Come and
+counsel me."
+
+Mr. Eberstein left his writing, informed himself of the circumstances,
+read "A. Crowninshield's" note, and gave his decision.
+
+"The 'Achilles'? Oh yes, I know Captain Barbour very well. It's all
+right, I guess. I think Dolly had better write an answer, certainly."
+
+So Dolly fetched her writing materials. Her aunt looked for some
+appeals for advice now on her part; but Dolly made none. She bent over
+her paper with an earnest face, a little flushed; but it seemed she was
+in no uncertainty what to say or how to say it. She did not offer to
+show her finished note to Mrs. Eberstein; I think it did not occur to
+her; but in the intensity of her concentration Dolly only thought of
+the person she was writing to and the occasion which made her write.
+Certainly she would have had no objection that anybody should see what
+she wrote. The simple words ran as follows:
+
+
+"MR. CROWNINSHIELD,
+
+"I have got the chain, and I think it is beautiful, and I am very much
+obliged to you. I mean to keep it and wear it as long as I live. You
+are very kind.
+
+"DOLLY COPLEY."
+
+
+The note was closed and sent off; and with that Dolly dismissed the
+subject, so far at least as words were concerned; but Mrs. Eberstein
+watched her still for some time handling and examining the chain,
+passing it through her fingers, and regarding it with a serious face,
+and yet an expression in the eyes and on the lips that was almost
+equivalent to a smile.
+
+"What are you going to do with it, Dolly?" Mrs. Eberstein asked at
+length, wishing to get into the child's thoughts.
+
+"I'll keep it, Aunt Harry. And when I have anything to wear it with, I
+will wear it. When I am old enough, I mean."
+
+"What did you do to that young fellow, to make him show you such an
+attention?"
+
+"Do to him? I didn't do anything to him, Aunt Harry!"
+
+"It was very kind of him, wasn't it?"
+
+"_Very_ kind. I guess he is kind," said Dolly.
+
+"Maybe we shall see him again one of these days, and have a chance to
+thank him. The midshipmen get leave to come on shore now and then."
+
+But no such chance offered. The "Achilles" sailed out of those waters,
+and her place in the river was empty.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+END OF SCHOOL TERM.
+
+Dolly's school life is not further of importance in this history; or no
+further than may serve to fill out the picture already given of
+herself. A few smooth and uneventful years followed that first coming
+to Philadelphia; not therefore unfruitful because uneventful; perhaps
+the very contrary. The little girl made her way among her fellow pupils
+and the teachers, the masters and mistresses, the studies and drills
+which busied them all, with a kind of sweet facility; such as is born
+everywhere, I suppose, of good will. Whoever got into scrapes, it was
+never Dolly Copley; whoever was chidden for imperfect recitations, such
+rebukes never fell on her; whoever might be suspected of mischief, such
+suspicion could not rest for a moment on the fair, frank little face
+and those grave brown eyes. The most unpopular mistress had a friend in
+Dolly; the most refractory school-girl owned to a certain influence
+which went forth from her; the most uncomfortable of her companions
+found soothing in her presence. People who are happy themselves can
+drop a good deal of oil on the creaking machinery around them, and love
+is the only manufactory where the oil is made.
+
+With all this smooth going, it may be supposed that Dolly's progress in
+knowledge and accomplishments would be at least satisfactory; and it
+was more than that. She prospered in all she undertook. The teacher of
+mathematics said she had a good head for calculation; the French
+mistress declared nature had given her a good ear and accent; the
+dancing master found her agile and graceful as a young roe; the drawing
+master went beyond all these and averred that Miss Copley would
+distinguish him and herself. "She has an excellent manner of handling,
+madame," he said,--"and she has an eye for colour, and she will have a
+style that will be distinguished." Moreover, Dolly's voice was sweet
+and touching, and promised to be very effective.
+
+So things went on at school; and at home each day bound faster the
+loving ties which united her with her kind protectors and relations.
+Every week grew and deepened the pleasure of the intercourse they held
+together. Those were happy years for all parties. Dolly had become
+rather more talkative, without being less of a bookworm. Vacations were
+sometimes spent with her mother and father, though not always, as the
+latter were sometimes travelling. Dolly missed nothing; Mrs.
+Eberstein's house had come to be a second home.
+
+All this while the "Achilles" had never been heard of again in the
+neighbourhood of Philadelphia. Neither, though Dolly I am bound to say
+searched faithfully all the lists of ship's officers which were
+reported in any American ports, did she ever so much as see the name of
+A. Crowninshield. She always looked for it, wherever a chance of
+finding it might be; she never found it.
+
+Such was the course of things, until Dolly had reached her seventeenth
+year and was half through it. Then, in the spring, long before school
+term ended, came a sudden summons for her. Mr. Copley had received the
+appointment of a consulship in London; he and his family were about to
+transfer themselves immediately to this new sphere of activity, and
+Dolly of course must go along. Her books were hastily fetched from
+school, her clothes packed up; and Dolly and her kind friends in Walnut
+Street sat together the last evening in a very subdued frame of mind.
+
+"I don't see what your father wanted of a consulship, or anything else
+that would take him out of his country!" Mr. Eberstein uttered his
+rather grumbling complaint. "He has enough to satisfy a man without
+that."
+
+"But what papa likes is precisely something to take him out of the
+country. He likes change"--said Dolly sorrowfully.
+
+"He won't have much change as American Consul in London," Mr. Eberstein
+returned. "Business will pin him pretty close."
+
+"I suppose it will be a change at first," said Dolly; "and then, when
+he gets tired of it, he will give it up, and take something else."
+
+"And you, little Dolly, you are accordingly to be shoved out into the
+great, great world, long before you are ready for it."
+
+"Is the world any bigger over there than it is on this side?" said
+Dolly, with a gleam of fun.
+
+"Well, yes," said Mr. Eberstein. "Most people think so. And London _is_
+a good deal bigger than Philadelphia."
+
+"The world is very much alike all over," remarked Mrs. Eberstein; "in
+one place a little more fascinating and dangerous, in another a little
+less."
+
+"Will it be more or less, over there, for me, Aunt Harry?"
+
+"It would be 'more' for you anywhere, Dolly, soon. Why you are between
+sixteen and seventeen; almost a woman!" Mrs. Eberstein said with a sigh.
+
+"No, not yet, Aunt Harry. I'll be a girl yet awhile. I can be that in
+England, can't I, as well as here?"
+
+"Better," said Mr. Eberstein.
+
+"But the world, nevertheless, _is_ a little bigger out there, Ned," his
+wife added.
+
+"In what way, Aunt Harry? And what do you mean by the 'world' anyhow?"
+
+"I mean what the Lord was speaking of, when He said to His disciples,
+'If ye were of the world, the world would love his own; but because ye
+are not of the world, but I have chosen you out of the world, therefore
+the world hateth you.'"
+
+"That means, bad people?"
+
+"Some of them are by no means bad people. Some of them are delightful
+people."
+
+"Then I do not quite understand, Aunt Harry. I thought it meant not
+only _bad_ people, but gay people; pleasure lovers."
+
+"Aren't you a lover of pleasure, Dolly?"
+
+"Oh yes. But, Aunt Harry," Dolly said seriously, "I am _not_ a 'lover
+of pleasure more than a lover of God.'"
+
+"No, thanks to His goodness! However, Dolly, people may be just as
+worldly without seeking pleasures at all. It isn't that."
+
+"What is it, then?"
+
+"I don't know how to put it. Ned, can you?"
+
+"Why, Hal," said Mr. Eberstein pondering, "it comes to about this, I
+reckon. There are just two kingdoms in the world, upon earth I mean."
+
+"Yes. Well? I know there are two kingdoms, and no neutral ground. But
+what is the dividing line? That is what we want to know."
+
+"If there is no neutral ground, it follows that the border line of one
+kingdom is the border line of the other. To go out of one, is to go
+into the other."
+
+"Well? Yes. That's plain."
+
+"Then it is simple enough. What belongs to Christ, or what is done for
+Him or in His service, belongs to His kingdom. Of course, what is _not_
+Christ's, nor is done for Him, nor in His service, belongs to the
+world."
+
+There was a silence here of some duration; and then Dolly exclaimed, "I
+see it. I shall know now."
+
+"What, Dolly?"
+
+"How to do, Aunt Harry."
+
+"How to do what?"
+
+"Everything. I was thinking particularly just then"--Dolly hesitated.
+
+"Yes, of what?"
+
+"Of dressing myself."
+
+"Dressing yourself, you chicken?"
+
+"Yes, Aunt Harry. I see it. If I do not dress for Christ, I do it for
+the world."
+
+"Don't go into another extreme now, Dolly."
+
+"No, Aunt Harry. I cannot be wrong, can I, if I do it for Christ?"
+
+"I wonder how many girls of sixteen in the country have such a thought?
+And I wonder, how long will you be able to keep it, Dolly?"
+
+"Why not, Aunt Harry?"
+
+"O child! because you have got to meet the world."
+
+"What will the world do to me?" Dolly asked, half laughing in her
+simple ignorance.
+
+"When I think what it will do to you, Dolly, I am ready to break my
+heart. It will tempt you, child. It will tempt you with beauty, and
+with pleasant things; pleasant things that look so harmless! and it
+will seek to persuade you with sweet voices and with voices of
+authority; and it will show you everybody going one way, and that not
+your way."
+
+"But I will follow Christ, Aunt Hal."
+
+"Then you will have to bear reproach."
+
+"I would rather bear the world's reproach, than His."
+
+"If you don't get over-persuaded, child, or deafened with the voices!"
+
+"She will have to do like the little girl in the fairy tale," said Mr.
+Eberstein; "stuff cotton in her ears. The little girl in the fairy tale
+was going up a hill to get something at the top--what _was_ she going
+for, that was at the top of the hill?"
+
+"I know!" cried Dolly. "I remember. She was going for three things. The
+Singing bird and the Golden water, and--I forget what the third thing
+was."
+
+"Well, you see what that means," Mr. Eberstein went on. "She was going
+up the hill for the Golden water at the top; and there were ten
+thousand voices in her ears tempting her to look round; and if she
+looked, she would be turned to stone. The road was lined with stones,
+which had once been pilgrims. You see, Dolly? Her only way was to stop
+her ears."
+
+"I see, Uncle Ned."
+
+"What shall Dolly stop her ears with?" asked Mrs. Eberstein.
+
+"These words will do. 'Whether ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do,
+do all to the glory of God.'"
+
+There was little more talking, for as the evening drew on, the
+heaviness of the parting weighed too hard upon all hearts. The next day
+Dolly made the journey to Boston, and from there to her parents' house;
+and her childhood's days were over.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+PLAYTHINGS.
+
+Dolly did not know that her childhood was over. Every pulse of her
+happy little heart said the contrary, when she found herself again
+among her old haunts and was going the rounds of them, the morning
+after her return home. She came in at last to her mother, flushed and
+warm.
+
+"Mother, what are we going away for?" she began.
+
+"Your father knows. I don't. Men never know when they are well off."
+
+"Do women?"
+
+"I used to think so."
+
+"Is it as pleasant in England as it is here?"
+
+"Depends on where you are placed, I suppose, and _how_ you are placed.
+How can I tell? I have never been in England."
+
+"Mother, we have got the prettiest little calf in the barn that you
+ever saw."
+
+"In the barn! A queer place for a calf to be, it seems to me."
+
+"Yes, because they want to keep it from the cow. Johnson is going to
+rear it, he says. I am so glad it is not to be killed! It is spotted,
+mother; all red and white; and so prettily spotted!"
+
+An inarticulate sound from Mrs. Copley, which might mean anything.
+
+"And, mother, I have been getting the eggs. And Johnson has a hen
+setting. We shall have chickens pretty soon."
+
+"Dolly Copley, how old are you?"
+
+"Sixteen last Christmas, mother."
+
+"And seventeen next Christmas."
+
+"Yes, ma'am, but next Christmas is not come yet."
+
+"Seems to me, it is near enough for you to be something besides a
+child."
+
+"What's the harm, mother?"
+
+"Harm?" said Mrs. Copley with a sharp accent; "why, when one has a
+woman's work to do, one had better be a woman to do it. How is a child
+to fill a woman's place?"
+
+"I have only a child's place to fill, just now," said Dolly merrily. "I
+have no woman's work to do, mother."
+
+"Yes, you have. You have got to go into society, and play your part in
+society, and be married by and by; and _then_ you'll know that a
+woman's part isn't so easy to play."
+
+Dolly looked grave.
+
+"But we are going to England, mother; where we know nobody. I don't see
+how we are to go into much society."
+
+"Do you suppose," said Mrs. Copley very irately, "that with your
+father's position his wife and daughter will not be visited and receive
+invitations? That is the one thing that reconciles me to going. We
+shall have a very different sort of society from what we have here. Why
+you will go to court, Dolly; you will be presented; and of course you
+will see nothing but people of the very best circles."
+
+"I don't care about going to court."
+
+"Why not? You are a goose; you know nothing about it. Why don't you
+want to go to court? Your father's daughter may, as well as some other
+people's. Why don't you care about it?"
+
+"It would be a great deal of fuss; and no use."
+
+"No use! Yes, it would; just the use I am telling you. It would
+introduce you to the best society."
+
+"But I am not going to live in England all my life, mother."
+
+"How do you know?" very sharply. "How do you know where you are going
+to live?"
+
+"Why, father won't stay there always, will he?"
+
+"I am sure I don't know what your father will take into his head. I may
+be called to end my days in Japan. But you--Look here; has your aunt
+made you as old-fashioned as she is herself?"
+
+"How, mother?"
+
+"I am sure I can't tell how! There are ever so many ways. There's the
+benevolent sort, and there's the devout sort, and there's the
+puritanical sort. Has she put it into your head that it is good to be a
+hermit and separate yourself from the rest of the world?"
+
+Dolly laughed and denied that charge.
+
+"She's a very good woman, I suppose; but she is ridiculous," Mrs.
+Copley went on. "Don't be ridiculous, whatever you are. You can't do
+any good to anybody by being ridiculous."
+
+"But people may call things ridiculous, that are not ridiculous,
+mother."
+
+"Don't let them _call_ you ridiculous, then," said Mrs. Copley,
+chopping her words in the way people do when impatience has the
+management of them. "You had better not. The world is pretty apt to be
+right."
+
+Dolly let the subject go, and let it go from her mind too; giving
+herself to the delights of her chickens, and the calf, and the nests of
+eggs in the hay mow. More than half the time she was dancing about out
+of doors; as gay as the daffodils that were just opening, as delicate
+as the Van Thol tulips that were taking on slender streaks and threads
+of carmine in their half transparent white petals, as sweet as the
+white hyacinth that was blooming in Mrs. Copley's window. Within the
+house Dolly displayed another character, and soon became indispensable
+to her mother. In all consultations of business, in emergencies of
+packing, in perplexities of arrangements, Dolly was ready with a sweet,
+clear common sense, loving hands of skill, and an imperturbable
+cheerfulness and patience. It was only a few weeks that the confusion
+lasted; during those weeks Mrs. Copley came to know what sort of a
+daughter she had. And even Mr. Copley began to divine it.
+
+Mr. Copley has been no more than mentioned. He was a comely,
+intelligent, active, energetic man; a very good specimen of a typical
+Yankee who has enjoyed the advantages of education and society. He had
+plenty of common sense, acute business faculties, and genial manners;
+and so was generally a popular man among his compeers. His inherited
+family property made him more than independent; so his business
+dealings were entered into rather for amusement and to satisfy the
+inborn Yankee craving to be doing something, than for need or for gain.
+Mr. Copley laid no special value on money, beyond what went to make him
+comfortable. But he lacked any feeling for art, which might have made
+him a collector and connoisseur; he had no love for nature, which might
+have expended itself in grounds and gardens; he cared little for
+knowledge, except such as he could forthwith use. What was left to him
+but business? for he was not of those softly natures which sit down at
+home in the midst of their families and are content. However, Mr.
+Copley could value his home belongings, and had an eye to discern
+things.
+
+He was watching Dolly, one day just before their departure, as she was
+busying herself with a bunch of violets; putting some of them in a
+glass, sticking some of them in her mother's hair, finally holding the
+bunch under her father's nose.
+
+"Dolly," said her father, "I declare I don't know whether you are most
+of a child or a woman!"
+
+"I suppose I can be both, father; can't I?"
+
+"I don't know about that."
+
+"So I tell her," said Mrs. Copley. "It's all very well as long as she
+is here; but I tell her she has got to give up being a child and
+playing with the chickens."
+
+"Why must I?" said Dolly.
+
+"You will find other playthings on the other side," said her father,
+fondly putting his arm round her and drawing her up to him.
+
+"Will they be as good as chickens? What will they be?"
+
+"Yes, there, 'what will they be,' she asks! I do believe that Dolly has
+no idea," Mrs. Copley remarked.
+
+"She will find out soon enough," said Mr. Copley contentedly.
+
+"What will they be, father?" Dolly repeated, making for the present a
+plaything of her father's head; for both her soft arms were around it,
+and she was touching first one side and then the other side with her
+own cheeks. Mr. Copley seemed to enjoy the play, for he gave himself up
+to it luxuriously and made no answer.
+
+"Dolly has been long enough in Philadelphia," Mrs. Copley went on. "It
+is time she was away."
+
+"So I think."
+
+"Father," said Dolly now, "have I done with going to school?"
+
+There ensued a debate upon this question; Dolly herself taking the
+negative and her mother the affirmative side. She wanted her daughter
+at home, she said.
+
+"But not till I am fit to be at home, mother?"
+
+"Fit? Why are you not fit?" said Mrs. Copley. "You know as much as I
+did when I was married; and I should think that would be enough. I do
+not see what girls want with so much crammed into their heads,
+nowadays! It does them no good, and it does nobody else any good."
+
+"What do you think you want, Dolly, more than you have already?" her
+father asked.
+
+"Why, father, I do not know _anything_. I have only begun things."
+
+"Humph! Not know anything. I suppose you can read and write and cipher?"
+
+"And you can play and sing," added Mrs. Copley.
+
+"Very little, mother."
+
+"And your drawings are beautiful."
+
+"Oh, no, mother! That is one especial thing that I want to do better; a
+great deal better."
+
+"I think they are good enough. And you have music enough. What's the
+use? When you are married you will give it all up."
+
+"My music and my drawing, mother?"
+
+"Yes. Every girl does."
+
+"But I am not going to be married."
+
+"Not just yet,"--said Mr. Copley, drawing the soft arms round his
+neck,--"not just yet, Dolly. But when a girl is known to have so much
+money as you will have, there are sure to be plenty of fellows after
+her. Somebody will catch you up, some of these days."
+
+"Somebody who wants my money, father?"
+
+"Everybody wants money"--Mr. Copley answered evasively.
+
+"They would not come and tell you so, I suppose?"
+
+"Not exactly. That isn't the game."
+
+"Then they would pretend to like me, while they only wanted my money?"
+
+"Mr. Copley, do you think what notions you are putting in Dolly's head?
+Don't you know yet, that whatever you put in Dolly's head, stays
+there?" Mrs. Copley objected.
+
+"I like that," said Dolly's father. "Most girls' heads are like paper
+fly traps--won't hold anything but a fly. Dolly, in the pocket of my
+overcoat that hangs up in the hall, there is something that concerns
+you."
+
+"Which pocket, father?"
+
+"Ay, you've got your head on your shoulders! That's right. In the inner
+breast pocket, my dear. You'll find a small packet, tied up in paper."
+
+Being brought and duly opened, Mr. Copley's fingers took out of a small
+paper box a yet smaller package in silk paper and handed it to Dolly.
+It was a pretty little gold watch.
+
+"Why didn't you wait till you go to Geneva, Mr. Copley?" said his wife.
+"You could have got it cheaper and better there."
+
+"How do you know, my dear, without knowing how much I paid for this, or
+how good it is? I am not going to Geneva, either. Well, Dolly?"
+
+Dolly gave her father a mute kiss, which was expressive.
+
+"_You_ think it will do, then. What will you wear it on? I should have
+thought of that. You must have a chain."
+
+"Oh, I have got a chain!" Dolly cried, and off she ran to fetch it. She
+came back presently with the little box which had been sent her from
+the "Achilles," and sat down by the lamp to put the watch on the chain.
+Her father's eye rested on her as she sat there, and well it might. The
+lamp-light fell among the light loose curls of brown hair, glanced from
+the white brow, showed the delicate flush with which delight had
+coloured her cheeks, and then lit up the little hands which were busy
+with gold and wreathen work of the cable chain. The eyes he could not
+see; the mouth, he thought, with its innocent half smile, was as sweet
+as a mouth could be. Mrs. Copley was looking that way too, but seeing
+somewhat else. Eyes do see in the same picture such different things.
+
+"What have you got there, Dolly?"
+
+"A chain, mother. I am so glad! I never could wear it, before. Now I am
+so glad."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"A chain, mother," said Dolly, holding it up.
+
+"What sort of a chain? Made of what?"
+
+Dolly told her story. Mrs. Copley examined and wondered at the elegance
+of the work. Mr. Copley promised Dolly a chain of gold.
+
+"I do not want it, father. I like this," said Dolly, putting the chain
+round her neck.
+
+"Not better than a gold one?"
+
+"Yes, father, I do."
+
+"Why, child?"
+
+"It reminds me of the time, and of the person that made it; and I like
+it for all that."
+
+"Who was the person? what was his name?"
+
+"A midshipman on the 'Achilles.' His name was Crowninshield."
+
+"A good name," said Mr. Copley.
+
+"Why that was five and a half years ago, child. Did he make such an
+impression on you? Where is he now?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"You have never seen him since?"
+
+"Nor heard of him. I could not even find his name in any of the lists
+of officers of ships, that I saw sometimes in the paper."
+
+"I'll look for it," said Mr. Copley.
+
+But though he was as good as his word, he was no more successful than
+Dolly had been.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+LONDON.
+
+Mrs. Copley did not like London. So she declared after a stay of some
+months had given her, as she supposed, an opportunity of judging. The
+house they inhabited was not in a sufficiently fashionable quarter, she
+complained; and society did not seem to open its doors readily to the
+new American consul.
+
+"I suppose, mother, we have not been here long enough. People do not
+know us."
+
+"What do you call 'long enough'?" said Mrs. Copley with sharp emphasis.
+"And how are people to know us, if they do not come to see us? When
+people are strangers, is the very time to go and make their
+acquaintance; I should say."
+
+"English nature likes to know people before it makes their
+acquaintance," Mr. Copley remarked. "I do not think you have any cause
+to find fault."
+
+"No; you have all _you_ want in the way of society, and you have no
+notion how it is with me. That is men's way. And what do you expect to
+do with Dolly, shut up in this smoky old street? You might think of
+Dolly."
+
+"Dolly, dear," said her father, "are you getting smoked out, like your
+mother? Do you want to go with me and see the Bank of England to-day?"
+
+Dolly made a joyful spring to kiss her thanks, and then flew off to get
+ready; but stopped at the door.
+
+"Won't you go too, mother?"
+
+"And tire myself to death? No, thank you, Dolly. I am not so young as I
+was once."
+
+"You are a very young woman for your years, my dear," said Mr. Copley
+gallantly.
+
+"But I should like to know, Frank," said Mrs. Copley, thawing a little,
+"what you do mean to do with Dolly?"
+
+"Take her to see the Bank of England. It's a wonderful institution."
+
+"You know what I mean, Frank. Don't run away from my question. You have
+society enough, I suppose, of the kind that suits you; but Dolly and I
+are alone, or as near as possible. What is to become of Dolly, shut up
+here in smoke and fog? You should think of Dolly. I can stand it for
+myself."
+
+"There'll be no want of people to think of Dolly."
+
+"If they could see her; but they don't see her. How are they to see
+her?"
+
+"I'll get you a place down in the country, if you like; out of the
+smoke."
+
+"I should like it very much. But that will not help Dolly."
+
+"Yes, it will; help her to keep fresh. I'll get her a pony."
+
+"Mr. Copley, you will not answer me! I am talking of Dolly's prospects.
+You do not seem to consider them."
+
+"How old is Dolly?"
+
+"Seventeen."
+
+"Too young for prospects, my dear."
+
+"Not too young for us to think about it, and take care that she does
+not miss them. Mr. Copley, do you know Dolly is very handsome?"
+
+"She is better than that!" said Mr. Copley proudly. "I understand
+faces, if I don't prospects. There is not the like of Dolly to be seen
+in Hyde Park any day."
+
+"Why don't you take her to ride in the Park then, and let her be seen?"
+
+"Do you want her to marry an Englishman?"
+
+Mrs. Copley was silent, and before she spoke again Dolly came in, ready
+for her expedition.
+
+London was not quite to Dolly the disappointing thing her mother
+declared it. She was at an age to find pleasure in everything from
+which a fine sense could bring it out; and not being burdened with
+thoughts about "prospects," and finding her own and her mother's
+society always sufficient for herself, Dolly went gaily on from day to
+day, like a bee from flower to flower; sucking sweetness in each one.
+She had a large and insatiable appetite for the sight and knowledge of
+everything that was worth seeing or knowing; it followed, that London
+was to her a rich treasure field. She delighted in viewing it under its
+historical aspect; she would study out the associations and the
+chronicled events connected with a particular point; and then, with her
+mind and heart full of the subject, go some day to visit the place with
+her father. What pleasure she took in this way it is impossible to
+tell. Mr. Copley was excessively fond and proud of his daughter, even
+though her mother thought him so careless about her interests; his life
+was a busy one, but from time to time he would spare half a day to give
+to Dolly, and then they went sight-seeing together. Old houses, old
+gateways and courts, old corners and streets, where something had
+happened or somebody had lived that henceforth could never be
+forgotten, how Dolly studied them and hung about them! Mr. Copley
+himself cared for no historical associations, neither could he
+apprehend picturesque effects; what he did care for was Dolly; and for
+her sake he would linger hours, if need were, around some bit of old
+London; and find amusement enough the while in watching Dolly. Dolly
+studied like an antiquary, and dreamed like a romantic girl; and at the
+same time enjoyed fine effects with the true natural feeling of an
+artist; though Dolly was no artist. The sense had not been cultivated,
+but the feeling was born in her. So the British Museum was to her
+something quite beyond fairyland; a region of wonders, where past ages
+went by in procession; or better, stood still for her eyes to gaze upon
+them. The Tower was another place of indescribable fascination. How
+many visits they made to it I dare not say; Dolly never had enough; and
+her delight was so much of a feast to her father that he did not grudge
+the time nor mind what he would have called the dawdling. Indeed it was
+a sort of refuge to Mr. Copley, when business perplexities or
+iterations had fairly wearied him, which sometimes happened; then he
+would flee away from the dust and confusion of present life in the city
+and lose himself with Dolly in the cool shades of the past. That might
+seem dusty to him too; but there was always a fresh spring of life in
+his little daughter which made a green place for him wherever she
+happened to be. So Mr. Copley was as contented with the condition of
+things at this time as it was in his nature to feel. He had enough
+society, as his wife had stated; he had all he wanted in that line; he
+was just as well contented to keep Dolly for the present at home and to
+himself. He did not want her to be snapped up by somebody, he said; and
+if you don't mean to have a fire, you had best not leave matches lying
+about; a sentiment which Mrs. Copley received with great scorn.
+
+It would have, so far, suited the views of both parents, to send Dolly
+to some first-rate boarding school for a year or two. Only, they could
+not do without her. She was the staple of Mrs. Copley's life, and the
+spice of life to her husband. Dolly was kept at home therefore, and
+furnished with masters in music and drawing, and at her pressing
+request, in languages also. And just because she made diligent,
+conscientious use of these advantages and worked hard most of the time,
+Dolly the more richly enjoyed an occasional half day of wandering about
+with her father. She came home from her visit to the Bank of England in
+high glee and with a brave appetite for her late luncheon.
+
+"Well," said Mrs. Copley, watching her,--"now you have tired yourself
+out again; and for what?"
+
+"O mother, it was a very great sight!" said Dolly. "I wish you had been
+along. I think it has given me the best notion of the greatness of
+England that I have got from anything yet."
+
+"Money isn't _everything_," said Mrs. Copley scornfully. "I dare say we
+have just as good banks in America."
+
+"Father says, there is nothing equal to it in the world."
+
+"That is because your father is so taken with everything English. He'd
+be sure to say that. I don't know why a bank in America shouldn't be as
+good as a bank here, or anywhere."
+
+"It isn't that, mother. A bank might be _good_, in one sense; but it
+could not be such a magnificent establishment as this, anywhere but in
+England."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Oh, the abundance of wealth here, mother; and the scale of everything;
+and the superb order and system. English system is something
+beautiful." And Dolly went on to explain to her mother the arrangements
+of the bank, and in especial the order taken for the preservation and
+gradual destruction of the redeemed notes.
+
+"I should like to know what is the use of such things as banks at all?"
+was Mrs. Copley's unsatisfied comment.
+
+"Why mother? don't you know? they make business so much easier, and
+safer."
+
+"I wish there was no such thing as banks, then."
+
+"O mother! Why do you say that?"
+
+"Then your father would maybe let business alone."
+
+"But he is fond of business!"
+
+"I don't think business is fond of him. He gets drawn into a
+speculation here and a speculation there, by some of these people he is
+always with; and some day he will do it once too often. He has enough
+for us all now; if he would only keep to his consul's business and let
+banks alone."
+
+Mrs. Copley looked worried, and Dolly for a moment looked grave; but it
+was her mother's way to talk so.
+
+"Why did he take the consulship?"
+
+"Ask him! Because he would rather be a nobody in England than a
+somebody in America."
+
+"Mother," said Dolly after a pause, "we have an invitation to dinner."
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Father and I."
+
+"Not me!" cried Mrs. Copley. "You and your father, and not your
+father's wife!"
+
+"I suppose the people do not know you, mother, nor know about you; that
+must be the reason."
+
+"How do they know about you, pray?"
+
+"They have seen me. At least one of them has; so father says."
+
+"One of whom?"
+
+"One of the family."
+
+"What family is it?"
+
+"A rich banker's family, father says. Mr. St. Leger."
+
+"St. Leger. That is a good name here."
+
+"They are very rich, father says, and have a beautiful place."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"Some miles out of London; a good many, I think."
+
+"Where is your invitation?"
+
+"Where?--Oh, it is not written. Mr. St. Leger asked father to come and
+bring me."
+
+"And _Mrs._ St. Leger has sent you no invitation, then. Not even a
+card, Dolly?"
+
+"Why no, mother. Was that necessary?"
+
+"It would have been civil," said Mrs. Copley. "It is what she would
+have done to an Englishwoman. I suppose they think we don't know any
+better."
+
+Dolly was silent, and Mrs. Copley presently went on.--"How can you go
+to dinner several miles away? You would have to come back in the night."
+
+"Oh no; we could not do that. Mr. St. Leger asked us to stay over till
+next day."
+
+"It is just like everything else in this miserable country!" Mrs.
+Copley exclaimed. "I wish I was at home!"
+
+"Oh, why, mother? We shall go home by and by; why cannot you enjoy
+things, while we are here?"
+
+"Enjoy what? Staying here in the house and seeing you and your father
+go off to dinners without me? At home I am Mrs. Copley, and it means
+something; here, it seems, I am Mr. Copley's housekeeper."
+
+"But, mother, nobody meant any affront. And you will not see us go off
+and leave you; for I shall stay at home."
+
+"Indeed you will do no such thing! I am not going to have you asked
+anywhere, really asked to a dinner, and not go. You shall go, Dolly.
+But I really think Mr. Copley might have managed to let the people know
+you had a mother somewhere. That's what he would have done, if it
+wasn't for business. It is business that swallows him up; and I don't
+know for my part what life is good for so. Once I had a husband. Now, I
+declare I haven't got anything but you, Dolly."
+
+"Mother, you _have_ me," said the girl, kissing her. And the caress was
+so sweet that it reminded Mrs. Copley how much that one word "Dolly"
+signified; and she was quiet. And when Mr. Copley came home, and the
+subject was discussed anew, she limited herself to inquiries about the
+family and questions concerning Dolly's dress, refraining from all
+complaints on her own score.
+
+"St. Leger?" said Mr. Copley. "Who is he? He's a goodish old fellow;
+sharp as a hawk in business; but he's solid; solid as the Bank. That's
+all there is about him; he is of no great count, except for his money.
+He'll never set the Thames on fire. What did he ask us for?--Humph!
+Well--he and I have had a good deal to do with each other. And then--"
+Mr. Copley paused and his eyes involuntarily went over the table to his
+daughter. "Do you remember, Dolly, being in my office one day, a month
+ago or more, when Mr. St. Leger came in? he and his son?"
+
+Dolly remembered nothing about it; remembered indeed being there, but
+not who came in.
+
+"Well, _they_ remember it," said Mr. Copley.
+
+"Is it a good place for Dolly to go?"
+
+"Dolly? Oh yes. Why not? They have a fine place out of town. Dolly will
+tell you about it when she has been there."
+
+"And what must Dolly wear?" pursued Mrs. Copley.
+
+"Wear? Oh, just what everybody wears. The regular thing, I suppose.
+Dolly may wear what she has a mind to."
+
+"That is just what you know she cannot, Mr. Copley. At home she might;
+but these people here are so very particular."
+
+"About dress? Not at all, my dear. English people let you go your own
+way in that as much as any people on the face of the earth. They do not
+care how you dress."
+
+"They don't _care_, no," said Mrs. Copley; "they don't care if you went
+on your head; but all the same they judge you according to how you look
+and what you do. And us especially because we are foreigners. I don't
+want them to turn up their noses at Dolly because she is an American."
+
+"I'd as lieve they did it for that as for anything," said Dolly
+laughing; "but I hope the people we are going to will know better."
+
+"They _will_ know better, there is no fear," answered her father.
+
+The subject troubled Mrs. Copley's head, however, from that time till
+the day of the dinner; and even after Dolly and her father had driven
+off and were gone, she still debated with herself uneasily whether a
+darker dress would have done better, and whether Dolly ought to have
+had flowers in her hair, to make her very best impression upon her
+entertainers. For Dolly had elected to wear white, and would deck
+herself with no ornament at all, neither ribband nor flower. Mrs.
+Copley half grumbled, yet could not but allow to herself that there was
+nothing to wish for in the finished effect; and Dolly was allowed to
+depart; but as I said, after she was gone, Mrs. Copley went on
+troubling herself with doubts on the question.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+THE PEACOCKS.
+
+No doubts troubled Dolly's mind during that drive, about dress or
+anything else. Her dress she had forgotten indeed; and the pain of
+leaving her mother at home was forced to give way before the multitude
+of new and pleasant impressions. That drive was pure enjoyment. The
+excitement and novelty of the occasion gave no doubt a spur to Dolly's
+spirits and quickened her perceptions; they were all alive, as the
+carriage rolled along over the smooth roads. What could be better than
+to drive so, on such an evening, through such a country? For the
+weather was perfect, the landscape exceedingly rich and fair, the
+vegetation in its glory. And the roads themselves were full of the most
+varied life, and offered to the little American girl a flashing,
+changing, very amusing and abundantly suggestive scene. Dolly's eyes
+were incessantly busy, yet her lips did not move unless to smile; and
+her father for a long time would not interrupt her meditations. Good
+that she should forget herself, he thought; if she were recalled to the
+practical present maybe she would grow nervous. That was the only thing
+Mr. Copley was afraid of. However, for him to keep absolute silence
+beyond a limited time was out of his nature.
+
+"Are you happy, Dolly?" he asked her.
+
+"Very happy, father! If only mother was with us."
+
+"Ah, yes, it would have been rather pleasanter for you; but you must
+not mind that."
+
+"I am afraid I do not mind it enough, I am so amused with everything. I
+cannot help it."
+
+"That's right. Now, Dolly"
+
+"Yes, father"
+
+"I should like to know what you have been thinking of all this while. I
+have been watching the smiles coming and going."
+
+"I do not know that I was thinking at all--until just now; just before
+you spoke."
+
+"And of what then?"
+
+"It came to me, I do not know why, a question. We have passed so many
+people who seemed as if they were enjoying themselves,--like me;--and
+so many pretty-looking places, where people might live happy, one would
+think; and the question somehow came to me, father, what I am going to
+do with my own life?"
+
+"Do with it?" said Mr. Copley astonished; "why enjoy it, Dolly. Every
+day as much as to-day."
+
+"But perhaps one cannot enjoy life always," said Dolly thoughtfully.
+
+"All you can, then, dear; all you can. There is nothing to prevent
+_your_ always enjoying it. You will have money enough; and that is the
+main thing. There is nothing to hinder your enjoying yourself."
+
+"But, father, don't you think one ought to do more with one's life than
+that?"
+
+"Yes; you'll marry one of these days, and so make somebody else enjoy
+himself."
+
+"What would become of you and mother then?" asked Dolly shyly.
+
+"We'd get along," said Mr. Copley. "What we care about, is to see you
+enjoy life, Dolly. Are you enjoying it now, puss?"
+
+"Very much, father."
+
+"Then so am I."
+
+The carriage left the high road here, and Dolly's attention was again,
+seemingly, all bestowed on what she saw from its windows. Her father
+watched her, and could not observe that she was either timid or excited
+in the prospect of the new scenes upon which she was about to enter.
+Her big brown eyes were wide open, busy and interested, at the same
+time wholly self-forgetful. Self-forgetful they remained when arriving
+at the house, and when she was introduced to the family; and her manner
+consequently left nothing to be desired. Yet house and grounds and
+establishment were on a scale to which Dolly hitherto had been entirely
+unaccustomed.
+
+There was a small dinner party gathered, and Dolly was taken in to
+table by young Mr. St. Leger, the son of their host. Dolly had seen
+this gentleman before, and so in this concourse of strangers she felt
+more at home with him than with anybody. Young Mr. St. Leger was a very
+handsome fellow; with regular features and soft, rather lazy, blue
+eyes, which, however, were not insipid. Dolly rather liked him; the
+expression of his features was gentle and good, so were his manners. He
+seemed well pleased with his choice of a companion, and did his best to
+make Dolly pleased also.
+
+"You are new in this part of the world?" he remarked to her.
+
+"I am new in any part of the world," said Dolly, dimpling, as she did
+when something struck her funnily. "I am not very old yet."
+
+"No, I see," said her companion, laughing a little, though in some
+doubt whether he or she had made the fun. "How do you like us? Or
+haven't you been long enough here to judge?"
+
+"I have been in England a good many months."
+
+"Then is it a fair question?"
+
+"All questions are fair," said Dolly. "I like some things here very
+much."
+
+"I should be delighted to know what."
+
+"I'll tell you," said Dolly's father, who sat opposite and had caught
+the question. "She likes an old suit of armour or a collection of old
+stones in the form of an arch or a gateway; and in the presence of the
+crown jewels she was almost as bad as that Scotch lady who worshipped
+the old Regalia of the northern kingdom. Only it was the antiquity that
+Dolly worshipped, you know; not the royalty."
+
+"What is there in antiquity?" said Mr. St. Leger, turning his eyes
+again curiously to Dolly. "Old things were young once; how are they any
+better for being old?"
+
+"Not any better; only more interesting."
+
+"Pray tell me why."
+
+"Think of what those old stones have seen."
+
+"Pardon me; they have not _seen_ anything."
+
+"Think of the eyes that have seen them, then. Or stand before one of
+those old suits of armour in the Tower, and think where it has been.
+Think of the changes that have come; and what a strange witness it is
+for the things that were and have passed away."
+
+
+"I am more interested in the present," said the young man. "I perceive
+you are romantic."
+
+Dolly was silent. She thought one of those halls of old armour in the
+Tower was in its attractions very far beyond the present dinner table;
+although indeed this amused her. Presently her companion began again
+and gave her details about all the guests; who they were, and how they
+happened to be there; and then suddenly asked her if she had ever been
+to the races? Dolly inquired what races; and was informed that the
+Epsom races were just beginning. Would she like to go to them? was
+inquired eagerly.
+
+Dolly had no idea what was the real character of the show she was asked
+about; and she answered in accordance with her general craving to see
+everything. Nevertheless she was somewhat surprised, when the gentlemen
+came up from dinner, to hear the proposition earnestly made; made by
+both Mr. and Mrs. St. Leger; that she and her father should go with
+them the next day to the Epsom races; and she was greatly astonished to
+hear her father agree to the proposal, although the acceptance of it
+involved the staying another day away from home and the sleeping a
+second night at the St. Leger place. But Dolly was not consulted. The
+family expressed their pleasure in undoubted terms, and young Mr. St.
+Leger's blue eyes had a gleam of satisfaction in them, as he assured
+Dolly that now they would "show her something of interest in the
+present."
+
+Dolly was the youngest guest in the house, and by all rules the one
+entitled to least consideration; yet she went to sleep that night in a
+chamber the most superb she had ever inhabited in her life. She looked
+around her with wonder at the richness of every matter of detail, and a
+little private query how _she_, little Dolly Copley, came to be so
+lodged? Her mother would have no reason _here_ to complain of want of
+due regard. And all the evening there had been no such complaint to
+make. People had been very kind, Dolly said to herself as she was
+falling asleep. But how _could_ her father have consented to stay
+another day, for any races in the world--leaving her mother alone? But
+she could not help it; and no doubt the next day would be amusing;
+to-day had been amusing--and Dolly's thoughts went no further.
+
+The next morning everybody drove or rode to the races. Dolly herself
+was taken by young Mr. St. Leger, along with one of his sisters, in an
+elegant little vehicle for which she knew no name. It was very
+comfortable, and they drove very fast--till the crowd hindered them,
+that is; and certainly Dolly was amused. All was novel and strange to
+her; the concourse, the equipages, the people, the horses, even before
+they arrived at the race grounds. There a good position was secured,
+and Dolly saw the whole of that day's performances. Mr. St. Leger
+attended to her unremittingly; he and his sister explained everything,
+and pointed out the people of mark within their range of vision; his
+blue eyes grew quite animated, and looked into Dolly's to see what they
+could find there, of response or otherwise. And Dolly's eyes were grave
+and wide-awake, intent, very busy, very lively, but how far they were
+brightened with pleasure he could not tell. They were bright, he saw
+that; fearless, pure, sweet eyes, that yet baffled him; no trace of
+self-consciousness or self-seeking was to be found in them; and young
+St. Leger stood a little in awe, as common men will, before a face so
+uncommon. He ventured no direct question for the satisfying of his
+curiosity until they had returned, and dinner was over. Indeed he did
+not venture it then; it was his father who asked it. He too had
+observed the simple, well-bred, lovely little maiden, and had a little
+curiosity on his own part.
+
+"Well, Miss Copley--now you have seen Epsom, how do you like it?"
+
+Dolly hesitated. "I have been very much interested, sir, thank you,"
+she said gravely.
+
+"But how do you _like_ it? Did you enjoy it?"
+
+Dolly hesitated again. Finally smiled and confessed. "I was sorry for
+the horses."
+
+"Sorry for the horses!" her host repeated. "What for?"
+
+"Yes, what for?" added the younger St. Leger. "They were not ill
+treated."
+
+"No,--" said Dolly doubtfully, "perhaps not,--but they were running
+very hard, and for nothing."
+
+"For nothing!" echoed Mr. St. Leger again. "It was for a good many
+thousand pounds. There's many a one was there to-day who wishes they
+had run for nothing!"
+
+"But after all, that is for nothing," said Dolly. "It is no good to
+anybody."
+
+"Except to those that win," said the old gentleman. "Except to those
+that win!" Probably _he_ had won.
+
+Dolly wanted to get out of the conversation. She made no answer.
+Another gentleman spoke up, and opined, were it not for the money won
+and lost, the whole thing would fail of its attraction. It would be no
+sport indeed, if the horses ran _for nothing_. "Do you have no races
+in--a--your country?" he asked Dolly.
+
+Dolly believed so. She had never been present at them.
+
+"Nothing like Epsom," said her father. "We shall have nothing to show
+like that for some time. But Dolly takes practical views. I saw her
+smiling out of the windows, as we drove along, coming here yesterday;
+and I asked her what she was thinking of? I expected to hear her say,
+the beauty of the plantations, or the richness of the country, or the
+elegance and variety of the equipages we passed. She answered me she
+was thinking _what she should do with her life!_"
+
+There was a general gentle note of amusement audible through the room,
+but old Mr. St. Leger laughed out in a broad "ha, ha."
+
+"What did you conclude, my dear?" said he. "What did you conclude? I am
+interested to know."
+
+"I could not conclude then, sir," said Dolly, bearing the laugh very
+well, with a pretty little peach-blossom blush coming upon her cheeks.
+
+"'Tisn't difficult to know," the old gentleman went on, not unkindly
+watching Dolly's face play. "There is one pretty certain lot for a
+pretty young woman. She will manage her household, take care of her
+husband, and bring up her children,--one of these days."
+
+"That is not precisely the ambition of all pretty young women,"
+remarked one of the party; while Mrs. St. Leger good humouredly drew
+Dolly down to a seat beside her and engrossed her attention.
+
+"You meant the words perhaps in another sense, more practical, that
+your father did not think of. You were thinking maybe what profession
+you would follow?"
+
+"I beg your pardon, ma'am!" said Dolly, quite perplexed now. "How do
+you mean, profession?"
+
+"Yes; perhaps you were thinking of being a governess some day, or a
+teacher, or something of that sort; were you?"
+
+Dolly's face dimpled all over in a way that seemed to young St. Leger
+the very prettiest, winningest, most uncommon loveliness that his eyes
+had ever been blessed with. Said eyes were inseparable from Dolly; he
+had no attention but for her looks and words; and his mother knew as
+much, while she too looked at the girl and waited for her answer.
+
+"Oh no," Dolly said; "I was not thinking of any such thing. My father
+does not wish me to do anything of the kind."
+
+"Then what _did_ you mean, my dear?"
+
+Dolly lifted a pair of sweet grave eyes to the face of her questioner;
+a full, rather bloated face, very florid; with an expression of eyes
+kindly indeed, but unresting, dissatisfied; or if that is too strong a
+word, not content. Dolly looked at all this and answered--
+
+"I don't want to live merely to live, ma'am."
+
+"Don't you? What more do you want? To live pleasantly, of course; for
+not to do _that_, is not what I call living."
+
+"I was not thinking of pleasant living. But--I do not want my life to
+be like those horses running to-day," said Dolly smiling; "for nothing;
+of no use."
+
+"Don't you think a woman is of use and fills her place, my dear, who
+looks after her household and attends to her family, and does her duty
+by society?"
+
+"Yes," said Dolly hesitating,--"but that is not enough." The girl was
+thinking of her own mother at the moment.
+
+"Not enough? Why, yes, it is enough. That is a woman's place and
+business. What else would you do?"
+
+Dolly was in some embarrassment now. She must answer, for Mrs. St.
+Leger was waiting for it; but her answer could not be understood. Her
+eye took in again the rich appliances for present enjoyment which
+filled the room, above, below, and around her; and then she said, her
+eye coming back--
+
+"I would like my life to be good for something that would not pass
+away."
+
+"Not pass away? Why, everything passes away, my child" (and there came
+a sigh here),--"in time. The thing is to make the best of them while we
+have them."
+
+Is that all? thought Dolly, as she noticed the untested, rather sad
+look of her hostess's face; and she wished she could say more, but she
+dared not. Then young Mr. St. Leger bent forward, and inquired what she
+could be thinking of that would _not_ pass away? His mother saw the
+look with which his blue eyes sought the face of the little stranger;
+and turned away with another sigh, born half of sympathy with her boy's
+feeling and half of jealousy against the subject of it. Dolly saw the
+look too, but did not comprehend it. She simply wondered why these
+people put her through the catechism so?
+
+"What could you be thinking of?" St. Leger repeated, sliding into the
+seat his mother had quitted.
+
+"Don't you know anything that will last?" Dolly retorted.
+
+"No," said the young man, laughing. "Do you? Except that I have heard
+that 'A thing of beauty is a joy forever.'"
+
+This, which was a remarkable flight for St. Leger, was lost upon simple
+Dolly.
+
+"Oh, I know that is true," she answered; "but that is just a way of
+speaking. It would not be a joy to me, if I had not something else to
+hold to. I am sorry for you."
+
+"Really? I wish I could think that. It would be delightful to have you
+sorry for me."
+
+"It would be much better not to need it."
+
+"I don't know about that. Perhaps, if you were very sorry for me, you
+would try to teach me better."
+
+"Perhaps; but I shall not have time. I suppose we shall go away very
+early in the morning."
+
+"I should like to show you the gardens, first."
+
+"Haven't we seen them?"
+
+"Why, of course not. All that you have seen is a little shrubbery and a
+bit of the park. Suppose we go over the gardens in the morning?"
+
+"I am sure we shall return home immediately after breakfast."
+
+"Before breakfast then? Why not?"
+
+This plan went into effect. It was an occasion of great pleasure to
+both parties. No better time could be for seeing the utmost beauty of
+the flowers; and Dolly wandered in what was to her a wilderness of an
+enchanted land. Breakfast was forgotten; and young St. Leger was so
+charmed with this perfectly fresh, simple, and lively nature, that he
+for his part was willing to forget it indefinitely. Dolly's utter
+delight, and her intelligent, quick apprehension, the sparkle in her
+eye, the happy colour in her cheeks, made her to his fancy the rarest
+thing he had ever seen. The gardener, who was summoned to give
+information of which his young master was not possessed, entertained
+quite the same opinion; and thanks to his admiring gratification Dolly
+went back to the house the possessor of a most superb bouquet, which he
+had cut for her and offered through Mr. St. Leger.
+
+There were some significant half smiles around the breakfast table, as
+the young pair and the flowers made their appearance. St. Leger braved
+them; Dolly did not see them. Her sweet eyes were full of the blissful
+enchantment still. Immediately after breakfast, as she had said, her
+father took leave.
+
+Mrs. Copley had awaited their coming in a mood half irritation, half
+gratification. The latter conquered when she saw Dolly.
+
+"Now tell me all about it!" she said, before Dolly even could take off
+her bonnet.
+
+"She went to the races," said Mr. Copley.
+
+"That's a queer place for Dolly to go, Mr. Copley."
+
+"Not at all. Everybody goes that can go."
+
+"I think it's a queer place for young ladies to go," persisted the
+mother.
+
+"It is a queer place enough for anybody, if you come to that; but no
+worse for them than for others; and it is they make the scene so pretty
+as it is."
+
+"I can't imagine how there should be anything pretty in seeing horses
+run to death!" said Mrs. Copley.
+
+"I just said it is the pretty girls that give the charm," said her
+husband. "Though _I_ can see some beauty in a fine horse, and in good
+riding; and they understand riding, those Epsom jockeys."
+
+"Jockeys!" his wife repeated. "I don't want to hear you talk about
+jockeys, Mr. Copley."
+
+"I am not going to, my dear. I give up the field to Dolly."
+
+"Mother, the first thing was the place. It is a most beautiful place."
+
+"The race-ground?"
+
+"No, no, mother; Mr. St. Leger's place. 'The Peacocks,' they call it."
+
+"What do they give it such a ridiculous name for?"
+
+"I don't know. Perhaps they used to have a great many peacocks. But the
+place is the most beautiful place I ever saw. Mother, we were half an
+hour driving from the lodge at the park gate to the house."
+
+"The road so bad?"
+
+"So _long_, mother; think of it; half an hour through the park woods,
+until we carne out upon the great lawn dotted with the noblest trees
+you ever saw."
+
+"Better than the trees in Boston common? I guess not," said Mrs. Copley.
+
+"Those are good trees, mother, but nothing to these. These are just
+magnificent."
+
+"I don't see why fine trees cannot grow as well on American ground as
+on English," said Mrs. Copley incredulously.
+
+"Give them time enough," put in her husband.
+
+"Time!"
+
+"Yes. We are a new country, comparatively, my dear. These old oaks here
+have been growing for hundreds of years."
+
+"And what should hinder them from growing hundreds of years over there?
+I suppose the _ground_ is as old as England; if Columbus didn't
+discover it all at once."
+
+"The ground," said Mr. Copley, eyeing the floor between his
+boots,--"yes, the ground; but it takes more than ground to make large
+trees. It takes good ground, and favouring climate, and culture; or at
+least to be let alone. Now we don't let things alone in America."
+
+"I know _you_ don't," said his wife. "Well, Dolly, go on with your
+story."
+
+"Well, mother,--there were these grand old trees, and beautiful grass
+under them, and cattle here and there, and the house showing in the
+distance. I did not like the house so very much, when we came to it; it
+is not old; but it is exceedingly handsome, and most beautifully
+furnished. I never had such a room in my life, as I have slept in these
+two nights."
+
+"And yet you don't like it!" put in Mr. Copley.
+
+"I like it," said Dolly slowly. "I like all the comfort of it; but I
+don't think it is very pretty, father. It's very _new_."
+
+"New!" said her father. "What's the harm of a thing's being new? And
+what is the charm of its being old?"
+
+"I don't know," said Dolly thoughtfully; "but I like it. Then, mother,
+came the dinner; and the dinner was like the house."
+
+"That don't tell me anything," exclaimed Mrs. Copley. "What was the
+house like?"
+
+"Mother, you go first into a great hall, set all round with marble
+figures--statues--and with a heavy staircase going up at one side. It's
+all marble. But oh, the flower garden is lovely!"
+
+"Well, tell me about the house," said Mrs. Copley. "And the dinner. Who
+was there?"
+
+"I don't know," said Dolly; "quite a company. There were one or two
+foreign gentlemen; a count somebody and a baron somebody; there was an
+English judge, and his wife, and two or three other ladies and
+gentlemen."
+
+"How did you like the gentlemen, Dolly?" her father asked here.
+
+"I had hardly anything to do with them, except the two Mr. St. Legers."
+
+"How did you like _them?_ I suppose, on your principle, you would tell
+me that you liked the _old_ one?"
+
+"Never mind them," said Mrs. Copley; "go on about the dinner. What did
+you have?"
+
+"Oh, everything, mother; and the most beautiful fruit at dessert; fruit
+from their own hothouses; and I saw the hothouses, afterwards. Most
+beautiful! the purple and white grapes were hanging in thick clusters
+all over the vines; and quantities of different sorts of pines were
+growing in another hothouse. I had a bunch of Frontignacs this morning
+before breakfast, father; and I never had grapes taste so good."
+
+"Yes, you must have wanted something," said Mr. Copley; "wandering
+about among flowers and fruit till ten o'clock without anything to eat!"
+
+"Poor Mr. St. Leger!" said Dolly. "But he was very kind. They were all
+very kind. If they only would not drink wine so!"
+
+"Wine!" Mrs. Copley exclaimed.
+
+"It was all dinner time; it began with the soup, and it did not end
+with the fruit, for the gentlemen sat on drinking after we had left
+them. And they had been drinking all dinner time; the decanters just
+went round and round."
+
+"Nonsense, Dolly!" her father said; "you are unaccustomed to the world,
+that is all. There was none but the most moderate drinking."
+
+"It was all dinner time, father."
+
+"That is the custom of gentlemen here. It is always so. Tell your
+mother about the races."
+
+"I don't like the races."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Well, tell me what they were, at any rate," said Mrs. Copley. "It is
+the least you can do."
+
+"I don't know how to tell you," said Dolly. "I will try. Imagine a
+great flat plain, mother, level as far as the eye can see. Imagine a
+straight line marked out, where the horses are to run; and at the end
+of it a post, which is the goal, and there is the judges' stand. All
+about this course, on both sides, that is towards the latter part of
+the course, fancy rows of carriages, drawn up as close as they can
+stand, the horses taken out; and on these carriages a crowd of people
+packed as thick as they can find room to sit and stand. They talk and
+laugh and discuss the horses. By and by you hear a cry that the horses
+have set off; and then everybody looks to see them coming, with all
+sorts of glasses and telescopes; and everybody is still, waiting and
+watching, until I suppose the horses get near enough for people to
+begin to judge how the race will turn out; and then begins the
+fearfullest uproar you ever heard, everybody betting and taking bets.
+_Everybody_ seemed to be doing it, even ladies. And with the betting
+comes the shouting, and the cursing, and the cheering on this one and
+that one; it was a regular Babel. Even the ladies betted."
+
+"Every one does it," said Mr. Copley.
+
+"And the poor horses come running, and driven to run as hard as they
+can; beautiful horses too, some of them; running to decide all those
+bets! I don't think it is an amusement for civilised people."
+
+"Why not?" said her father.
+
+"It is barbarous. There is no sense in it. If the white horse beats the
+black, I'll pay you a thousand pounds; but if the black horse beats the
+white, you shall pay me two thousand. Is there any sense in that?"
+
+"Some sense in a thousand pound."
+
+"Lost"--said Dolly.
+
+"It is better not to lose, certainly."
+
+"But somebody must lose. And people bet in a heat, before they know
+what they ought to say; and bet more than they have to spare; I saw it
+yesterday."
+
+"_You_ didn't bet, Mr. Copley?" said his wife.
+
+"A trifle. My dear, when one is in Rome, one must do as the Romans do."
+
+"Did you lose?"
+
+"I gained, a matter of fifty pounds."
+
+"Who did you gain it from, father?"
+
+"Lawrence St. Leger."
+
+"He has no right to bet with his father's money."
+
+"Perhaps it is his own. I will give you twenty pound of it, Dolly, to
+do what you like with."
+
+But Dolly would have none of it. If it was to be peace money, it made
+no peace with her.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+BRIERLEY COTTAGE.
+
+A few months later than this, it happened one day that Mr. Copley was
+surprised in his office by a visit from young St. Leger. Mr. Copley was
+sitting at a table in his own private room. It was not what you would
+call a very comfortable room; rather bare and desolate looking; a
+carpet and some chairs and desks and a table being the only furniture.
+The table was heaped up with papers, and desks and floor alike
+testified to an amount of heterogeneous business. Busy the Consul
+undoubtedly was, writing and studying; nevertheless, he welcomed his
+visitor. The young man came in like an inhabitant of another world, as
+he was; in spotlessly neat attire, leisurely manner, and with his blue
+eyes sleepily nonchalant at the sight of all the stir of all the world.
+But they smiled at Mr. Copley.
+
+"You seem to have your bands full," he remarked.
+
+"Rather. Don't I? Awfully! Secretary taken sick--confoundedly
+inconvenient." Mr. Copley went on writing as he spoke.
+
+"There are plenty of secretaries to be had."
+
+"Yes, but I haven't got hold of 'em yet. What brings you here,
+Lawrence? Not business, I suppose?"
+
+"Not business with the American Consul."
+
+"No. I made out so much by myself. What is it? I see all's right with
+you, by your face."
+
+"Thank you. Quite so. But you can't attend to me just now."
+
+"Go ahead," said Mr. Copley, whose pen did not cease to scribble. "I
+can hear. No time for anything like the present minute. I've got _this_
+case by heart, and don't need to think about it. Go on, Lawrence. Has
+your father sent you to me?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Sit down, and tell me what I can do for you."
+
+Mr. St. Leger sat down, but did not immediately comply with the rest of
+the invitation. He rested his elbow on the table, looked at Mr.
+Copley's pen for a few minutes, and said nothing; until Mr. Copley
+again glanced up at his face.
+
+"I do not know that you can do anything for me," said the young man
+then; "only you can perhaps answer a question or two. Mr. Copley, would
+you like to have me for a son-in-law?"
+
+"No," said the Consul shortly; "nor any other man. I'd as lieve have
+you as anybody, Lawrence."
+
+"Thank you. I couldn't expect more. But you must allow somebody in that
+capacity, Mr. Copley."
+
+"Must I? Depends on how much Dolly likes somebody."
+
+"That is just what I want to find out about myself," said the young man
+eagerly. "Then you would not put any hindrance?"
+
+"In the way of Dolly's happiness? Not if I know it. But _that's_ got to
+be proved."
+
+"You know, Mr. Copley, she would be happy with me."
+
+"How do I know that? I know nothing of the kind. It all depends on
+Dolly, I tell you. What does she think about it?"
+
+"That's just what I don't know and cannot find out. I have no chance. I
+cannot get sight of her."
+
+"Her mother's sick, you see. It keeps Dolly at home."
+
+"My mother has proposed several times to take Miss Copley out with her,
+and she will not go."
+
+"She's very kind, and we are grateful; but Dolly won't leave her
+mother."
+
+"So she says. Then how am I to see her, Mr. Copley? I can't expect her
+to like me if I never see her."
+
+"I don't know, my boy. Wait till better times."
+
+"Wait" is a word that lovers never want to hear; and Lawrence sat
+discontentedly watching the play of Mr. Copley's pen.
+
+"You know it would be all right about the money," he said at length.
+
+"Yes, yes; between your father and her father, I guess we could make it
+comfortable for you two. But the thing is all the while, what Dolly
+thinks of you."
+
+"And how am I to find that out?"
+
+"Can't tell, I declare. Unless you volunteer to become my secretary."
+
+"Does your secretary live in your family?"
+
+"Of course he does. One of us completely."
+
+"Will you take me, Mr. Copley?"
+
+"Yes, but you would never take the drudgery. It is not in your line."
+
+"Try me," said the young man. "I'll take it at once. Will you have me,
+Mr. Copley? But _she_ must not know what you take me for. I don't care
+for the drudgery. Will you let me come? On trial?"
+
+"Why is the boy in earnest? This is Jacob and Rachel over again!"
+
+"Not for seven years, I hope."
+
+"No, I shall not stay in this old crib as long as that. The question
+will have to be decided sooner. We haven't so much time to spare as
+those old patriarchs. But Dolly must have time to make up her mind, if
+it takes seven years. She is a queer little piece, and usually has a
+mind of her own. About this affair she certainly will. I'll give Mrs.
+Copley a hint to keep quiet, and Dolly will never suspect anything."
+
+Lawrence was so thoroughly in earnest that he insisted on going to work
+at once. And the next day he was introduced at the house and made at
+home there.
+
+It was quite true that Mrs. Copley was unwell; the doctors were not yet
+agreed as to the cause. She was feeble and nervous and feverish, and
+Dolly's time was wholly devoted to her. In these circumstances St.
+Leger's coming into the family made a very pleasant change. Dolly
+wondered a little that the rich banker's son should care to do business
+in the American Consul's office; but she troubled her head little about
+it. What he did in the office was out of her sphere; at home, in the
+family, he was a great improvement on the former secretary. Mr. Barr,
+his predecessor, had been an awkward, angular, taciturn fourth person
+in the house; a machine of the pen; nothing more. Mr. St. Leger brought
+quite a new life into the family circle. It is true, he was himself no
+great talker; but his blue eyes were eloquent. They were beautiful
+eyes; and they spoke of kindness of heart, gentleness of disposition,
+and undoubted liking for his present companions. There was refinement
+too, and the habit of the world, and the power of comprehending at
+least what others spoke; and gentle as he was, there was also now and
+then a gleam which showed some fire and some persistent self-will; that
+amount of backbone without which a man's agreeable qualities go for
+nothing with women. It was pleasant, his respectful attention to Mrs.
+Copley; it was pleasant too the assistance he was to Mr. Copley's
+monologues; if he did not say a great deal himself, his blue eyes gave
+intelligent heed, and he could also now and then say a word in the
+right place. With Dolly he took very soon the familiar habit of a
+brother. She liked him, she liked to pour out his coffee for him, it
+amused her to hear her father talk to him, she was grateful for his
+kindness to her mother; and before long the words exchanged between
+themselves came in the easy, enjoyable tone of a thorough good
+understanding. I don't know but St. Leger would have liked a little
+more shyness on her part. Dolly was not given to shyness in any
+company; and as to being shy with him, she would as soon have thought
+of being on terms of ceremony with Berdan, the great hound that her
+father was so proud of. And poor St. Leger was more hopelessly in love
+every day. Dolly was so fresh and cool and sweet, as she came down to
+breakfast in her white wrapper; she was so despairingly careless and
+free; and at evening, dressed for dinner, she was so quiet and simple
+and graceful; it was another thing, he said to himself, seeing a girl
+in this way, from dancing with her in a cloud of lace and flowers in a
+crowded room, and talking conventional nothings. Now, on the contrary,
+he was always admiring Dolly's practical business ways; the quick eye
+and capable hand; the efficient attention she bestowed on the affairs
+of the household and gave to her father's and mother's comfort, and
+also not less to his own. And she was quaint; she moved curiosity. With
+all her beauty, she never seemed to think of her looks; and with all
+her spirit and sense, she never seemed to talk but when she had
+something to say; while yet, if anything in the conversation deserved
+it, it was worth while to catch the sparkle of Dolly's eye and see her
+face dimple. Nevertheless, she would often sit for a long time silent
+at the table, when others were talking, and remind nobody voluntarily
+of her presence.
+
+Spring had come now, and London was filling; and Lawrence was hoping
+for some gaieties that would draw Dolly out into society,
+notwithstanding his secret confession about ball rooms. He wanted to
+see how she would bear the great world, how she would meet it; but
+still more he hoped to have some chance to make himself of importance
+to her. And then the doctors decided that Mrs. Copley must go into the
+country.
+
+What was to be done? Mr. Copley could not quit London without giving up
+his office. To any distance Mrs. Copley could not go without him. The
+dilemma, which Lawrence at first had heard of with dismay, turned for
+his advantage; or he hoped so. His father owned a cottage in a pretty
+part of the country, not a great many miles from London, which cottage
+just then was untenanted. Mr. Copley could run down there any day (so
+could he); and Mrs. Copley would be in excellent air, with beautiful
+surroundings. This plan was agreed to, and Lawrence hurried away to
+make the needful arrangements with his father and at the cottage.
+
+"Oh dear!" said Mrs. Copley, when all this was communicated to
+her,--"why can't we go home?"
+
+"Father is not ready for that, mother," Dolly said somewhat sadly.
+
+"Where is this place you are talking of?"
+
+"Down in Berkshire. Mr. St. Leger says you will be sure to like it."
+
+"Mr. St. Leger doesn't know everything. Is the house furnished?"
+
+"I believe so. Oh, I hope it will be very pleasant, mother dear. It's a
+pretty place; and they say it will be very good for you."
+
+"Who says so?"
+
+"The doctors"
+
+"_They_ don't know everything, either. I tell you what I believe would
+do me good, Dolly, only your father never wants what I want, unless he
+wants it at a different time; I should like to go travelling."
+
+"Travelling!--Where?" Dolly exclaimed and inquired.
+
+"Anywhere. I want a change. I am so tired of London, I could die! I
+have swallowed dust and fog enough to kill me. I should like to go
+where there is no dust. That would be a change. I should like to go to
+Venice."
+
+"Venice! So should I," said Dolly in a changed tone. "Well, mother,
+we'll go down first to this cottage in the country--they say it's
+delightful there;--and then, if it does you good, you'll be well
+enough, and we will coax father to take us to Italy."
+
+"I don't care about Italy. I only want to be quiet in Venice, where
+there are no carts or omnibusses. I don't believe this cottage will do
+me one bit of good."
+
+"Mother, I guess it will. At any rate, I suppose we must try."
+
+"I wish your father could have been contented at home, when he was well
+off. It's very unlucky he ever brought us here. I don't see what is to
+become of you, for my part."
+
+Dolly suppressed a sigh at this point.
+
+"You know what the Bible says, mother. 'All things shall work together
+for good, to them that love God.'"
+
+"I don't want to hear that sort of talk, Dolly."
+
+"Why not, mother?"
+
+"It don't mean anything. I would rather have people show their religion
+in their lives, than hear them talk about it."
+
+"But, mother, isn't there comfort in those words?"
+
+"No. It ain't true."
+
+"O mother! _What_ isn't true?"
+
+"That. There is a difference between things, and there is no use trying
+to make out they're all alike. Sour isn't sweet, and hard ain't soft.
+What's the use of talking as if it was? I always like to look at things
+just as they are."
+
+"But, mother!"--
+
+"Now, don't talk, Dolly, but just tell me. What is the good of my
+getting sick just now? just now, when you ought to be going into
+company? And we have got to give up our house, and you and I go and
+bury ourselves down in some out-of-the-way place, and your father get
+along as he can; and how we shall get along without him to manage, I am
+sure I don't know."
+
+"He will run down to see us often, mother."
+
+"The master's eye wants to be all the while on the spot, if anything is
+to keep straight."
+
+"But this is such a little spot; I think my eye can manage it."
+
+"Then how are you going to take care of me?--if you are overseeing the
+place. And I don't believe my nerves are going to stand it, all alone
+down there. It'll be lonely. I'd rather hear the carts rattle. It's
+dreadful, to hear nothing."
+
+"Well, we will try how it goes, mother; and if it does not go well, we
+will try somewhere else."
+
+The house in town was given up, and Mr. Copley moved into lodgings.
+Some furniture and two servants were sent down to the cottage; but the
+very day when the ladies were to follow, Mr. Copley was taken
+possession of by some really important business. The secretary
+volunteered to supply his place; and in his company Mrs. Copley and
+Dolly made the little journey, one warm summer day.
+
+Dolly had her own causes for anxiety, the weightier that they must be
+kept to herself. Nevertheless, the influence of sweet nature could not
+be withstood. The change from city streets and crowds to the green
+leafiness of June in the country, the quiet of unpaved roads, the
+deliciousness of the air full of scents from woodland and field,
+excited Dolly like champagne. Every nerve thrilled with delight; her
+eyes could not get enough, nor her lungs. And when they arrived at the
+cottage, Brierley Cottage it was called, she was filled with a glad
+surprise. It was no common, close, musty, uncomfortable little
+dwelling; but a roomy old house with plenty of space, dark oak
+wainscotings, casement windows with little diamond panes, and a wide
+porch covered with climbing roses and honeysuckle. These were in
+blossom now, and the air was perfumed with their incomparable
+sweetness. Round the house lay a small garden ground, which having been
+some time without care looked pretty wild.
+
+Dolly uttered her delight as the party entered the porch. Mrs. Copley
+passed on silently, looking at everything with critical eyes.
+
+"What a charming old house, mother! so airy and so old-fashioned, and
+_everything_ so nice."
+
+"I am afraid there is not much furniture in it," remarked the secretary.
+
+"We don't want much, for two people," said Dolly gaily.
+
+"But when your father brings a dinner party down," said Mrs. Copley;
+"how does he suppose we shall manage then? You must have chairs for
+people to sit on."
+
+Dolly did not answer; it had struck her that her father had no
+intention of bringing dinner parties down, and that he had made his
+arrangements with an evident exclusion of any such idea. He had thought
+two women servants enough. For the rest, leaving parties out of
+consideration, the house had a rambling supply of old furniture,
+suiting it well enough; it looked pretty, and quaint, and cool; and
+Dolly for her part was well content.
+
+They went over the place, taking a general survey; and then Mrs. Copley
+lay down on a lounge while supper was getting ready, and Dolly and Mr.
+St. Leger went out to the porch. Here, beyond the roses and
+honeysuckles, the eye found first the wild garden or pleasure ground.
+There was not much of it, and it was a mere tangle of what had once
+been pretty and sweet. It sloped, however, down to a little stream
+which formed the border of the property; and on the other side of this
+stream the ground rose in a grassy bank, set with most magnificent oaks
+and beeches. A little foot-bridge spanned the stream and made a
+picturesque point in the view, as a bridge always does. The sun was
+setting, throwing his light upon that grassy bank and playing in the
+branches of the great oaks and beeches. Dolly stood quite still, with
+her hands crossed upon her bosom, looking.
+
+"The garden has had nothing done to it," said St. Leger. "That won't
+do. It's quite distressing."
+
+"I suppose father never thought of engaging a gardener," said Dolly.
+
+"We have gardeners to spare, I am sure, at home. I'll send over one to
+train those vines and put things in some shape. You'd find him useful,
+too, about the house. I'll send old Peters; he can come as well as not."
+
+"Oh, thank you! But I don't know whether father would choose to afford
+a gardener," said Dolly low.
+
+"He shall not afford it. I want him to come for my own comfort. You do
+not think I want your father to pay my gardener."
+
+"You are very kind. What ground is that over there?"
+
+"That? that is Brierley Park. It is a great place. The stream divides
+the park from this cottage ground."
+
+"Can one go over the bridge?"
+
+"Of course. The place is left to itself; nobody is at the house now."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I suppose they like some other place better," said St. Leger,
+shrugging his shoulders. "You would like to go and see the house and
+the pictures. The next time I come down I'll take you there."
+
+"Oh, thank you! And may I go over among those grand trees? may I walk
+there?"
+
+"Walk there, or ride there; you may do what you like; nobody will
+hinder you. If you meet anybody that has a right to know, you can tell
+him who you are. But don't go to the house till I come to go with you."
+
+"You are very good, Mr. St. Leger," said Dolly gratefully. But then, as
+if shy of what he might next say, she turned and went in to her mother.
+Dolly always kept Mr. St. Leger at a certain fine, insensible distance.
+He seemed to be very near; he was really very much at home in the
+family; nevertheless, an atmospheric wall, felt but not seen, divided
+him from Dolly. It was so invisible that it was unmanageable; it kept
+him at a distance.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+IN THE PARK.
+
+The next day was a delightful one in Dolly's experience. Mr. St. Leger
+went back to town early in the morning; and as soon as she was free of
+him, Dolly's delight began. She attended to her mother, and put her in
+comfort; next, she examined the house and its capabilities, and
+arranged the little household; and then she gave herself to the garden.
+It was an unmitigated wilderness. The roses had grown into irregular,
+wide-spreading shrubs, with waving, flaunting branches; yet sweet with
+their burden of blushing flowers. Lilac bushes had passed all bounds,
+and took up room most graspingly. Hawthorn and eglantine, roses of
+Sharon and stocky syringas, and other bushes and climbers, had entwined
+and confused their sprays and branches, till in places they formed an
+impenetrable mass. In other places, and even in the midst of this
+overgrown thicket, jessamine stars peeped out, lilies and violets grew
+half smothered, mignonette ran along where it could; even carnations
+and pinks were to be seen, in unhappy situations, and daisies and
+larkspur and scarlet geraniums, lupins and sweet peas, and I know not
+what more old-fashioned flowers, showed their fair faces here and
+there. It was bewildering, and beyond Dolly's powers to put in order.
+She wished for old Peter's arrival; and meantime cut and trimmed a
+little here and there, gathered a nosegay of wildering blossoms,
+considered what might be done, and lost herself in the sweet June day.
+
+At last it was growing near lunch time, and she went in. Mrs. Copley
+was lying on an old-fashioned lounge; and the room where she lay was
+brown with old oak, quaint with its diamond-paned casement windows, and
+cool with a general effect of wooden floor and little furniture; while
+roses looked in at the open window, and the light was tempered by the
+dark panelling and low ceiling. Dolly gave an exclamation of delight.
+
+"What is it?" said Mrs. Copley fretfully.
+
+"Mother, this place is so lovely! and this room,--do you know how
+perfectly pretty it is?"
+
+"It isn't half furnished. Not half."
+
+"But it is furnished enough. There are only two of us; and certainly
+here are all the things that we want, and a great deal more than we
+want; and it is so pretty! so pretty!"
+
+"How long do you suppose there are to be only two of us?"
+
+"I don't know that, mother. Lawrence St. Leger is just gone, and I
+don't want him back, for my part. In fact, I don't believe we have
+dinner enough for three."
+
+"That's another thing. Where are we going to get anything to eat?"
+
+"Lunch will be ready in a minute, mother."
+
+"What have we got?"
+
+"What you like. Frizzled beef and chocolate."
+
+"I like it,--but I don't suppose it is very nourishing. Where are we to
+get what we want, Dolly? how are we to get bread, and butter, and
+marketing?"
+
+"There's a village half a mile off. And, here is lunch on the table. We
+shall not starve to-day."
+
+Mrs. Copley liked her chocolate and found the bread good. Nevertheless,
+she presently began again.
+
+"Are we to live here alone the rest of our lives, Dolly? or what do you
+suppose your father's idea is? It's a very lonesome place, seems to me."
+
+"Why, mother, we came here to get you well; and it's enough to make
+anybody well. It is the loveliest place I have ever seen, I think. Mr.
+St. Leger's grand establishment is nothing to it."
+
+"And what do you mean by what you said about Lawrence St. Leger? Are
+you glad to have even _him_ go away?"
+
+"Yes, mother, a little bit. He was rather in my way."
+
+"In your way! that's very ungrateful. How was he in your way?"
+
+"Somebody to attend to, and somebody to attend to me. I like to be let
+alone. By and by, when you are sleeping, I shall go over and explore
+the park."
+
+"What I don't understand," said Mrs. Copley, recurring to her former
+theme, "is, why, if he wanted me to be in the country, your father did
+not take a nice house somewhere just a little way out of London,--there
+are plenty of such places,--and have things handsome; so that he could
+entertain company, and we could see somebody. We can have nobody here.
+It looks really quite like poor people."
+
+"That isn't a very bad way to look," said Dolly calmly.
+
+"_Not?_ Like poor people?" cried Mrs. Copley. "Dolly, don't talk folly.
+Nobody likes that look, and you don't, either."
+
+"I am not particularly afraid of it. But, mother, we do not want to
+entertain company while you are not well, you know."
+
+"No; and so here you are shut up and seeing no creature. I wish we were
+at home!"
+
+Dolly did not precisely wish that; not at least till she had had time
+to examine this new leaf of nature's book opened to her. And yet she
+sighed a response to her mother's words. It was all the response she
+made.
+
+She was too tired with her unwonted gardening exertions to go further
+exploring that afternoon. It was not till a day or two later, when
+Dolly had become somewhat more acquainted with her new life and its
+conditions, that she crossed the bridge one fair, warm June evening,
+and set her hesitating steps upon what seemed to her a wonderful piece
+of ground. She entered it immediately upon crossing the bridge. The
+green glades of the park woods were before her; the old giants of the
+park trees stretched their great arms over her and shadowed her
+footsteps. Such mighty trees! their great stems stood as if they had
+been there for ever; the leafy crown of their heads was more majestic
+than any king's diadem, and gave its protecting shelter, each of them,
+to a wide domain of earth's minor growths. Underneath their branches
+the turf was all green and gold, for the slant sun rays came in there
+and gold was in the tree tops, some of the same gold; and the green
+shadows and the golden bands and flecks of light were all still. There
+was no stir of air that evening. Silence, the stillness and solitude of
+a woodland, were all around; the only house visible from here was the
+cottage Dolly had just quitted, with its rose-covered porch.
+
+Dolly went a little way, and stood still to look and listen, then went
+on a few steps more. The scene had a sort of regal beauty, not like
+anything she had ever known in her life before, and belonging to
+something her life had never touched. For this was not a primeval
+forest; it was not forest at all; it was a lordly pleasure ground. A
+"pleasaunee," for somebody's delight; kept so. There was no ragged
+underbrush; there were no wildering bushes and briars; the green turf
+swept away out of sight under the great old trees clean and soft; and
+they, the oaks and beeches, stretching their arms abroad and standing
+in still beauty and majesty, seemed to say--"Yes, we belong to the
+family; we have stood by it for ages." Dolly could see no dead trees,
+nor fallen lumber of dry branches; the place was dressed, yet
+unadorned, except by its own magnificent features; so most simple, most
+lordly. The first impression almost took away Dolly's breath. She again
+went on, and again stood still, then went further; at last could go no
+further, and she sat down on the bank under the shadow of a great oak
+tree which had certainly seen centuries, and gave herself up to the
+scene and her thoughts. They did not fit, somehow, and took possession
+of her alternately. Sometimes her eyes filled with glad tears, at the
+wonderful loveliness and stateliness of nature around her; the sense of
+beauty overcame all other feelings; filling and satisfying and also
+concealing a certain promise. It was certainly the will of the Creator
+that all things should be thus perfect, harmonious, and fair. What was
+not, could be made so. But then again a shadow would come over this
+sunshine, as Dolly remembered the anxieties she had brought from home
+with her. She had meant to let herself look at them here, in solitude
+and quiet; could she do it, now she was here? But when, if not now?
+Gradually Dolly gave herself up to thinking, and forgot where she was,
+or more correctly, saw the objects around her only through a veil of
+her own thoughts.
+
+She had several anxieties; she was obliged to confess it to herself
+unwillingly; for indeed anxiety was so new to Dolly that she had hardly
+entertained it in all her life before; and when it had knocked at her
+door, she had answered that it came to the wrong place. However, she
+could not but hear and heed the knock now; and she wanted to consider
+the matter calmly and see whether the unwelcome visitor must be really
+taken in, and lodged.
+
+It was not her mother's condition. With the buoyancy of youth, and the
+inexperience, Dolly expected that Mrs. Copley would soon get well. Her
+trouble was about her father; and the worst thing about her mother's
+state of nervous weakness was, that she could not talk to her on the
+subject or get her help and co-operation. That is, if anything were to
+be attempted to be done in the matter.--That was another question she
+wanted to consider.
+
+In the first place, she could not help seeing one thing; that Mr.
+Copley was not flush with money as he used to be; as he had always
+been, ever since Dolly could remember. It was wholly unlike him, to
+send her and her mother down to this cottage with a household of two
+women servants; barely enough for the work that was indispensably
+necessary. Evidently, Mr. Copley entertained no idea of showing
+hospitality here in the country, and Dolly thought he had been secretly
+glad to be relieved of the necessity of doing it in town. Very unlike
+him. It was unlike him, too, to content his pride with so meagre an
+establishment. Mr. Copley loved to handle money, always spent it with a
+lavish carelessness, and was rather fond of display. What had made this
+change? Dolly had felt the change in still other and lesser things.
+Money had not been immediately forthcoming when she asked for it lately
+to pay her mantua maker's bill; and she had noticed on several
+occasions that her father had taken a 'bus instead of a hansom, or even
+had chosen to walk. A dull doubt had been creeping over her, which now
+was no longer obscure, but plainly enough revealed; her father had lost
+money. How, and where?
+
+Impossible to answer this question. But at the same time there floated
+before Dolly's mind two vague images; Epsom and betting,--and a green
+whist table at Mr. St. Leger's, with eager busy players seated round
+it. True, the Derby came but once a year; and true, she had always
+heard that whist was a very gentlemanly game and much money never lost
+at it. She repeated those facts to herself, over and over. Yet the
+images remained; they came before her again and again; her father
+betting eagerly in the crowd of betters on the race course, and the
+same beloved figure handling the cards opposite to his friend the
+banker, at the hospitable mansion of the latter. Who should be her
+guaranty, that a taste once formed, though so respectably, might not be
+indulged in other ways and companies not so irreproachable? The more
+Dolly allowed herself to think of it, the more the pain at her heart
+bit her. And another fear came to help the former, its fit and
+appropriate congener. With the image of Mr. St. Leger and his cards,
+rose up also the memory of Mr. St. Leger's decanters; and Dolly lowered
+her head once in a convulsion of fear. She found she could not bear the
+course of her thought; it must be interrupted; and she sprang up and
+hurried on up the bank under the great trees, telling herself that it
+was impossible; that anything so terrible could not happen to her; it
+was not to be even so much as thought of. She cast it away from her,
+and resolved that it could not be. As to the rest, she thought, poverty
+is not disgrace; she would not break her heart about _that_ till she
+knew there was more reason.
+
+So with flying foot she hastened forward, willing to put a forcible
+stop to thought by her quick motion and the new succession of objects
+before her eyes. Yet they were not very new for a while. The ground
+became level and the going grew easier; otherwise it was the same
+lovely park ground, the same wilderness of noble trees, a renewal of
+the same woodland views. Lovely green alleys or glades opened to right
+and left, bidding her to enter them; then as she went on the trees
+stood thicker again. The sun getting more low sent his beams more
+slant, gilding the sides of the great trunks, tipping the ends of
+branches with leafy glitter, laying lovely lines of light over the
+turf. Dolly wandered on and on, allured by the continual change and
+variety of lovely combination in which grass, trees, and sunlight
+played before her eyes. But after a while the beauty took a different
+cast. The old oaks and beeches ceased; she found herself among a
+lighter growth, of much younger trees, some of them very ornamental,
+and in the great diversity of kinds showing that they were a modern
+plantation. What a plantation it was! for Dolly could not seem to get
+to the end of it. She went fast; the afternoon was passing, and she was
+curious to see what would succeed to this young wood; though it is
+hardly right to call it a wood; the trees were not close to each other,
+but stood apart to give every one a fair chance for developing its own
+peculiar manner of growth. Some had reached a height and breadth of
+beauty already; some could be only beautiful at every stage of growth;
+very many of them were quite strange to Dolly; they were foreign trees,
+gathered from many quarters. She went on, until she began to think she
+must give it up and turn back; she was by this time far from home; but
+just then she saw that the plantation was coming to an end on that
+side; light was breaking through the branches. She pressed forward
+eagerly a few steps; and on a sudden stood still, almost with a cry of
+delight. The plantation did end there abruptly, and at the edge of it
+began a great stretch of level green, just spotted here and there with
+magnificent trees, singly or in groups. And at the further edge of this
+green plain, dressed, not hidden, by these intervening trees, rose a
+most beautiful building. It seemed to Dolly like a castle in a fairy
+tale, so bewitchingly lovely and stately it stood there, with the
+evening sunlight playing upon its turrets, and battlements, and all
+that grand sweep of lawn lying at its feet. This must be the "house" of
+which Lawrence had spoken; but surely it was rather a castle. The style
+was Gothic; the building stretched along the ground to a lordly extent
+for a "house," and yet in the light grace and adornment of its
+structure it hardly looked like anything so grim as a castle. The
+stillness was utter; some cattle under the trees on the lawn were the
+only living things to be seen.
+
+Dolly could not satisfy herself with looking. This was something that
+she had read about and heard about; a real English baronial residence.
+But was it reality? it was so graceful, so noble, so wonderful. She
+must go a little nearer. Yet it was a good while before she could make
+up her mind to leave the spot where this exquisite view had first
+opened to her. She advanced then upon the lawn, going towards the house
+and scarce taking her eyes from it. There were no paths cut anywhere;
+it was no loss, for the greensward here was the perfection of English
+turf; soft and fine and thick and even. It was a pleasure to step on
+it; and Dolly stepped along, in a maze, caught in the meshes of the
+beauty around her, and giving herself up to it in willing captivity.
+But the lawn was enormously wider than she had supposed; her eye had
+not been able to measure distances on this green level; she had walked
+already a long way by the time she had got one-third of its breadth
+behind her. Still, Dolly did not much consider that; her eye was fixed
+on the house as she now drew nearer to it, busied in picking out the
+details; and she only now and then cast a glance to right or left of
+her, and never looked back. It did occur to her at last that she
+herself was like a mere little speck cast away in this ocean of green,
+toiling over it like an ant over a floor; and she hurried her steps,
+though she was beginning to be tired. Slowly, slowly she went; half of
+the breadth of lawn was behind her, and then three quarters; and the
+building was unfolding at least its external organisation to her
+curious eyes, and displaying some of its fine memberment and broken
+surface and the resulting lights and shadows. Dolly almost forgot her
+toil, wondering and delighted; though beginning also to question dimly
+with herself how she was ever to find her way home! Go back over all
+that ground she could not, she knew; as little could she have told
+where was the point at the edge of the lawn by which she had entered
+upon it. _That_ way she could not go; she had a notion that at the
+house, or near it, she might find somebody to speak to from whom she
+could get directions as to some other way. So she pressed on, feeding
+her eyes as she approached it upon the details of the house.
+
+When now more than three-fourths of the lawn ground was passed, one of
+Dolly's side glances, intended to catch the beauty of the trees on the
+lawn in their evening illumination, revealed to her a disagreeable
+fact--that, namely, she was looked upon as an intruder by some of the
+cattle; and that in especial a young bull was regarding her with
+serious and ominous bearing and even advancing slowly towards her from
+the group of his companions. It seemed to Dolly not desirable to stand
+the question, and she set off to run; which proceeding, of course,
+confirmed the young bull's suspicions, whatever they were, and he
+followed on a run also. Dolly became aware of this, and now, with all
+the strength of muscle that remained to her, fled towards the house; no
+longer seeing its Gothic mouldings and picturesque lights and shadows,
+only trying very hard to get near. She thought perhaps the creature
+would be shy of the immediate neighbourhood of the house, and not
+choose to follow her so far. But just as she reached that desirable
+vicinity she longed for, she was met by another danger, coming from the
+quarter from whence she sought safety. An enormous staghound dashed out
+from his covert somewhere, with an utterance from his deep throat which
+sounded sufficiently awful to Dolly, an angry or a warning bay, and
+came springing towards her. Dolly stood still dismayed and uncertain,
+the dog before and the bull behind; then, even before the former could
+reach her, a voice was heard calling him off and directing him to the
+advancing bull. In another minute or two a woman had come over the
+grass and stood at Dolly's side. Dolly was on her feet no longer; with
+the first breath of respite she had sunk down on the grass; nerves and
+muscles all trembling with the exertion and with the fright.
+
+The woman came up with a business air; then as she stood beside Dolly
+her look changed. This was no common intruder, she saw; this
+delicate-featured girl; and her dress too, simple as it was, was the
+dress of a lady. Dolly on her part looked up to a face not
+delicate-featured; far from it; solid and strong built as was the
+person to which it belonged; sense and capacity and kindliness,
+however, were legible even at that first glance.
+
+"You've been rather badly frightened, ma'am, I'm afraid," she said, in
+a voice which precisely matched the face; strong and somewhat harsh,
+but kindly in accent.
+
+"Very," said Dolly, whose face began to dimple now. "I am so much
+obliged to you!"
+
+"Not in the vary least, ma'am. But you are worried with the fright, I
+fear?"
+
+"No; I'll get up," said Dolly; "I'm only tired. I believe I'm a little
+weak too. I haven't quite got over trembling, I find."
+
+"You haven't your colour yet again, ma'am. Would you come into my room
+and rest a bit?"
+
+"Oh, thank you. You are very kind!" said Dolly with sincere delight at
+this proposition. For now she was upon her feet she felt that her knees
+trembled under her, and her footsteps were unsteady as she followed the
+woman over the grass. They went towards a small door in the long line
+of the building, the staghound coming back from his chase and attending
+them gravely. The woman opened the door, led Dolly through a passage or
+two, and ushered her into a cosy little sitting-room, neat as wax,
+nicely though plainly furnished. Here she begged Dolly to rest herself
+on the sofa; and while Dolly did so she stood considering her with a
+kindly, anxious face.
+
+"I'm all right now," said Dolly, smiling.
+
+"I beg your pardon, ma'am, but you're growing paler every minute. If
+you'll allow me, ma'am, I will fetch you a glass of wine."
+
+"Wine? Oh, no," said Dolly. "I don't want any wine. I do not drink
+wine. I am just tired. If you'll let me rest here a few minutes"----
+
+"Lie still, ma'am, and don't talk."
+
+She left the room, and Dolly lay still, with shut eyes, feeling very
+much exhausted. It was inexpressibly good to be under shelter and on
+her back; how she was to get home she could not yet consider. Before
+that question fairly came up, her entertainer was back again; but Dolly
+kept her eyes shut. If she opened them, perhaps she would have to talk;
+and she wanted nothing on earth at that moment but to be still.
+
+After a little interval, however, she heard the door open and a second
+person enter; and curiosity brought her eyes open then. The second
+person was a maid-servant with a tray. The tray was set upon a table,
+and Dolly heard the other woman say--
+
+"You'll bring the tea, Kitty, when I ring."
+
+Dolly took this as a signal that she must go; of course she was in the
+way; yet rest felt so very comfortable, that for a moment she still lay
+where she was; and lying there, she gave her hostess a more critical
+examination than she had hitherto bestowed on her. Who could she be?
+She was very well, that is very respectably, dressed; her manner and
+bearing were those of a person in authority; she was at home; but with
+gentle or noble blood she could have no connection unless one of
+service. Her features and her manner proved that. Nevertheless, both
+her face and bearing had a certain attraction for Dolly; a certain
+quiet and poise, an expression of acute intelligence and efficient
+activity, flavoured with good will, which was all very pleasant to see.
+Evidently she was not a person to be imposed upon. Dolly raised herself
+up at last to a sitting posture, preparatory to going.
+
+"Are you recovered enough to be up, ma'am?" her hostess asked, standing
+still to survey her in her turn. "I'm afraid not."
+
+"Oh, thank you, yes; I must go home. And I must ask you kindly to
+direct me; for I do not in the least know the way."
+
+"Have you come far, ma'am? I couldn't make out by what direction it was
+or could have been; for when I saw you first, you seemed to be coming
+right from the middle of the lawn."
+
+"Not quite that; but a little one side of the middle I did cross the
+lawn."
+
+"I do not know, ma'am, anybody that lives in that direction, nor any
+village."
+
+"Brierley Cottage? You know Brierley Cottage?"
+
+"I ask your pardon, ma'am; I thought that was standing empty for
+months."
+
+"It was, I suppose. We have just moved in. My mother wants country air,
+and Mr. St. Leger has let us the cottage. My mother and I are living
+there, and we came only a day or two ago. I wanted to see the beautiful
+ground and trees on this side the brook, and came over the bridge. I
+did not mean to have come so far; I had no notion of seeing the house
+or getting near it; but everything was so beautiful, I was drawn on
+from one point to another, till I found myself at the edge of the lawn.
+And then I saw the cattle, but I never thought of them."
+
+"Why, ma'am," said the woman, looking surprised, "you must have walked
+a good bit. You must have come all through the plantations."
+
+"I should not have minded the walk so much, if I had not had the fright
+at the end of it. But now the thing is, to get home. Can you tell me
+which way? for I am completely out of my reckoning."
+
+"You will take a cup of tea first, ma'am," said the woman, ringing the
+bell. "I had it made on purpose for you. I am sure you'll be the better
+for it. I am the housekeeper here, ma'am, and my name is Jersey."
+
+"The housekeeper?" said Dolly. "I thought the family were abroad."
+
+"So they are, ma'am; and to be sure that makes me less to do; but
+enough still to take care of the place. Put the table up by the sofa,
+Kitty."
+
+The girl had brought in the tea-pot, and Dolly saw some magnificent
+strawberries on the board. The table was shoved up, a cup of tea poured
+out, and Mrs. Jersey cut bread and butter.
+
+"How kind you are!" Dolly cried. "You are taking a great deal of
+trouble for me; a stranger."
+
+"Is it for somebody that loves my Master?" said Mrs. Jersey, looking at
+her with keen eyes.
+
+Dolly's face dimpled all up at this, which would have completed her
+conquest of Mrs. Jersey's heart, if there had been by this time any
+ground in that region not already subjected.
+
+"Your Master?" she said. "You mean--?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am, I mean that. My Master is the Lord Jesus Christ; no other.
+One cannot have two masters; and I serve Lord Brierley only under Him."
+
+"And what made you think--how did you know--that I am His servant too?"
+
+"I don't know, ma'am," said the housekeeper, smiling. "I guessed it
+when I saw you sitting on the grass there. It seems to me, if the Lord
+don't just yet write His name in their foreheads, He does put a letter
+or two of it there, so one can tell."
+
+"I am very glad to find I have a friend in the neighbourhood," said
+Dolly. "I am Dolly Copley; my father is American Consul at London, and
+a friend of Mr. St. Leger."
+
+"I know Mr. St. Leger, ma'am; by name, that is."
+
+By this time Dolly's tea was poured out. The housekeeper served her,
+and watched her as she drank it and eat her strawberries, both of which
+were refreshing to Dolly.
+
+"I think, ma'am, if you'll allow me to say it, you should not try your
+strength with quite such long walks."
+
+"I did not mean it. I was drawn on; and when I got a sight of the house
+from the other side of the lawn, I wanted to look at it nearer. I had
+no notion the distance was so much."
+
+"Ay, ma'am, it's a good bit across the lawn. Perhaps you would like to
+come another day and see the house inside. I would show it to you with
+pleasure."
+
+"Oh, may I?" said Dolly. "I should like it; oh, very much! But you are
+extremely kind, Mrs. Jersey!"
+
+"It is only what I do for a great many indifferent people, ma'am. I
+would think it a privilege to do it for you. My lord and lady being
+away, I have plenty of time on my hands."
+
+"I wonder anybody can stay away from so beautiful a home."
+
+"They have no choice, ma'am; at least so the doctors say. Lady Brierley
+is delicate, and the air of England does not agree with her."
+
+"And she must be banished from her own home!" said Dolly, looking out
+into the lovely landscape visible from the window. "How sad that is!"
+
+"There's only one home one can always keep, ma'am," said the
+housekeeper, watching her.
+
+"Heaven, you mean?"
+
+"We are not in heaven yet. I meant what David says, 'Lord, thou hast
+been our dwelling-place in all generations.'"
+
+"I am not sure I understand it."
+
+"Only love does understand it, ma'am."
+
+"How do you mean, please?"
+
+"Ma'am, it is only love that can live in the life of another; and when
+that other is God, one lives in a secure and wealthy abode. And then it
+does not much matter where one's body is. At least, so I find it."
+
+Dolly looked very thoughtful for a minute; then she rose up.
+
+"I am coming again," she said; "I am coming very soon, Mrs. Jersey.
+Now, will you tell me how I can get home? I must be as quick as I can."
+
+"That is provided for, ma'am," said Mrs. Jersey. "It's a longish way
+round by the road, farther than even you came this afternoon; and
+you're not fit for it; far from it, I should say. I have ordered the
+dog-cart to take you home; and it's ready."
+
+"How could you be so kind to a stranger?" said Dolly, giving her hand.
+But the housekeeper smiled.
+
+"You're no stranger to me, ma'am," she said, clasping the hand Dolly
+had given. "It is true I never saw you before; but whenever I see one
+of my Lord's children, I say to myself, 'Jersey, there is another of
+the family, and the Lord expects you to do what you can for him, or for
+her, as the case may be.'"
+
+Dolly laughed and ran away. The adventure was taking beautiful shape.
+Here she was to have a charming drive home, to end the day; a drive
+through the pretty country lanes. And they were charming in the evening
+light. And the dog-cart did not bring her to Brierley Cottage a bit too
+soon; for Mrs. Copley was already fidgeting about her.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+THE HOUSE.
+
+Dolly did not tell all her experiences of that afternoon. She told only
+so much as might serve to quiet and amuse her mother; for Mrs. Copley
+took all occasions of trouble that came in her way, and invented a few
+more. Mrs. Jersey had sent along in the dog-cart a basket of
+strawberries for the sick lady; so Dolly hoped her mother's impressions
+of this day at least would be favourable.
+
+"Did you ever see such magnificent berries, mother? black and red?"
+
+"Why haven't we berries in our garden?" Mrs. Copley returned.
+
+"Mother, you know the garden has not been kept up; nobody has been
+living here lately."
+
+"Then why did not your father get some other house, where the garden
+_had_ been kept up, and we could have our own fruit and vegetables? I
+think, to be in the country and not have one's own garden and fresh
+things, is forlorn."
+
+"There is one thing, mother; there are plenty of markets in this
+country."
+
+"And plenty of high prices for everything in them. Yes, if you have no
+end to your purse, you can buy things, certainly. But to look at what
+is around us here, one would think your father didn't mean us to have
+much of anything!"
+
+"Mother, he means you to have all you want. We thought you just wanted
+country air."
+
+"And nothing to eat?"
+
+"We are not starving _yet_," said Dolly, smiling, and arranging the
+strawberries.
+
+"These are a gift. A gift I shouldn't think your father would like to
+take, or have us take, which comes to the same thing. We used to have
+enough for ourselves and our neighbours too, once, when we were at
+home, in America. We are nobody here."
+
+"We are just ourselves, mother; what we always were. It does not make
+much difference what people think of us."
+
+"Not much difference," cried Mrs. Copley, "about what people think of
+you! And then, what is to become of you, I should like to know? Nobody
+seeing you, and no chance for anything! I wonder if your father means
+you never to be married?"
+
+"You do not want me married, mother; and not to an Englishman, anyhow."
+
+"Why not? And how are you going to marry anybody else, out here? Can
+you tell me? But, O Dolly! I am tormented to death!"
+
+"Don't, dear mother. That is what makes you ill. What is the matter?
+What troubles you?"
+
+Mrs. Copley did not answer at once.
+
+"You are as sweet as a honeysuckle," she said. "And to think that
+nobody should see you!"
+
+Dolly's dimples came out here strong.
+
+"Are you tormented to death about that?"
+
+Another pause came, and Mrs. Copley finally left the table with the air
+of one who is thinking what she will not speak. She went to the
+honeysuckle porch and sat down, resting her head in her hand and
+surveying the landscape. Twilight was falling over it now, soft and
+dewy.
+
+"I don't see a sign of anything human, anywhere," she remarked. "Is it
+because it is so dark?"
+
+"No, mother; there are no houses in sight."
+
+"Nor from the back windows?"
+
+"No, mother."
+
+"Where is the village you talk about?"
+
+"Half a mile away; the woods and rising ground of Brierley Park hide it
+from us."
+
+"And in this wilderness your father expects me to get well!"
+
+"Why, I think it is charming!" Dolly cried. "My drive home to-night was
+perfectly lovely, mother."
+
+"I didn't have it."
+
+"No, of course; but the country is exceedingly pretty."
+
+"I can't make your father out."
+
+Dolly was hushed here. She was at a loss likewise on this point.
+
+"He acts just as if he had lost his money."
+
+Dolly did not know what to say. She had had the same impression. To her
+inexperience, this did not seem the first of evils; but she guessed it
+would wear another face to her mother.
+
+"And if he _has_," Mrs. Copley went on, "I am sure I wish we were at
+home. England is no sort of a place for poor folks."
+
+"Why should you think he has, mother?"
+
+"I _don't_ think he has," Mrs. Copley flamed out. "But if he hasn't, I
+think he has lost his wits."
+
+"That would be worse," said Dolly, smiling, though she felt anything
+but merry.
+
+"I don't know about that. Nobody'll ask about your wits, if you've got
+money; and if you _haven't_, Dolly, nobody'll care what else you have."
+
+"Mother, I think it is good to have one's treasure where one cannot
+lose it."
+
+"I thought I had that when I married your father," said Mrs. Copley,
+beginning to cry. This was a very strange thing to Dolly and very
+terrible. Her mother's nerves, if irritable, had always been wont to
+show themselves of the soundest. Dolly saw it was not all nerves; that
+she was troubled by some unspoken cause of anxiety; and she herself
+underwent nameless pangs of fear at this corroboration of her own
+doubts, while she was soothing and caressing and arguing her mother
+into confidence again. The success was only partial, and both of them
+carried careful hearts to bed.
+
+A day or two more passed without any variation in the state of things;
+except that old Peters the gardener made his appearance, and began to
+reduce the wilderness outside to some order. Dolly spent a good deal of
+time in the garden with him; tying up rose trees, taking counsel, even
+pulling up weeds and setting plants. That was outside refreshment;
+within, things were unchanged. Mr. Copley wrote that he would run down
+Saturday, or, if he could not, he would send Lawrence. "Why shouldn't
+he come himself?" said Mrs. Copley; and, Why should he send Lawrence?
+thought Dolly. She liked it better without him. She was pleasing
+herself in her garden; finding little ways of activity that delighted
+her in and out of the house; getting wonted; and she did not care for
+the constraint of anybody's presence who must be treated as company.
+One thing she determined upon, however; Lawrence should not make the
+next visit with her at Brierley House; and to prevent it, she would go
+at once by herself.
+
+She went that afternoon, and by an easier way of approach to the place.
+Mrs. Jersey was very glad to see her, and as soon as Dolly was rested a
+little, entered upon the fulfilment of her promise to show the house.
+Accordingly she took her visitor round to the principal entrance, in
+another side of the building from the one Dolly had first seen. Here,
+before she would go in, she stood to admire and wonder at the rich and
+noble effect; the beauty of turrets, oriels, mouldings, and arched
+windows, the wide and lofty pile which stretched away on two sides in
+such lordly lines. Mrs. Jersey told her who was the first builder; who
+had made this and that extension and addition; and then they went in.
+And the first impression here was a contrast.
+
+The place was a great hall of grand proportions. There was nothing
+splendid here to be seen; neither furniture nor workmanship called for
+admiration, unless by their simplicity. There were some old paintings
+on the walls; there were some fine stags' horns, very large and very
+old; there were some heavy oaken settles and big chairs, on which the
+family arms were painted; the arms of the first builder; and there were
+also, what looked very odd to Dolly, a number of leather fire buckets,
+painted in like manner. Yet simple as the room was, it had a great
+charm for her. It was lofty, calm, imposing, superb. She was not ready
+soon to quit it; and Mrs. Jersey, of course, was willing to indulge her.
+
+"It is so unlike anything at home!" Dolly exclaimed.
+
+"That's in America?" said the housekeeper. "Have you no old houses like
+this there, ma'am?"
+
+"Why, we are not old ourselves," said Dolly. "When this house was first
+begun to be built, our country was full of red Indians."
+
+"Is it possible! And are there Indians there yet, ma'am?"
+
+"No. Oh, yes, in the country, there are; but they are driven far
+off,--to the west--what there are of them.--This is very beautiful!"
+
+"I never heard anybody call this old hall beautiful before," said the
+housekeeper, smiling.
+
+"It is so large, and high, and so simple; and these old time things
+make it so respectable," said Dolly.
+
+"Respectable! yes, ma'am, it is that. Shall we go on and see something
+better?"
+
+But her young visitor had fallen to studying the ceiling, which had
+curious carvings and panellings, and paintings which once had been
+bright. There was such a flavour of past ages in the place, that
+Dolly's fancy was all alive and excited. Mrs. Jersey waited, watching
+her, smiling in a satisfied manner; and then, after a while, when Dolly
+would let her, she opened the door into another apartment. A great door
+of carved oak it was, through which Dolly went expectantly, and then
+stood still with a little cry. The first thing she saw was the great
+windows, down to the floor, all along one side of a large room, through
+which a view was given into the park landscape. The grand trees, the
+beautiful green turf, the sunlight and shadow, caught her eye for a
+minute; and then it came back to the view within the windows. Opposite
+this row of windows was an enormous marble chimney-piece; the family
+arms, which Dolly was getting to know, blazoned upon it in brilliant
+colours. Right and left of the fireplace hung old family portraits. But
+when Dolly turned next to give a look at the side of the hall from
+which she had entered, she found that the whole wall was of a piece
+with the great carved door; it was filled with carvings, figures in
+high relief, very richly executed. For a long while Dolly studied these
+figures. Mrs. Jersey could give her little help in understanding them,
+but having, as she fancied, got hold of a clue, Dolly pursued it;
+admiring the life and expression in the figures, and the richly-carved
+accessories. The whole hall was a study to her. On the further side
+went up the staircases leading to the next story. Between them opened
+the entrance into the dining-hall.
+
+Further than these three halls, Mrs. Jersey almost despaired of getting
+Dolly that day. In the dining-hall was a portrait of Queen Elizabeth;
+and before it Dolly sat down, and studied it.
+
+"Did she look like that?" she said finally.
+
+"Surely, she must," said the housekeeper. "The picture is thought a
+deal of. It was painted by a famous painter, I've been told."
+
+"She was very ugly, then!" said Dolly.
+
+"Handsome is that handsome does," said the housekeeper, smiling; "and,
+to be sure, I never could make out that Her Majesty was altogether
+handsome in her doings; though perhaps that's the fault of my
+stupidity."
+
+"She looks cold," said Dolly; "she looks cruel."
+
+"I'm afraid, by all I have read of her, she was a little of both."
+
+"And how she is dressed!--Who is that, the next to her?"
+
+"Mary Stuart; Mary, Queen of Scotland; this lady's rival."
+
+"Rival?" said Dolly. "No, I do not think she was; only Elizabeth chose
+to think her so. How lovely, how lovely!"
+
+"Yes, and by all accounts the portrait tells truth. They say, so she
+was to be sure."
+
+"She looks so innocent, so sweet," said Dolly, fixed before the two
+pictures.
+
+"Do you think she wasn't?"
+
+"One cannot feel quite comfortable about her. The story is ugly, Mrs.
+Jersey. But how a woman with that face could do anything fearfully
+wicked, it is hard to imagine. Poor thing!"
+
+"You are very kind, I am sure, to a person of whom you hold such a bad
+opinion," said the housekeeper, amused.
+
+"I am sorry for them both," said Dolly. "Life wasn't much good to
+either of them, I should think."
+
+"Queen Elizabeth had power," said Mrs. Jersey; "and Queen Mary had
+admiration, I understand."
+
+"Yes, but Elizabeth wanted the admiration, and Mary Stuart wanted the
+power," said Dolly. "Neither of them got what she wanted."
+
+"Few people do in this world, my young lady."
+
+"Do you think so?"
+
+"Young people generally think they will," said the housekeeper;--"and
+old people know better."
+
+"But why should that be?"
+
+"Does Miss Dolly Copley know already what _she_ wants?" the housekeeper
+asked.
+
+"No," said Dolly, laughing out; "not at all. I do not know what I want.
+I do not think I want anything in particular, Mrs. Jersey."
+
+"Keep so, my dear; that is best."
+
+"Why? Because I should be so sure to be disappointed?"
+
+"You might. But it is safe to let God choose for us, Miss Copley; and
+as soon as we begin to plan, we begin to work for our plans, generally;
+and if our plan is not _His_ plan,--that makes trouble, you see, and
+confusion."
+
+"Of course," said Dolly thoughtfully. "Yet it seems to me it would be
+pleasant to have some particular object that one was striving after.
+The days go by, one after another, one like another, and seem to
+accomplish nothing. I should like to have some purpose, some end in
+life, to be striving for and attaining."
+
+"A servant of Christ need never want that," said the housekeeper.
+
+"I have not anything in special to do," said Dolly, looking at her.
+
+"Every servant has something special to do," the other answered.
+
+"I have to take care of mother. But that is not work; it is not work
+for Christ, at least, Mrs. Jersey."
+
+"Dear, it may be. Everything you do, you may do for Him; for He has
+given it to you to do for Him. That is, unless it is something you are
+choosing for yourself."
+
+Dolly pondered.
+
+"And if there be nothing ready to hand that you call work, there is
+always preparation for work to be done," Mrs. Jersey went on.
+
+"What sort?"
+
+"The knowledge of the Bible,--and the knowledge of Christ, to seek and
+win. That surely."
+
+"The knowledge of the Bible? Mrs. Jersey, I know the Bible pretty well."
+
+"And Christ also?"
+
+Dolly mused again, with a very grave face.
+
+"I do not quite know what you mean."
+
+"Then, there is something to be gained yet."
+
+"But,--of course I know what the Bible says about Him."
+
+"That is one sort of knowledge," said the housekeeper; "but it is not
+the knowledge of Him."
+
+"What then?"
+
+"Only knowing about Him, dear."
+
+"What more can we have?"
+
+"Just _Himself_, Miss Copley; and till you have that, dear, you don't
+rightly know what the Bible means."
+
+"I don't think I quite understand you."
+
+"Suppose I told you all I could about my Lady Brierley; would that make
+you know her as I know her?"
+
+"No, certainly; it would not make me really know her at all."
+
+"That is what I was thinking."
+
+"But for _that_ there must be sight, and intercourse, and the power of
+understanding."
+
+"All that," said Mrs. Jersey, smiling; "and the more of that power you
+speak of, the more and the nearer knowledge there will be."
+
+"But in the case you are speaking of, the knowledge of Christ, sight is
+not possible."
+
+"No, not sight with the bodily eyes. It is not; and if it were, it
+mightn't do. Did all the people know the Lord that saw Him with the
+bodily eyes? 'Ye have neither known My Father nor Me,' He said to the
+Jews. 'Have I been so long time with you, and yet hast thou not known
+Me, Philip?'"
+
+"You are setting me a regular puzzle, Mrs. Jersey."
+
+"I hope not, my dear. I do not mean it; and it is the last thing I
+wish."
+
+"But without sight, how is such knowledge to be gained?"
+
+"Do you remember, Miss Copley, it is written,--'The secret of the Lord
+is with them that fear Him.' And Jesus promised to him that loves Him
+and keeps His commandments, 'I will manifest Myself to him.' Doubtless
+we must seek the fulfilment of the promise too."
+
+"How?"
+
+"The same way as with other things. We must ask, and expect, and use
+the means. And no doubt one must be single-eyed and true-hearted. But
+dear, there is no knowledge like that, once get it; and no friend to be
+had, that can equal the Lord Jesus Christ."
+
+Dolly sat still and pondered, gazing at the two portraits.
+
+"It is very hard to think that this world is nothing!" she said at
+last. "To most people it seems everything. Just look at those two
+faces! How they struggled and fought; and how little good their life
+was to them, after all."
+
+"Ay, and folks can struggle and fight for less things than what divided
+them, and lose all just the same. So the Lord said, 'He that loveth his
+life, shall lose it;' but He said too, 'He that loseth his life for My
+sake, shall find it.'"
+
+"You are talking riddles again, Mrs. Jersey," said Dolly, laughing. "I
+thought I was beginning to understand you; but I do not understand
+that."
+
+"No, dear; and surely it is a hard saying to many. But I'll give you a
+key. Just you give your life to the Lord Jesus, and He will show you
+what the losing it means, and the gaining it, too."
+
+"Thank you. I will," said Dolly.
+
+They went on again after that, through more rooms of the house; but the
+afternoon did not serve for the whole. Dolly must return to her mother.
+Mrs. Jersey sent her home again in the dog-cart. The evening was very
+bright and fair; the hedgerows sweet with flowers; the light glittered
+on the foliage of trees and copsewood and shrubbery; the sky was clear
+and calm. Dolly tasted and rejoiced in it all; and yet in the very
+midst of her pleasure an echo from Mrs. Jersey's words seemed to run
+through everything. It did not depress; on the contrary, it excited
+Dolly. With all the beauty and enjoyment of this very beautiful and
+very enjoyable world, there was something still better to be sought and
+found; somewhat still more beautiful, far more enjoyable; and the
+correlative fact that the search and attainment were, or might be,
+attended with some difficulty and requiring some effort or resolution,
+was simply an additional stimulus. Dolly breathed the air with intense
+taste of it. Yes, she thought, I will seek the knowledge Mrs. Jersey
+spoke of. That must be better than anything else.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+PREACHING AND PRACTICE.
+
+"How long you have stayed, Dolly!" was Mrs. Copley's greeting. "I don't
+see what is to become of me in this lonely place, if you are always
+trotting about. I shall die!"
+
+Dolly took this cold-water bath upon her pleasure with her usual
+sweetness.
+
+"Dear mother, I did not know I was so long away. I will not go again,
+if it is bad for you."
+
+"Of course it is bad for me. It is very bad for me. It is bad for
+anybody. I just think and think, till I am ready to fly.--What have you
+been doing?"
+
+"Looking at Brierley House. So beautiful as it is, mother!"
+
+This made a diversion. Mrs. Copley asked and received a detailed
+account of all Dolly had seen.
+
+"It don't sound as if _I_ should like it," was her comment. "I should
+never have those old chairs and things sticking about."
+
+"O mother! yes, you would; they are most beautiful, and so
+old-fashioned; with the arms of the barons of Coppleby carved on them."
+
+"I shouldn't want the arms of the barons of Coppleby on the chairs in
+my house, if I was the Earl of Brierley."
+
+"But they are everywhere, mother; they are cut and painted over the
+fireplace in the baron's hall."
+
+"I'd cut 'em out, then, and put up my own. Fire buckets, too! How
+ridiculous. What ornaments for a house!"
+
+"I like them," said Dolly.
+
+"Oh, you like everything. But, Dolly, what does your father think is to
+become of us? He in London, and we here! Such a way of living!"
+
+"But you wanted country air, mother."
+
+"I didn't; not in this way. Air isn't everything. Did he say, if he
+could not come down Saturday, he would send Mr. St. Leger?"
+
+"I do not see why he should," said Dolly gaily. "We don't want him."
+
+"Now, what do you say that for, Dolly?"
+
+"Just because _I_ don't want him, mother. Do you?"
+
+"He's a very good young man."
+
+Dolly was silent.
+
+"And very rich."
+
+Dolly said nothing.
+
+"And I am sure he is very agreeable."
+
+Then, as her utterances still met no response, Mrs. Copley broke out.
+"Dolly, why don't you say something? I have nobody to talk to but you,
+and you don't answer me! I might as well talk to the wall."
+
+"Mother, I would rather have father come down to see us. If the choice
+lies between them, I would rather have father."
+
+Mrs. Copley leaned her head on her hand. "Dolly," she began again,
+"your father acts exactly as if he had lost money."
+
+Dolly again did not answer. The repeated words gave her a very startled
+thrill.
+
+"As if he had lost a good deal of money," Mrs. Copley went on. "I can't
+get it out of my head that he has."
+
+"It's no use to think about it, mother," Dolly said as lightly as she
+could. "Don't you trouble yourself, at any rate."
+
+"That's foolish. How can I help troubling myself? And if it _was_ any
+use to think about it, to be sure I needn't be troubled. Dolly, it
+torments me day and night!" And tears that were bitter came into Mrs.
+Copley's eyes.
+
+"It need not, dear mother. Money is not the only thing in the world;
+nor the best thing."
+
+"And that's silly, too," returned her mother. "One's bread and butter
+may not be the best thing in the world,--I am sure this bread
+ain't,--but you can't live without it. What can you do without money?"
+
+"I never tried, you know," said Dolly; "but I should think it would be
+possible to be happy."
+
+"Like a child!" said her mother. "Children always think so. What's to
+make you happy, when the means are gone? No, Dolly; money is
+everything, in this world. Without it you are of no consequence, and
+you are at everybody's mercy; and I can tell you one thing besides;--if
+the women could be happy without money, the men cannot. If you don't
+give a man a good breakfast, he'll be cross all day; and if his dinner
+don't suit him, you'll hear of it for a week, and he'll go off to the
+club besides."
+
+"He cannot do _that_ without money," said Dolly, trying to laugh.
+
+"Then he'll stay at home, and torment you. I tell you, Dolly, life
+ain't worth having, if you haven't got money. That is why I want you to
+like"---- Mrs. Copley broke off suddenly.
+
+"I should think one might have good breakfasts and dinners even if one
+was poor," said Dolly. "They say French women do."
+
+"What French women do is neither here nor there. I am talking about you
+and me. Look at this bread,--and see that omelette. I can tell you,
+nothing on earth would keep your father down here if he couldn't have
+something better to eat than, that."
+
+Dolly began to ponder the possibility of learning the art of cookery.
+
+"What puzzles me," Mrs. Copley went on, "is, how he _could_ have lost
+money? But I am sure he has. I feel it in all my bones. And he is such
+a clever man about business too!"
+
+Dolly tried with all her might to bring her mother off this theme. At
+last she succeeded; but the question lingered in her own mind and gave
+it a good deal to do.
+
+After a day or two more, Mr. St. Leger came as threatened. Dolly
+received him alone. She was in the garden, gathering roses, at the time
+of his arrival. The young man came up to her, looking very glad and shy
+at once, while Dolly was neither the one nor the other. She was
+attending to the business she had in hand.
+
+"Well, how are you?" said her visitor. "How is Mrs. Copley? Getting
+along, eh?"
+
+"When's father coming down, Mr. St. Leger?"
+
+"To-morrow. He'll come down early, he said."
+
+"Sunday morning?" cried Dolly, and stopped, looking at the young man.
+
+"Oh yes. He'll come down early. He couldn't get off to-night, he told
+me. Some business."
+
+"What business? Anything he could not put off? What kept him, Mr. St.
+Leger?"
+
+"I don't know, 'pon my honour. He'll be down in the morning, though.
+What's the matter? Mrs. Copley isn't worse, I hope?"
+
+"No, I think not," said Dolly, going back to her rose-pulling, with a
+hand that trembled.
+
+"May I help you? What are all these roses for? Why, you've got a lot of
+'em. How do you like Brierley, Miss Dolly? It likes you. I never saw
+you look better. How does your mother fancy it?"
+
+"Mother has taken a fancy to travel. She thinks she would like that
+better than being still in one place."
+
+"Travel! Where to? Where does she want to go?"
+
+"She talks of Venice. But I do not know whether father could leave his
+post."
+
+"I should say he couldn't, without the post leaving him. But, I say,
+Miss Dolly! maybe Mrs. Copley would let me be her travelling-courier,
+instead. I should like that famously. Venice--and we might run down and
+see Rome. Hey? What do you think of it?"
+
+Dolly answered coolly, inwardly resolving she would have no more to say
+about travelling before Mr. St. Leger. However, in the evening he
+brought up the subject himself; and Mrs. Copley and he went into it
+eagerly, and spent a delightful evening over plans for a possible
+journey; talking of routes, and settling upon stopping places. Dolly
+was glad to see her mother pleased and amused, even so; but herself
+took no sort of part in the talk. Next day Mr. Copley in truth arrived,
+and was joyfully received.
+
+
+"Well, how do you do?" said he, after the first rejoicings were over,
+looking from his wife to his daughter and back again. It was the third
+or fourth time he had asked the question. "Pretty jolly, eh? Dolly is.
+_You_ are not, my dear, seems to me."
+
+"You are not either, it seems to me, Mr. Copley."
+
+"I? I am well enough."
+
+"You are not 'jolly,' father?" said Dolly, hanging upon him.
+
+"Why not? Yes, I am. A man can't be very jolly that has anything to do
+in this world."
+
+"O father! I should think, to have nothing to do would be what would
+hinder jolliness."
+
+"Anything to do but enjoy, I mean. I don't mean _nothing_ to do. But it
+ain't life, to live for business."
+
+"Then, if I were you, I would play a little, Mr. Copley," said his wife.
+
+"So I do. Here I am," said he, with what seemed to Dolly forced gaiety.
+"Now, how are you going to help me play?"
+
+"_We_ help _you_," said his wife. "Why didn't you come yesterday?"
+
+"Business, my dear; as I said. These are good berries. Do they grow in
+the garden?"
+
+"How should strawberries grow in a garden where nobody has been
+living?" said his wife. "And what is your idea of play in an
+out-of-the-way place like this, Mr. Copley?"
+
+"Well--not a catechism," said he, slowly putting strawberries in his
+mouth one after the other. "What's the matter with the place? I thought
+it would just suit you. Isn't the air good?"
+
+"Breathing isn't quite the only necessary of life," said his wife; "and
+you were asking about play. I think a change would be play to me."
+
+"Well, this is a change, or I don't know the meaning of the word.
+You've just come, and have not examined the ground yet. Must have a
+good market, if this fruit is any sign."
+
+"There is no market or anything else, except what you can find in a
+little village. The strawberries come from Brierley House, where Dolly
+goes to get _her_ play. As for me, who cannot run about, on my feet, or
+anyway, I sit here and wonder when she will be back again. Are we to
+have no carriage here, Mr. Copley?"
+
+"We had better find out how you like it first, seems to me. Hardly
+worth while, if you're not going to stay."
+
+Mr. Copley rose and sauntered out to the porch, and Dolly looked
+furtively at her mother. She saw a troubled, anxious face, lines of
+nervous unrest; she saw that her father's coming had not brought
+refreshment or relief; and truly she did not perceive why it should.
+Dolly was wholly inexperienced, in all but the butterfly life of very
+happy young years; nevertheless, she could not fail to read, or at
+least half read, some signs of another sort of life. She noticed that
+her father's manner wanted its ordinary careless, confident ease; there
+was something forced about it; his face bore tokens of loss of sleep,
+and had a trait of uneasiness most unwonted in Mr. Copley. Dolly sat
+still a little while, and then went out and joined her father in the
+porch. Mr. St. Leger had come in, so that she did not leave her mother
+alone. Dolly came close and laid her arm round her father's neck, her
+fingers playing with his hair; while he fondly threw one arm about her.
+
+"How is it, Dolly?" he asked. "Don't you like it here?"
+
+"_I_ do, very much. But mother finds it very quiet. I think she would
+like to travel, father."
+
+"Travel! But I can't go travelling. I cannot get away from London for
+more than a day. Quiet! I thought she wanted quiet. I heard of nothing
+but her want of quiet, till I got her down here; and now she wants
+noise."
+
+"Not noise, exactly, but change."
+
+"Well, what is this but change? as I said. I do not know what would
+please her."
+
+"I know what would please me," said Dolly, with her heart beating; for
+she was venturing on unknown ground--"A little money."
+
+"Money!" exclaimed her father. "What in the world do you want with
+money down here?"
+
+"To pay the servants, father," Dolly said low. "Margaret asked me for
+her month's wages, and I said I would ask you. Can you give it to me?"
+
+"She cannot do anything with money down here either. She don't want it.
+Her wages are safe, tell her. I'll take care of them for her."
+
+"But, father, if she likes to take care of them for herself, she has
+the right. Such people like to see their money, I suppose."
+
+"I have yet to find the people that don't," said her father. "But,
+really, she'll have to wait, my child. I have not brought so much in my
+pocket-book with me."
+
+This also struck Dolly as very unusual. Never in her life, that she
+could remember, had her father confessed before to an empty purse.
+
+"Then, could you send it to me, father, when you go back to London?"
+
+"Yes, I'll send it. Or better, wait till I come down again. You would
+not know how to manage if I sent it. And Margaret really cannot be in a
+hurry."
+
+Dolly stood still, fingering the locks of her father's thick hair,
+while her mental thermometer went down and down. She knew by his whole
+manner that the money was not at hand even were he in London; and where
+then was it? Mr. Copley had always till now had plenty; what had
+happened, or what was the cause of the change? And how far had it gone?
+and to what point might it go? and what should she do, if she could not
+soon pay Margaret? and what would become of her mother, if not only her
+travelling projects were shattered, but also her personal and household
+comforts should fail her where she was? What could Dolly do, to save
+money? or could she in any way touch the source of the evil, and bring
+about an essential bettering of this new and evil state of things? She
+must know more first; and how should she get more knowledge?
+
+There came a sigh to her ears here, which greatly touched her.
+Nevertheless, for the present she could not even show sympathy, for she
+dared not seem aware of the need for it. Tears came to her eyes, but
+she commanded them back; that would not do either.
+
+"Suppose we take a walk, Dolly, in that jolly old wood yonder?" Mr.
+Copley said. "That's Brierley Park, ain't it? We might go and see the
+house, if you like."
+
+"It is Sunday, father."
+
+"Well, what then? The world is pretty much the same thing Sunday that
+it is other days, eh?"
+
+"Yes, father--the world; but not the day. That is not the same as the
+rest."
+
+"Why not? We cannot go to church to-day, if that is what you are
+thinking of. I took church-time to come down here. And if you wanted to
+go to church, Dolly, you couldn't have a finer temple than over yonder."
+
+"Oh, if you'll go to church there, father, I'll go."
+
+"To be sure I will. Get your hat."
+
+"And my Bible?"
+
+"Bible?" Mr. Copley looked at her. "I didn't say anything about a
+Bible. We are going to take a walk. You don't want a book to carry."
+
+"How are we going to church there, then?"
+
+"Think good thoughts, and enjoy the works of the good Creator. That's
+all you can do in any church, Dolly. Come, little Puritan."
+
+Dolly did not quite know what to do; however, she got her hat, finding
+that her mother was willing; and she and her father went down to the
+bridge. There, to her dismay somewhat, they were joined by Mr. St.
+Leger. But not to Mr. Copley's dismay; he welcomed the young man
+openly. Dolly would have gone back now, but she did not dare.
+
+"Going to see the house?" Lawrence asked.
+
+"It is Sunday," said Dolly. "You cannot."
+
+"There's a way of opening doors, even on Sunday," said the other.
+
+"No, not here. The housekeeper will not let you in. She is a Christian."
+
+"She is a Methodist, you mean," said Mr. Copley.
+
+"I believe she is a Methodist. She is a good friend of mine."
+
+"What business have you to make friends with Methodists? we're all good
+Church people; hey, Lawrence? What grand old woods these are!"
+
+"How old do you suppose these trees to be, father?"
+
+"Can't guess; less than centuries would not do. Centuries of being let
+alone! I wonder how men would get on, if they could have as good a
+chance? Glorious! Go on, children, and take your walk; I will lie down
+here and rest. I believe I want that more than walking."
+
+He threw himself down at full length on the turf in the shadow of a
+giant beech. Dolly and her remaining companion passed slowly on. This
+was not what she had reckoned upon; but she saw that her father wished
+to be left alone, and she did not feel, nevertheless, that she could go
+home and leave the party. Slowly she and Mr. St. Leger sauntered on,
+from the shadow of one great tree to another; Dolly thinking what she
+should do. When they were gotten out of sight and out of earshot, she
+too stopped, and sat down on a shady bank which the roots of an immense
+oak had thrown up around its base.
+
+"What now?" said Lawrence.
+
+"This is a good place to stay. Father wishes to be left to himself."
+
+"But aren't you going any further?"
+
+"There is nothing to be gained by going any further. It is as pretty
+here as anywhere in the wood."
+
+"We might go on and see the pheasantry. Have you seen the pheasantry?"
+
+"No."
+
+"That does not depend on the housekeeper's pleasure; and the people on
+the place are not all Methodists. I fancy we should have no trouble in
+getting to see that. Come! It is really very fine, and worth a walk to
+see. I am not much of a place-hunter, but the Brierley pheasantry is
+something by itself."
+
+"Not to-day," said Dolly.
+
+"Why not to-day? I can get the gate opened."
+
+"You forget it is Sunday, Mr. St. Leger."
+
+"I do not forget it," said he, throwing himself down on the bank beside
+her. "I came here to have the day with you. It's a holiday. Mr. Copley
+keeps a fellow awfully busy other days, if one has the good fortune to
+be his secretary. I remember particularly well that it is Sunday. What
+about it? Can't a fellow have it, now he has got it?"
+
+The blue eyes were looking with a surprised sort of complaint in them,
+yet not wholly discontented, at Dolly. How could they be discontented?
+So fair an object to rest upon and so curiosity-provoking too, as she
+was. Dolly's advantages were not decked out at all; she was dressed in
+a simple white gown; and there were none of the formalities of fine
+ladyism about her; a very plain little girl; and yet, Lawrence was not
+far wrong when he thought her the fairest thing his eyes had ever seen.
+_Her_ eyes had such a mingling of the childlike and the wise; her hair
+curled in such an artless, elegant way about her temples and in her
+neck; the neck itself had such a pretty set and carriage, the figure
+was so graceful in its girlish outlines; and above all, her manner had
+such an inexplicable combination of the utterly free and the utterly
+unapproachable. Lawrence lay thinking all this, or part of it; Dolly
+was thinking how she should dispose of him. She could not well say
+anything that would directly seem to condemn her father. And while she
+was thinking what answer she should make, Lawrence had forgot his
+question.
+
+"Do you like this park?" he began on another tack.
+
+"Oh, more than I can tell you! It is perfect. It is magnificent. There
+is nothing like it in all America. At least, _I_ never saw anything
+like it there."
+
+"Why not?" said Lawrence. "I mean, why is there not anything like this
+there?"
+
+Then Dolly's face dimpled all up in one of its expressions of extreme
+sense of fun.
+
+"We are not old enough," she said. "You know when these trees were
+young, our land was filled with the red men, and overgrown with
+forests."
+
+"Well, those forests were old."
+
+"Yes, but in a forest trees do not grow like this. They cannot. And
+then the forest had to be cut down."
+
+"Then you like England better than America?"
+
+"I never saw in my life anything half so beautiful as Brierley Park."
+
+"You would be contented with such a home, wherever it might be?"
+
+"As far as the trees went," said Dolly, with another ripple of fun
+breaking over her face.
+
+"Tell me," said Lawrence, "are all American girls like you?"
+
+"In what way? We do not all look alike."
+
+"No, no; I do not mean looks; they are no more like you in _that_, than
+you say America resembles Brierley Park. But you are not like an
+English girl."
+
+"I am afraid that is not an equal compliment to me. But why should
+Americans be different from English people? We went over from England
+only a little while ago."
+
+"Institutions?" Lawrence ventured.
+
+"What, because we have a President, and you have a King? What
+difference should that make?"
+
+"Then you see no difference? Am I like an American, now?"
+
+"You are not like my father, certainly. But I do not know any American
+young men--except one. And I don't know him."
+
+"That sounds very much like a riddle. Won't you be so good as to
+explain?"
+
+"There is no riddle," said Dolly. "I knew him when I was at school, a
+little girl, and I have never seen him since."
+
+"Then you don't know him now, I should say."
+
+"No. And yet I feel as if I knew him. I should know him if we saw each
+other again."
+
+"Seems to have made a good deal of an impression!"
+
+"Yes, I think he did. I liked him."
+
+"Before you see him again you will have forgotten him," said Lawrence
+comfortably. "Do you not think you could forget America, if somebody
+would make you mistress of such a place as this?"
+
+"And if everybody I loved was here? Perhaps," said Dolly, looking round
+her at the soft swelling green turf over which the trees stretched
+their great branches.
+
+"But," said Lawrence, lying on his elbow and watching her, "would you
+want _everybody_ you love? The Bible says that a woman shall leave
+father and mother and cleave to her husband."
+
+"No; the Bible says that is what the man shall do; leave father and
+mother and cleave unto his wife."
+
+"They work it the other way," said Lawrence. "With us, it is the woman
+who leaves her family to go with the man."
+
+"Mr. St. Leger," said Dolly suddenly, "father does not look well. What
+do you think is the matter with him?"
+
+"Oh--aw--yes! Do you think he doesn't look well?" Lawrence answered
+vaguely.
+
+"Not _ill_--but not just like himself either. What is it?"
+
+"I--well, I have thought that myself sometimes," replied the young man.
+
+"What is the matter with him?" Dolly repeated anxiously.
+
+"Oh, not much, he spends too much time at--at his office, you know!"
+
+"He has no need to do that. He does not want the office--not for the
+money's sake."
+
+"Most men want money," said Lawrence.
+
+"But do you think he does?"
+
+"Oh, why not? Why, _my_ father wants money, always wants money; and yet
+you would say he has enough, too. Dolly"---- She interrupted him.
+
+"But what did you mean? You meant to say he spends too much time at--at
+what? Say what you were going to say."
+
+Lawrence rolled himself over on the bank so that he could look up
+straight into her face. It was a good look of his blue eyes. "Dolly,"
+said he, "if you will leave father and mother for my sake,
+figuratively, I mean,--of course, figuratively,--I will take care that
+neither of them ever wants anything for the rest of their lives. And
+you shall have a place as good as Brierley Park."
+
+Dolly's spirits must have taken one or two quick leaps, for her colour
+changed so; but happily Lawrence's speech was long enough to let her
+get possession of herself again. She answered with an _a plomb_ which,
+born of necessity as it was, and natural, equalled that of the most
+practised fine lady which should show her artificial habit or skill.
+Like an instinct of self-preservation, I suppose; swift in action,
+correct in adjustment, taking its measures with unpremeditated good
+aim. She answered with absolute seeming calmness--
+
+"You evade my question, I observe."
+
+"I am sure you evade mine!" said the young man, much more hotly.
+
+"Perhaps I do. Naturally, I want mine answered first."
+
+"And then will you give me the answer to my question?" said he eagerly.
+
+"That would seem to be no more than good manners."
+
+"What do you want to know, Dolly? I am sure I can't tell what to say to
+you."
+
+"Tell me what makes my father look unlike himself," said Dolly quietly.
+She spoke quietly; not as if she were greatly concerned to know the
+answer; yet if Lawrence had guessed how her heart beat he would have
+had still more difficulty with his reply. He had some, as it was; so
+much that he tried to turn the matter off.
+
+"You are imagining things," he said. "Mr. Copley seems to me very much
+what I have always known him."
+
+"He does not seem to me as _I_ have always known him," said Dolly. "And
+you are not saying what you are thinking, Mr. St. Leger."
+
+"You are terribly sharp!" said he, to gain time.
+
+"That's quite common among American women. Go on, Mr. St. Leger, if you
+please."
+
+"I declare, it's uncanny. I feel as if you could see through me, too.
+And no one will bear such looking into."
+
+"Go on, Mr. St. Leger," Dolly repeated with an air of superiority. Poor
+child, she felt very weak at the time.
+
+"I don't know what to say, 'pon my honour," the young man averred. "I
+have nothing to say, really. And I am afraid of troubling you, besides."
+
+Dolly could _not_ speak now. She preserved her calm air of attention;
+that was all.
+
+"It's really nothing," St. Leger went on; "but I suppose, really, Mr.
+Copley may have lost some money. That's nothing, you know. Every man
+does, now and then. He loses, and then he gains."
+
+"How?" said Dolly gravely.
+
+"Oh, well, there are various ways. Betting, you know, and cards.
+Everybody bets; and of course he can't always win, or betting would
+stop. That's nothing, Miss Copley."
+
+"Have you any idea how much he has lost?"
+
+"Haven't an idea. People don't tell, naturally, how hard they are hit.
+I am sure it is nothing you need be concerned about."
+
+"Are not people often ruined in that way?" Dolly asked, still
+preserving her outside calm.
+
+"Well, that does happen, of course, now and then, with careless people.
+Mr. Copley is not one of that sort. Not that kind of man."
+
+"Do not people grow careless, in the interest and excitement of the
+play?"
+
+St. Leger hesitated, and laughed a little, casting up his blue eyes at
+Dolly as if she were a very peculiar specimen of young womanhood and he
+were not quite sure how to answer her.
+
+"I assure you," he said, "there is nothing that you need be concerned
+about. I am certain there is not."
+
+"Not if my father is concerned about it already?"
+
+"He is not concerned, I am sure. Oh, well! there may be a little
+temporary embarrassment--that can happen to any man, who is not made of
+gold--but it will be all right. Now, Miss Copley"----
+
+She put out her hand to stop him.
+
+"Mr. St. Leger, can you do nothing to help? You are kind, I know; you
+have always been kind to us; can you do nothing to help now?"
+
+The young man rather opened his eyes. Was this asking him for an
+advance? It was a very cool proceeding in that case. "Help?" he
+repeated doubtfully. "What sort?"
+
+"There is only one way that you could help," said Dolly.
+
+He saw she meant what she meant, if he could know what that was; her
+cheeks had even grown pale; the sweet, clear brown eyes sought his face
+as if they would reach his heart, which they did; but then,--to assume
+any of Mr. Copley's responsibilities--
+
+"I'll assume all Mr. Copley's responsibilities, Dolly," he said with
+rash decision--"if you'll smile upon me."
+
+"Assume?--Oh, did you think I meant _that?_" cried Dolly, while a
+furious flush came up into her face. "What a notion you must have of
+Americans, Mr. St. Leger! Do you think father would make over his
+responsibilities to another man? I did not mean anything so impossible
+as that."
+
+"Forgive me Then what did you mean?"
+
+"Perhaps something as impossible," said Dolly sadly, while the flush
+slowly paled. "I meant--couldn't you--could you--I don't know but it is
+just as impossible!"----
+
+"Could I, what? I could do most things, if you wished it, Dolly."
+
+"Then you must not call me that till I give you leave. I was going to
+say, could you perhaps do anything to get my father away from this
+habit, or pleasure"----
+
+"Of betting?"
+
+"Betting--and cards--it's all the same. He never used to do it. Can you
+help, Mr. St. Leger?"
+
+Dolly's face was a sort of a marvel. It was so childlike, it was so
+womanly; it was so innocent, and it was so forceful. Lawrence looked,
+and would have liked to do the impossible; but what could he? It was
+specially at his own father's card-table, he knew, that Mr. Copley had
+lost money; it was wholly in his father's society that he had been
+initiated into the fascination of wagers--and of something else. Could
+he go against his own father? and how could he? and himself a player,
+though a very cautious one, how should he influence another man not to
+play?
+
+"Miss Copley--I am younger than your father"---- Lawrence began.
+
+"I know. But you might speak where I cannot. Or you might do something."
+
+"Mr. Copley only does what my father does, and what everybody does."
+
+"If you were to tell your father,--could not _he_ perhaps stop
+it?--bring my father off the notion?" Dolly had reached the very core
+of the subject now and touched what she wanted to touch; for she had a
+certain assurance in her own mind that her father's intercourse with
+the banker and his circle of friends had led to all this trouble.
+Lawrence pondered, looked serious; and finally promised that he would
+"see what he could do." He would have urged his own question then; but
+to Dolly's great relief Mr. Copley found by this time that he had had
+enough of his own company; and called to them. However she could not
+escape entirely.
+
+"I have answered your question, Miss Copley," Lawrence said as they
+were going down the slope towards the yet unseen caller. "Hallo! yes,
+we're coming.--Now am I not to have the promised answer to mine?"
+
+"How did you put it? the question?" said Dolly, standing still and
+facing her difficulties.
+
+"You know. _I_ don't know how I put it," St. Leger said with a half
+laugh. "But I meant, Dolly, that you are more to me than everything and
+everybody in the world; and I wanted to know what I am to you?"
+
+"Not _that_, Mr. St. Leger." Dolly was quiet, and did not shun his
+eyes; and though she did grow rosy, there were some suspicious dimples
+in her fair little face; very unencouraging, but absolutely
+irresistible at the same time.
+
+"What then?" said the young man. "Of course, I could not be to you what
+you are to me, Dolly. Naturally. But I can take care of your father and
+mother, and I will; and I will put you in a place as good as Brierley
+Park. I am my father's only son, and his heir, and I can do pretty much
+what I like to do. But I care for nothing if you will not share it with
+me."
+
+"I am not going to leave my father and mother at present," said Dolly,
+shaking her head.
+
+"No, not at present," said he eagerly, catching at her words. "Not at
+present. But you do not love anybody else, Dolly?"
+
+"Certainly not!"
+
+"Then you will let me hope? You will let me hold myself your best
+friend, after them?"
+
+"I believe you are that," said Dolly, giving him her hand;--"except my
+old Methodist acquaintance, Mrs. Jersey." Which addition was a little
+like a dash of cold water; but Lawrence was tolerably contented after
+all; and pondered seriously what he could do in the matter of Mr.
+Copley's gaming tendencies. Dolly was right; but it is awkward to
+preach against what you practise yourself.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+DIFFICULTIES.
+
+Dolly on her part had not much comfort in the review of this afternoon.
+"It was no good," she said to herself; "I am afraid it has encouraged
+Lawrence St. Leger in nonsense. I did not mean that, but I am afraid he
+took it for encouragement. So much for going walking Sunday. I'll never
+do it again."
+
+Lawrence had taken leave very cheerfully; that was certain. As much
+could not be said for his principal. Dolly had privately asked her
+father to send her down the money for the servants' wages; and Mr.
+Copley had given an offhand promise; but Dolly saw that same want of
+the usual ready ease in his manner, and was not surprised when days
+passed and the money did not come. The question recurred, what was she
+to do? She wrote to remind her father; and she took a fixed resolve
+that she would buy no more, of anything, that she could not on the spot
+pay for. This, however, was not a resolve immediately taken; it ensued
+when after several weeks the women again pressed for their money, and
+again in vain. Dolly started back then from the precipice she saw she
+might be nearing, and determined to owe no more debts. She wrote to her
+father once more, begging for a supply. And a supply came; but so
+meagre that Dolly could but partially pay her two servants and keep a
+little in hand to go to market with. Mr. Copley had not come down to
+Brierley in the meanwhile. Lawrence had.
+
+Her unaccustomed burden of care Dolly had kept to herself; therefore it
+startled her when one day her mother began upon the subject.
+
+"What's this about Margaret's wages, Dolly?"
+
+"She asked me for some money the other day," Dolly answered as easily
+as she could.
+
+"You didn't give it to her?"
+
+"I have given her part; I had not the whole."
+
+"Haven't you _any?_"
+
+"Yes, mother, but not enough to give Margaret all she wants."
+
+"Let her have what you've got, and write your father to send you some.
+I never like to keep servants waiting. What's theirs, isn't yours; and
+besides, they never serve you so well, and you're in their power."
+
+"Mother, I want to keep a little in the house, for every day calls,
+till I get some more."
+
+"Your father will send it immediately. Why he don't come himself, I
+don't see. _I_'m not gaining, all alone in this wilderness, with
+nothing but the trees of Brierley Park to look at. I can't think what
+your father is dreaming about!"
+
+Dolly was silent, and hoped the subject had blown over. Yet it could
+not blow over for ever, she reflected. What was she to do? Then her
+mother startled her again.
+
+"Dolly have you told your father that you want money?"
+
+Dolly hesitated; had to say yes.
+
+"And he did not give it to you?"
+
+"Yes, mother; he sent me some."
+
+"When?"
+
+"It was--it must have been three weeks ago."
+
+"How much?"
+
+"Not enough to pay all that is due to Margaret."
+
+Mrs. Copley laid down her face in her hands. A terrible pain went
+through Dolly's heart; but what could she say. It seemed as if pain
+pricked her like a shower of arrows, first on this side and then on
+that. She thought her mother _had_ gained somewhat in the past weeks;
+how would it, or could it, be now? Presently Mrs. Copley lifted up her
+head with a further question.
+
+"Is Sarah paid?"
+
+"No, mother; not yet," said poor Dolly.
+
+"Has Peter been paid anything?"
+
+"Not by us. We do not pay Peter at all," replied Dolly, feeling as if
+the words were stabbing her.
+
+"Who does?" said her mother quickly.
+
+"Mr. St. Leger sent him here. He is their servant really, and they take
+care of him."
+
+"I don't see how your father can content himself with that," said Mrs.
+Copley. "But I suppose that is one of the debts that _you_ will pay,
+Dolly."
+
+Dolly forced herself to speak very quietly, though every nerve and
+fibre was trembling and quivering. She said, "How, mother?"
+
+"I suppose you know. Mr. St. Leger knows, at any rate; and your father
+too, it seems."
+
+"Mother," said Dolly, sitting up a little straighter, "do you think I
+will pay debts in _that_ way?"
+
+"What other way will you pay them, then, child? what do you and your
+father expect? What _can_ you do, if you have not the money?" Mrs.
+Copley spoke bitterly. Dolly waited a little, perhaps to bite down or
+swallow down some feeling.
+
+"Mother," she said, somewhat lower, "do you think father would want me
+to pay his debts so?"
+
+"Want to?" echoed Mrs. Copley. "I tell you, Dolly, when people get into
+difficulties the question is not what they _want_ to do. They have to
+pocket their likings, and eat humble pie. But how has your father got
+into difficulties?" she burst out with an expression of frightened
+distress. "He always had plenty. Dolly!--tell me!--what do you know
+about it? what is it? How _could_ he get into difficulties! Oh, if we
+had staid at home! Dolly, how is it possible? We have always had
+plenty--money running like water--all my life; and now, how _could_
+your father have got into difficulties?"
+
+Perhaps the difficulty was but transient and would soon pass over,
+Dolly faintly suggested.
+
+"It don't look like it," said Mrs. Copley miserably, "and your father
+don't look like it. Here we are down in this desert, you and I, to keep
+us out of the way, and where we will cost as near nothing as can be;
+and we can't pay that! Do you know nothing about it, Dolly? how it has
+come about?"
+
+"I couldn't ask father such a question, mother, you know."
+
+"And what is to become of me!" Mrs. Copley went on; "when travelling is
+the thing I need. And what is to become of you, Dolly? Nobody to be
+seen, or to see you, but St. Leger. Have you made up your mind to be
+content with him? Will you have him, Dolly? and is that the way your
+father is going to take care of you?"
+
+Poor Mrs. Copley, having so long swallowed her troubles in secret,
+dreading to give pain to Dolly, now that her mouth was once opened
+poured them forth relentlessly. Why not? the subject was broached at
+last, and having spoken, she might go on to speak. And poor Dolly, full
+of her own anxieties, did not know where to begin to quiet those of her
+mother.
+
+"Mr. St. Leger is nothing to me," she said, however, in answer to Mrs.
+Copley's last suggestions.
+
+"He thinks he is."
+
+"Then he is very foolish," said Dolly, reddening.
+
+"It is you that are foolish, and you just do not know any better. I
+don't think, Dolly, that it would be at all a bad thing for
+you;--perhaps it would be the very best; though I'd rather have you
+marry one of our own people; but St. Leger is rich, very rich, I
+suppose; and your father has got mixed up with them somehow, and I
+suppose that would settle everything. St. Leger is handsome, too; he
+has a nice face; he has beautiful eyes; and he is a gentleman."
+
+"His face wants strength."
+
+"That's no matter. I begin to believe, Dolly, that you have wit enough
+for two."
+
+"I am not speaking of wit; I mean _strength;_ and I should never like
+any man that hadn't it; not like him in the way you mean, mother."
+
+"Strength? what sort of strength?"
+
+"I mean manliness; power to do right; power over himself and others;
+power over the wrong, to put it down, and over the right, to lift it up
+and give it play. I don't know that I can tell you what I mean, mother;
+but that is my notion of a man."
+
+"You are romantic, I am afraid, Dolly. You have been reading novels too
+much."
+
+"What novels, mother? I have not read any, except Scott's and Miss
+Austen's and 'The Scottish Chiefs.'"
+
+"Well, you have got romantic ideas, I am afraid. Your talk sounds
+romantic. You won't find that sort of man."
+
+"I don't care," said Dolly. "But if I don't, I'll never marry any other
+sort."
+
+"And that is a delusion too," said Mrs. Copley. "You will do just as
+other girls do. Nobody marries her fancy. And besides, St. Leger thinks
+he has got you; and I don't know but he and your father will manage it
+so. He don't ask _my_ advice."
+
+Now this was not quite true; for the subject of Mr. St. Leger had been
+discussed more than once between Dolly's parents; though certainly Mrs.
+Copley did see that matters were out of her hand and beyond her
+guidance now. Dolly was glad to have the conversation turn to something
+else; but the several subjects of it hardly left her head any more.
+
+It is blessedly true, that at seventeen there is a powerful spring of
+elasticity in the mind, and an inexhaustible treasury of hope; also it
+is true that Mrs. Copley was not wrong in her estimate of Dolly when
+she adjudged her to have plenty of "wit;" otherwise speaking, resources
+and acuteness. That was all true; nevertheless, Dolly's
+seventeen-year-old heart and head were greatly burdened with what they
+had to carry just now. Experience gave her no help, and the
+circumstances forbade her to depend upon the experience of her mother.
+Mrs. Copley's nerves must not be excited. So Dolly carried her burden
+alone, and found it very heavy; and debated her questions with herself,
+and could find an answer to never a one of them. How should she give
+her mother the rest and distraction of travelling? The doctor said, and
+Dolly believed, that it would be the best thing for her. But she could
+not even get speech of her father to consult over the matter with him
+Mr. Copley was caught in embarrassments of his own, worse than nervous
+ones. What could Dolly do, to break him off from his present habits,
+those she knew and those she dimly feared? Then when, as was
+inevitable, the image of Mr. St. Leger presented itself, as affording
+the readiest solution of all these problems, Dolly bounded back. Not
+_that_, of all possible outcomes of the present state of things. Dolly
+would neither be bought nor sold; would not in that way even be her
+parents' deliverer. She was sure she could not do that. What else could
+she do?
+
+She carried these questions about with her, out into the garden, and up
+into her room; and many a hot tear she shed over them, when she could
+be long enough away from her mother to let the tears dry and the signs
+of them disappear before she met Mrs. Copley's eyes again. To her eyes
+Dolly was unfailingly bright and merry; a most sweet companion and most
+entertaining society; lively, talkative, and busy with endless plans
+for her mother's amusement. Meanwhile she wrote to her father, begging
+him to come down to Brierley; she said she wanted to talk to him.
+
+Three days after that letter came Lawrence St. Leger. Mr. Copley could
+not spare the time, he reported.
+
+"Spare the time from what?" Dolly asked.
+
+"Oh, business, of course. It is always business."
+
+"What sort? Not consul business."
+
+"All sorts," said Lawrence. "He couldn't come. So he sent me. What is
+the thing, Miss Dolly? He said something was up."
+
+"I wanted to talk to my father," Dolly said coldly.
+
+"Won't I do?"
+
+"Not at all. I had business to discuss."
+
+"The journey, eh?"
+
+"That was one thing," Dolly was obliged to allow.
+
+"Well, look here. About that, I've a plan. I think I can arrange it
+with Mr. Copley, if you and your mother would be willing to set off
+with me, and let Mr. Copley join us somewhere--say at Baden Baden, or
+Venice, or where you like. He could come as soon as he was ready, you
+know."
+
+"But you know," said Dolly quietly, "I specially want _him_, himself."
+
+"But then your mother wants the journey. She really does. The doctor
+says so, you know, and I think he's right. And Mr. Copley won't leave
+London just now. He could send his secretary, you know. That's all
+right."
+
+"I must see father before I can do anything," said Dolly evasively. "I
+will write a letter for you to carry back to him. And I will go do it
+at once."
+
+"And I will take a look at what Peter is doing," said the young man.
+"Such fellows always want looking after."
+
+Dolly had looked after Peter herself. She paused before an upper window
+in her way to her room, to cast a glance down into the garden. Old
+Peter was there, at some work she had set him; and before him stood
+Lawrence, watching him, and she supposed making remarks; but at any
+rate, his air was the air of a master and of one very much at home.
+Dolly saw it, read it, stood still to read it, and turned from the
+window with her heart too full of vexation and perturbation to write
+her letter then. She felt a longing for somebody to talk to, even
+though she could by no means lay open all her case for counsel; the air
+of the house was too close for her; her breath could not be drawn free
+in that neighbourhood. She must see somebody; and no one had poor Dolly
+to go to but the housekeeper, Mrs. Jersey. Nobody, near or far. So she
+slipped out of the house and took a roundabout way to the great
+mansion. She dared not take a straight way and cross the bridge, lest
+she should be seen and followed; so she made a circuit, and got into
+the park woods only after some time of warm walking through lanes and
+over fields. Till then she had hurried; now, safe from interruption,
+she went slowly, and pondered what she was going to do or say. Pondered
+everything, and could not with all her thinking make the confusion less
+confusion. It was a warm, still, sultry day; the turf was dry, the air
+was spicy under the great trees; shadow and sunshine alternately
+crossed her path, or more correctly, her path crossed them. A certain
+sense of contrast smote her as she went. Around her were the tokens of
+a broad security, sheltering protection, quiet and immovable
+possession, careless wealth; and within her a tumult of fear,
+uncertainty, exposure, and craving need. Life seemed a very unequal
+thing to the little American girl. Her step became slower. What was she
+going to say to Mrs. Jersey? It was impossible to determine;
+nevertheless, Dolly felt that she must see her and speak to her. That
+was a necessity.
+
+Through the trees she caught at last sight of the grand old house. The
+dog knew her by this time and she did not fear him. She found the
+housekeeper busy with some sewing and glad to welcome her. Mrs. Jersey
+was that always. To-day she looked a little closer than usual at her
+visitor, discerning that Dolly's mind was not just in its wonted poise.
+And besides, she loved to look at her.
+
+Yet it is not easy to describe that for which our eyes seek and dwell
+upon a face or form. It is easy to say brown eyes and lightly curled,
+waving, beautiful hair; but hair is beautiful in different ways, and so
+faces. Can we put Dolly's charm into words? Mrs. Jersey saw a delicate,
+graceful, active figure, to begin with; delicate without any suspicion
+of weakness; active, in little quick, gracious movements, which it was
+fascinating to watch; and when not in motion, lovely in its childlike
+unconsciousness of repose. Her hair was exceedingly beautiful, not on
+account of its mass or colour so much as for the great elegance of its
+growth and curly arrangement or disarrangement around the face and
+neck; and the face was a blending of womanly and childlike. It could
+seem by turns most of the one or most of the other; but the clear eyes
+had at all times a certain deep _inwardness_, along with their bright,
+intelligent answer to the moment's impression, and also a certain
+innocent outlook, which was very captivating. And then, at a moment's
+notice, Dolly's face from being grave and thoughtful, would dimple all
+up with some flash of fun, and make you watch its change back to
+gravity again, with an intensified sense both of its merry and of its
+serious charm. She smiled at Mrs. Jersey now as she came in, but the
+housekeeper saw that the eyes had more care in their thoughtfulness
+than she was accustomed to see in them.
+
+"And how is the mother, dear?" she asked, when Dolly had drawn up a
+chair and sat down; for they were grown familiar friends by this time.
+
+"She is not getting on much, Mrs. Jersey. I wanted to talk to you about
+her. The doctor says travelling would be the best thing."
+
+"And you will go and travel? Where will you go?"
+
+"I don't know yet whether we can go anywhere. Mother wants to go."
+Dolly looked out hard into the tree groups on the lawn. They barred the
+vision.
+
+"That is one sign then that the doctor is right," said Mrs. Jersey. "It
+is good for sick folks to have what they like."
+
+"Isn't it good for people that are not sick?"
+
+"Sometimes," said Mrs. Jersey, smiling. "But sometimes not; or else the
+good Lord would let them have it, when He does not let them. What are
+_you_ wanting, Miss Dolly?"
+
+"I want everything different from what it is just now!" said Dolly, the
+tears starting to her eyes. The housekeeper was moved with a great
+sympathy; sympathy that was silent at first.
+
+"Can I help?" she asked.
+
+"Maybe you can help with your counsel," said Dolly, brushing her hand
+over her eyes; "that is what I came here for to-day. I wanted to speak
+to somebody; and I have nobody but you, Mrs. Jersey."
+
+"Your mother, my dear?"
+
+"I can't worry mother."
+
+"True. You are right. Well, my dear? What do you want counsel about?"
+
+"It is very difficult to tell you. I don't know if I can. I will try.
+One thing. Mrs. Jersey, is it right sometimes, is it a girl's duty
+ever--to sacrifice herself for her parents?".
+
+The housekeeper had not expected this form of dilemma, and hesitated a
+few minutes.
+
+"Sacrifice herself how, Miss Dolly?"
+
+"Marrying, for instance."
+
+"Marrying somebody she does not care for?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"How 'for her parents'?"
+
+"Suppose--I am just supposing,--suppose he has money, and they haven't.
+Suppose, for instance, they are in difficulties, and by her sacrificing
+herself she can put them out of difficulty? Such a case might be, you
+know."
+
+"Often has been; or at least people have thought so. But, Miss Dolly,
+where is a young lady's first duty?"
+
+"To God, of course; her first duty."
+
+"And next after God?"
+
+"To her parents, I suppose."
+
+"And besides her parents?"
+
+"I don't know; nobody, I think."
+
+"Let us see. She owes something to herself."
+
+"Does she?"
+
+"And do you not think she owes something to the other party concerned?
+don't you think she owes something to the gentleman she is to marry?"
+
+"Yes, of course," said Dolly slowly. "I do not know exactly what,
+though; nor exactly what she owes to herself."
+
+"Before taking any course of action, in a matter that is very
+important, shouldn't she look all round the subject? and see what will
+become of all these duties?"
+
+"Certainly. But the first comes first."
+
+"The first comes first. How does the first look to you?"
+
+"The first is her duty to God."
+
+"Well. What does her duty to God say?"
+
+"I don't know," said Dolly very gravely. "I am all in a puzzle.
+Something in me says one thing, and something else in me cries out
+against it. Mrs. Jersey, the Bible says, 'Honour thy father and thy
+mother.'"
+
+"Yes, and it says, 'Children, obey your parents.' But the next words
+that come after, are--'_in the Lord_.'"
+
+"How is that?"
+
+"So as you can without failing in your duty to Him."
+
+"Can duties clash?"
+
+"No," said the housekeeper, smiling; "for, as you said, 'the first
+comes first.'"
+
+"I do not understand," said Dolly. "It is my duty to obey His word; and
+His word says, obey them."
+
+"Only not when their command or wish goes against His."
+
+"Well, how would this?" said Dolly. "Suppose they wish me to marry
+somebody, and my doing so would be very good for them? The Bible says,
+'Love seeks not her own.'"
+
+"Most true," said the housekeeper, watching the tears that suddenly
+stood in Dolly's bright eyes. "But it says some other things."
+
+"What, Mrs. Jersey? Do make it clear to me if you can. I am all in a
+muddle."
+
+"My dear, I am not a very good hand to explain what I mean. But do you
+not think you owe it both to yourself and to God, not to do what would
+blast your life? you cannot serve Him so well with a blasted life."
+
+"It seems to me," said Dolly, speaking slowly, "I have a right to give
+up my own happiness. I do not see the wrong of it."
+
+"In anything else," said the housekeeper. "In anything else, my dear;
+only not in marriage! My dear, it is not simply giving up one's
+happiness; it is a long torture! No, you owe it to yourself; for in
+that way you could never grow to be what you might be. My dear, I have
+seen it tried. I have known a woman who married so, thinking that it
+would not matter so much; she fulfilled life's duties nobly, she was a
+good wife and mother and friend; but when I asked her once, after she
+had told me her story, how life had been to her?--I shall never forget
+how she turned to me and said, 'It has been a hell upon earth!' Miss
+Dolly, no good father and mother would buy _anything_ at such a price;
+and no man that really loved a woman would have her at such a price;
+and so, if you follow the rule, 'Whatsoever ye would that men should do
+to you, do ye even so to them'--you will never marry in that way."
+
+There was a little silence, and then Dolly said in an entirely changed
+tone, "You have cleared up the mist, Mrs. Jersey."
+
+"Then there is another thing," the housekeeper went on. She heard the
+change in Dolly's voice, out of which the anxiety had suddenly
+vanished, but she was willing to make assurance doubly sure. "Did you
+ever think what a woman owes to the man she marries?"
+
+"I never thought about it," said Dolly. "What a man asks for, is that
+she will marry him." How Dolly's cheeks flamed up. But she was very
+serious, and the housekeeper if possible yet more so.
+
+"Miss Dolly, she owes him the best love of her heart, after that she
+gives to God."
+
+"I don't see how she can," said Dolly. "I do not see how she _can_ love
+him so well as her father and mother."
+
+"He expects it, though, and has a right to it. And unless a woman can
+give it, she cannot be a true wife. She makes a false vow at the altar.
+And unless she do love him so, it may easily happen that she will find
+somebody afterwards that she will like better than her husband. And
+then, all is lost."
+
+"After she is married?" said Dolly.
+
+"Perhaps after she has been married for years. If she has not married
+the right man, she may find him when she cannot marry him."
+
+"But that is dreadful!" cried Dolly.
+
+"The world is a pretty mixed-up place," said the housekeeper. "I want
+_your_ way to be straight and clear, Miss Dolly."
+
+There was a pause again, at the end of which Dolly repeated, "Thank
+you, Mrs. Jersey. You have cleared up the mist for me."
+
+"I hear it in your voice," said her friend, smiling. "It has got its
+clear, sweet ring again. Is _all_ the trouble disposed of?"
+
+"Oh no!" said Dolly, a shadow crossing her face anew; "but I am
+relieved of one great perplexity. That was not all my trouble;--I
+cannot tell you all. I wish I could! One thing,--I want to see my
+father dreadfully, to talk to him about mother's going travelling; and
+I cannot get sight of him. He stays in London. And time is flying."
+
+"Write," said the housekeeper.
+
+"Oh, I have written. And I have sent messages. I would go up to London
+myself, but I cannot go alone."
+
+"Miss Dolly," said the housekeeper, after a minute's thought, "perhaps
+I can help here too. I have to go up to London for a few days, and was
+thinking to go next week. If you will trust yourself to me, I will take
+you, and take care of you."
+
+Dolly was overjoyed at this suggestion. A little more conversation to
+settle preliminaries and particulars, and Dolly set off on her way home
+with a much lightened heart.
+
+"Ah me!" thought the housekeeper, as she stood at the door looking
+after her, "how hard we do make it for each other in this world!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+THE CONSUL'S OFFICE.
+
+Before Dolly had reached home she was joined by Mr. St. Leger. He was
+still in the park.
+
+"Have you been for a walk?" said he in astonished fashion.
+
+"I suppose that would be a natural conclusion," said Dolly. She spoke
+easily; it rejoiced her to find how easily she could now meet Mr. St.
+Leger. Yet the game was not all played out, either.
+
+"Why didn't you let me know, that I might go with you?" he went on.
+
+"That was not in my purpose," rejoined Dolly lightly.
+
+"That is very unkind, Dolly."
+
+"Truth is never unkind."
+
+"Yes, indeed, it may be; it is now."
+
+"Would you like falsehood better?"
+
+"You need not be false."
+
+"I must be either false or true, must I not? Which would you rather
+have, Mr. St. Leger?"
+
+"It would be no good, my choosing," said he, with a half laugh; "for
+you would never give me anything but absolute truth, I know. I believe
+that is one of your attractions, Dolly. All other girls put on
+something, and a fellow never can tell what he is served to, the dish
+is spiced so cleverly. But you are like a piece of game, with no
+flavour but your own; and that is wild enough, and rare enough too."
+
+"Mr. St. Leger," said Dolly gravely, "you ought to study rhetoric.''
+
+"Have. Why?"
+
+"I am afraid that last speech was rather mixed up."
+
+"Look here,--I wish you'd call me Lawrence. We know each other quite
+well enough."
+
+"Is that the custom in your country?"
+
+"It is going to be your country, as well. You need not speak in that
+fashion."
+
+"I am thinking of leaving the country," Dolly went on unconcernedly.
+"Mother is longing to travel; and I am going to bring it about."
+
+"I have tried Mr. Copley on that subject, I assure you."
+
+"I shall try now, and do it."
+
+"Think so? Then we will consult about plans and routes again this
+evening. Mrs. Copley likes that almost as well as the thing itself.
+For, Dolly, you cannot get along without me."
+
+Which assertion Dolly left uncontroverted.
+
+A few days after Lawrence had gone back to town was the time for Mrs.
+Jersey's journey. Dolly told her mother her plan; and after a deal of
+doubts and fears and arguings on Mrs. Copley's part, it was finally
+agreed to. It seemed the hopefullest thing to do; and Mrs. Copley could
+be left well enough with the servants for a few days. So, early one
+morning Mrs. Jersey called for her, and Dolly with a beating heart
+kissed her mother and went off.
+
+Some business reasons occasioned the housekeeper to make the journey in
+a little covered carriage belonging to the house, instead of taking the
+public post-coach. It was all the pleasanter for Dolly, being entirely
+private and quiet; though the time consumed was longer. They were then
+in the end of summer; the weather was delicious and warm; the country
+rich in flowers and grain fields and ripening fruit. Dolly at first was
+full of delight, the change and the novelty were so welcome, and the
+country through which they drove was so exceeding lovely. Nevertheless,
+as the day went by there began to creep over her a strange feeling of
+loneliness; a feeling of being out on the journey of life all by
+herself and left to her own skill and resources. It was not the journey
+to London; for _that_ she was well accompanied and provided; it was the
+real undertaking upon which she had set out, the goal of which was not
+London but--her father. To find her father not only, but to keep him;
+to prevent his being lost to himself, lost to her mother, to life, and
+to her. Could she? Or was she embarked on an enterprise beyond her
+strength? A weak girl; what was she, to do so much! It grew and pressed
+upon her, this feeling of being alone and busy with a work too great
+for her; till gradually the lovely country through which she was
+passing ceased to be lovely; it might have been a wilderness, for all
+its cheer or promise to her. Dolly had talked at first, in simple,
+gleeful, girlish pleasure; little by little her words grew fewer, her
+eye lost its glad life; until she sat back, withdrawn into herself, and
+spoke no more unless spoken to.
+
+The housekeeper noticed the change, saw and read the abstracted,
+thoughtful look that had taken place of the gay, interested delight of
+the morning. She perceived that Dolly had serious work on hand, of some
+sort; and she longed to help her. For the fair, sweet, womanly
+thoughtfulness was as lofty and lovely in its way, as the childlike
+simplicity of enjoyment before had been bewitching. She was glad when
+the day's ride came to an end.
+
+The stoppage was made at a little wayside inn; a low building of grey
+stone, overgrown with ivy and climbing roses, with a neatly kept bit of
+grass in front. Here Dolly's interest and delight awoke again. This was
+something unlike all she had ever seen. Simple and plain enough the inn
+was; stone flooring and wooden furniture of heavy and ancient pattern
+made it that; but at the same time it was substantial, comfortable,
+neat as wax, and with a certain air of well-to-do thrift which was very
+pleasant. Mrs. Jersey was known here and warmly received. The
+travellers were shown into a cosy little room, brown wainscoted, and
+with a great jar of flowers in the chimney; and here the cloth was
+immediately laid for their dinner, or supper. For the supper itself
+they had to wait a little; and after putting off her bonnet and
+refreshing herself in an inner room, Dolly sat down by one of the small
+windows. The day was declining. Slant sunbeams shot across a wide plain
+and threw long shadows from the trees. The trees, especially those
+overhanging the inn, were old and large and fine; the lights and
+shadows were moveless, calm, peaceful; one or two neighbouring fields
+were stocked with beautiful cattle; and a flock of geese went waddling
+along over the green. It was removed from all the scenes of Dolly's
+experience; as unlike them as her being there alone was unlike the rest
+of her life; in the strangeness there was this time an element of
+relief.
+
+"How beautiful the world is, Mrs. Jersey!" she remarked.
+
+"You find it so here?" answered her friend.
+
+"Why, yes, I do. Don't you?"
+
+"I suppose I am spoiled, Miss Dolly, by being accustomed to Brierley."
+
+"Oh, this is not Brierley! but I am not comparing them. This is very
+pretty, Mrs. Jersey! Why, Mrs. Jersey, you don't despise a daisy
+because it isn't a rose!"
+
+"No," said her friend; "but I suppose I cannot see the daisy when the
+rose is by." She was looking at Dolly.
+
+"Well," said Dolly, "the rose is not by; and I like this very much.
+What a neat house! and what a pleasant sort of comfort there is about
+everything. I would not have missed this, Mrs. Jersey, for a good deal."
+
+"I am glad, Miss Dolly. I was thinking you were not taking much good of
+your day's ride--the latter part."
+
+Dolly was silent, looking out now somewhat soberly upon the smiling
+scene; then she jumped up and threw off her gravity, and came to the
+supper-table. It was spread with exquisite neatness, and appetising
+nicety. Dolly found herself hungry. If but her errand to London had
+been of a less serious and critical character, she could have greatly
+enjoyed the adventure and its picturesque circumstances. With the
+elastic strength of seventeen, however, she did enjoy it, even so.
+
+"How good you are to me, Mrs. Jersey!" she said, after the table was
+cleared and the two were sitting in the falling twilight. The still
+peace outside and inside the house had found its way to Dolly's heart.
+There was the brooding hush of the summer evening, marked, not broken,
+by sounds of insects or lowing of cattle, and the voices of farm
+servants attending to their work. It was yet bright outside, though the
+sun had long gone down; inside the house shades were gathering.
+
+"I wish I could be good to you, Miss Dolly," was the housekeeper's
+answer.
+
+"Oh, you are! I do not know what in the world I should have done, if
+you had not let me go with you to London now."
+
+"What can I do for you when we get there?"
+
+"Oh, nothing! thank you."
+
+"You know exactly where to go and what to do?"
+
+"I shall take a cab and go--let me see,--yes, to father's rooms. If I
+do not find him there, I must go to his office."
+
+"In the City?"
+
+"Yes. Will that be very far from your house? Why, yes, of course; we
+shall be at the West End. Well, all the same, near or far, I must see
+my father."
+
+"You must be so good as to let me go in the cab with you," said Mrs.
+Jersey. "I cannot let you drive all about London alone by yourself."
+
+"Oh, thank you!" said Dolly again, with an undoubted accent of relief.
+"But"----
+
+That sentence remained unfinished. Dolly meditated. So did the
+housekeeper. She was wise enough to see that all was not exactly clear
+and fair in her young friend's path; of what nature the trouble might
+be she could only surmise.
+
+"What if Mr. Copley should not be in London?" she ventured.
+
+"Oh, he must be. At least he was there a very few days ago. He never is
+away from London, except when he goes to visit somewhere."
+
+"It is coming towards the time now when the gentlemen go down into the
+country to shoot."
+
+"Father does not care for shooting. I mean to get him to go to Venice
+instead, with mother and me."
+
+"Suppose you should fail in that plan, Miss Dolly? is your business
+done then?"
+
+"No. Oh no!" said Dolly, for a moment covering her face with her hands.
+"O Mrs. Jersey! if I could not manage that, I do not know what I should
+do!" Dolly's voice had a premonition of despair. "But I guess I can do
+it," she added with a resumption of cheerfulness. And she talked on
+from that time merrily of other things.
+
+When they arrived in London next day, it was already too late for Dolly
+to do anything. She was fain to let Mrs. Jersey lodge her and feast her
+and pet her to her heart's content. She was put in a pretty room in the
+great house; she was entertained royally, as far as the viands went;
+and in every imaginable way the housekeeper was carefully kind. Well
+for Dolly; who needed all the help of kindness and care. The whole long
+day she had been brooding on what she had to do, and trying to imagine
+how things would be. Without data, that is a specially wearisome
+occupation; inasmuch as one may imagine anything, and there is nothing
+to contradict the most extravagant speculations. Dolly's head and heart
+were tired by the time night came, and her nerves in an excited
+condition, to which Mrs. Jersey's ministrations and the interest of the
+place gave a welcome relief. Dolly tried to put off thought. But
+everything pressed upon her, now that she was so near seeing her
+father; and seventeen-years-old felt as if it had a great load on its
+young shoulders.
+
+"Mrs. Jersey," she began, after supper, "you are quite sure that it is
+never right for a girl to sacrifice herself for the sake of benefiting
+her parents?"
+
+"In the way of marrying a man she does not love? Miss Dolly, a
+Christian man would never have a young lady marry him on those terms."
+
+"Suppose he is not a Christian man?"
+
+"Then he may be selfish enough to do it. But in that case, Miss Dolly,
+a Christian woman can have nothing to say to him."
+
+"Why not? She might bring _him_ to be Christian, you know."
+
+"That isn't the Lord's way, Miss Dolly."
+
+"What is His way, then?"
+
+"You will find it in the sixth chapter of 2nd Corinthians. 'Be not
+unequally yoked together with unbelievers.'"
+
+"But that means"----
+
+"It _says_--Miss Dolly; it _says_,--do not be yoked up with one who is
+not following the Lord; neither in marriage, nor in business. Two oxen
+in a yoke, Miss Dolly, have to pull the same way; and if they don't
+want to, the weakest must go with the strongest."
+
+"But might not the Christian one be the strongest?"
+
+"His disobeyeing the Lord's command just shows he isn't that."
+
+Dolly let the subject drop. She took a little cushion and sat down by
+her friend's side and laid her head in her lap; and they sat so a
+while, Mrs. Jersey looking fondly down upon the very lovely bright head
+on her knees, and marvelling sorrowfully at the fathers and mothers who
+prepare trouble for such tender and delicate creatures as their young
+daughters.
+
+The next morning she admired her charge under a new view of her. Dolly
+appeared at breakfast with a calm, measured manner, which, if it were
+in part the effect of great pressure upon her spirits, had at the same
+time the grace of a very finished breeding. Mrs. Jersey looked and
+admired, and wondered too. How had the little American got this air?
+She could not put it on herself; but she had seen her mistresses in the
+great world wear it; a certain unconscious, disengaged dignity which
+sat marvellously well upon the gracious softness and young beauty of
+this little girl.
+
+The breakfast was rather silent. The drive, which they entered upon
+immediately after, was almost wholly so. Mrs. Jersey, true to her
+promise, let her own affairs wait, and accompanied her young friend.
+Dolly had changed her plan, and went now first to Mr. Copley's office
+in the city. It was the hour when he should be there, and to go to his
+lodging would have taken them out of the way. So they drove the long
+miles from Grosvenor Square to the American Consul's office. Dolly's
+mood was eager and hopeful now; yet with too much pressure to allow of
+her talking.
+
+The cab stopped opposite the entrance of a narrow covered way between
+two walls of houses. Following this narrow passage, Mrs. Jersey and
+Dolly emerged into a little court, very small, on one side of which two
+or three steps led to the American Consul's offices. The first one they
+entered was full of people, waiting to see the Consul or parleyeing
+with one or another of the clerks. Dolly left Mrs. Jersey there to wait
+for her, and herself went on into the inner room, her father's special
+private office. In those days the office of American Consul was of far
+more importance and dignity than to-day; and this room was a tolerably
+comfortable one and respectably furnished.
+
+Here, however, her father was not; and it immediately struck Dolly that
+he had not been there very lately. How she gathered this impression is
+less easy to tell, for she could hardly be said to see distinctly any
+one of the characters in which the fact was written. She did not know
+that dust lay thick on his writing-table, and that even the papers
+piled there were brown with it; she did not know that the windows were
+fastened down this warm day, nor that an arm-chair which usually stood
+there for the accommodation of visitors was gone, having been slipped
+into the outer office by an ease-loving clerk. It was a general air of
+forsakenness, visible in these and in yet slighter signs, which struck
+Dolly's sense. She stood a moment, bewildered, hoping against sense, as
+it were; then turned about. As she turned she was met by a young man
+who had followed her in from the outer office. Dolly faced him.
+
+"Where is Mr. Copley?"
+
+"He ain't here." The Yankee accents of home were unmistakeable.
+
+"I see he is not here; but where is he?"
+
+"Couldn't say, reelly. 'Spect he's to his place. We don't ginerally
+expect ladies at this time o' day, or I guess he'd ha' ben on hand."
+The clerk grinned at Dolly's beauty, the like of which to be sure was
+not often seen anywhere at that, or any other, time of day.
+
+"When was Mr. Copley here, sir?"
+
+"Couldn't say. 'Tain't very long, nother. Was you wantin' to see him on
+an a'pintment?"
+
+"No. I am Miss Copley. Where can I find my father? Please tell me as
+quick as you can."
+
+"Sartain--ef I knowed it. Now I wisht I did! Mr. Copley, he comes and
+he goes, and he don't tell me which way; and there it is, you see."
+
+"Where is Mr. St. Leger?"
+
+"Mr. Silliger? Don't know the gentleman. Likely Mr. Copley doos. But he
+ain't here to say. Mebbe it 'ud be a good plan to make a note of it.
+That's what Mr. Copley allays says; 'make a note of it.'"
+
+"You do not know, sir, perhaps, whether Mr. Copley is in London?"
+
+"He was in London--'taint very long ago, for he was in this here
+office, and I see him; but that warn't yesterday, and it warn't the day
+before. Where he's betaken himself between whiles, ain't known to me.
+Shall I make a note, miss, against he comes?"
+
+
+"No," said Dolly, turning away; "no need. And no use."
+
+She rejoined Mrs. Jersey and they went back to the carriage.
+
+"He is not there," she said excitedly; "and he has not been there for
+several days. We must go to his lodgings--all the way back almost!"
+
+"Never mind," said the housekeeper. "We have the day before us."
+
+"It is almost twelve," said Dolly, looking at her watch. "Before we get
+there it will be one. I am a great deal of trouble to you, I fear, Mrs.
+Jersey; more than I meant to be."
+
+"My dear, it's no trouble. I am happy to be of any use to you. What
+sort of a chain is that you wear, Miss Dolly?"
+
+"Curious, isn't it?" said Dolly. "It was given me long ago. It is woven
+of threads of a ship cable."
+
+"It is a beautiful chain," said her friend, examining it admiringly.
+"But that is very clever, Miss Dolly! I should never fancy it was a
+piece of cable. Is there an anchor anywhere?"
+
+"No," said Dolly, laughing. "Though I am not sure," she added
+thoughtfully. "My memory goes back along this chain a great way;--back
+to the time when I was a little girl, quite little, and very happy at
+school and with a dear aunt, whom I lived with then. And back there at
+the end of the chain are all those pleasant images; and one most
+beautiful day, when we went to visit a ship; a great man-of-war. A most
+beautiful day!" Dolly repeated with the accent of loving recollection.
+
+"And you brought back a piece of cable from the ship, and braided this?"
+
+"No. Oh no! I did not do it; I could not. It was done for me."
+
+"By a friend's fingers?"
+
+"Yes, I suppose you may say so," said Dolly; "though it is a friend I
+have never seen since then. I suppose I never shall. But I always wear
+the chain. Oh, how long that seems ago!--Is childhood the happiest time
+of a person's life, Mrs. Jersey?"
+
+"Maybe I might say yes. Miss Dolly; but if I did, I should mean not
+what you mean. I should mean the little-child life that one can have
+when one is old. When the heart says, 'Not my will, but Thine'--when it
+says, 'Speak, Lord, for Thy servant heareth.' You know, the Master
+said, 'Except ye become as little children, ye shall not enter into the
+kingdom of heaven.'"
+
+"I don't believe I am just as much of a child, then, as I used to be,"
+remarked Dolly.
+
+"Get back to it, my dear, as fast as you can."
+
+"But when one _isn't_ a child, things are so different. It is easy to
+trust and give up for a child's things; but when one is a woman"----
+
+"It is just the same, dear Miss Dolly! Our great affairs, they are but
+child's matters to the Lord's eyes. The difference is in
+ourselves--when our hearts get proud, and our self-will gets up."
+
+"I wish I could be like a child now," said Dolly from the depths of her
+heart. "I feel as if I were carrying the whole family on my shoulders,
+and as if _I_ must do it."
+
+"You cannot, my dear! Your shoulders will break. 'Casting your care
+upon Him,' the Bible says--'for He careth for you.'"
+
+"One does not see Him"---- said Dolly, with her eyes very full.
+
+"Faith can see," the housekeeper returned; and then there was a long
+silence; while the carriage rattled along over the streets, and
+threaded its way through the throng of business, or bread-seekers or
+pleasure-seekers. So many people! Dolly wondered if every one of them
+carried his secret burden of care, as she was doing; and if they were,
+she wondered how the world lived on and bore the multitudinous strain.
+Oh, to be a child, in the full, blessed sense of the term!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+A FIGHT.
+
+The cab stopped, and Dolly's heart gave a great thump against her ribs.
+What was she afraid of?
+
+Mrs. Jersey said she would wait in the cab, and Dolly applied herself
+to the door-knocker. A servant came, a stupid one seemingly.
+
+"Is Mr. Copley at home?"
+
+"I dunno."
+
+"Will you find out, please?"
+
+"Jemima, who's that?" called a voice of authority from behind the
+scenes.
+
+"Somebody arter the gentleman, ma'am. I dunno, is he in his room?"
+
+The owner of the voice came forward; a portly, respectable landlady.
+She surveyed Dolly, glanced at the cab, became very civil, invited
+Dolly in, and sent the maid upstairs to make inquiries, declaring she
+did not know herself whether the gentleman were out or in. Dolly would
+not sit down. The girl brought down word that Mr. Copley was not out of
+his bedroom yet.
+
+"I went in the parlour, ma'am, and knocked, ma'am; and I might as well
+ha' axed my broom, ma'am."
+
+"I'll go up," said Dolly hastily; and waiting for no answer, she
+brushed past landlady and maid and ran up the stairs. Then paused.
+
+"Which rooms? on the first floor?"
+
+The woman of the house came bustling after her up the stairs and opened
+the door of a sitting-room. It was very comfortably furnished.
+
+"You couldn't go wrong, ma'am," she said civilly, "I 'ave no one in my
+rooms at this present, except Mr. Copley. I suppose you are his
+daughter, ma'am?"
+
+"His daughter," Dolly repeated, standing still and facing the landlady,
+and keeping down all outward expression of the excitement which was
+consuming her. She knew she kept it down; she faced the woman steadily
+and calmly, and the landlady was more and more humbly civil. "Mr.
+Copley is not ill?" Dolly went on.
+
+"Oh, dear, no, ma'am! not to call h'ill. Mr. Copley is in enjoyment of
+very good 'ealth; as I 'ave occasion to know, ma'am, who cooks his
+meals for him. I can allers tell by that. When a gentleman or a lady
+'as good taste for their victuals, I think it's no 'arm if they sleeps
+a little long in the morning; it's a trifle onconvenient to the 'ouse,
+it may be, when things is standing roun', but it's good for
+theirselves, no doubt, and satisfyin' and they'll be ready for their
+breakfast when they comes h'out. And shall I wake Mr. Copley for you,
+ma'am? It's time for him, to be sure."
+
+"Thank you, no; you need not do anything. I will sit here and wait a
+little."
+
+"And Mr. Copley's coffee'll be ready for him, ma'am, when he's ready
+for h'it. Mr. Copley, he sets a good deal by his coffee, and likes it
+made particular, and he _gets_ it made particular. Didn't Mr. Copley
+tell you, ma'am, as his coffee was satisfactory?"
+
+"I daresay it is," said Dolly; "and I will ring for it when my father
+wants it. You may leave me; I will wait here."
+
+The landlady had been going round the room, picking up a bit of paper
+here and wiping her apron over a table there, the while taking a
+careful view of Dolly and examining her all over. Dolly's figure and
+manner were irreproachable; and with renewed proffers of service, the
+woman at last, having no choice, left the room. Dolly stood still a
+moment then, collecting herself and looking at the situation. Past one
+o'clock, and her father not out of his room! That was not like any of
+his habits, as she knew them; and Dolly stood with the shadow of a
+nameless fear falling across her spirit. Nameless, and formless; she
+did not discern it clearly or attempt to examine it; the mere shadow of
+it chilled her to the bone. She stood thinking, and trembling. Not at
+his office for several days, though business must be calling for him;
+not out of his room at one o'clock in the afternoon, though all his old
+simple home habits were opposed to such a waste of daylight! Should she
+try to arouse him? Dolly did try, after a little while; for she could
+not bear the still waiting; she knocked at the inner door; but she got
+no response. Then she went down to Mrs. Jersey at the cab, and told her
+the state of the case, begging her to go away and not wait any longer.
+_She_ must wait, and it was impossible to say how long.
+
+"Miss Dolly, does your father often rise so late?"
+
+"They say so. He never used, but it seems he does now."
+
+"It's the way with a many," said the housekeeper. "Never mind me, my
+dear. I'll wait here, or if I get tired of that, I will come in and sit
+with the landlady. I shall not leave you."
+
+Inwardly thankful, Dolly went back to her post and sat down and looked
+around her. She could tell nothing by the room or its contents. Both
+were nice enough; there was a slight smell of cigars, that was all to
+find fault with. Dolly waited. The stillness grew dreadful. To
+seventeen years old the first trouble comes hard; albeit seventeen
+years old has also a great fund of spirit and strength to meet and
+conquer trouble. But what was the trouble here? It was not the unusual
+scantiness of means; _that_ could soon be made right, if other things
+were not wrong which wrought to cause it. On the other hand, if her
+father had fallen irreparably into bad habits--Dolly would not admit
+the "irreparably" into her thoughts. But it was bitter to her that
+children should ever have to find their parents in the wrong; dreadful
+to have occasion to be ashamed of them. She knew, if her case proved
+such a one, it would be only one of a great many; she had read of such
+things, although chiefly among another class of people who were of
+coarser habits and duller natures, and if they fell had less distance
+to fall to get to the lowest level of society. But _her father!_--Dolly
+cowered with her head down upon the back of a chair, and a cry in her
+heart calling upon his name. Her father? could she have to blush for
+him? All her nature revolted against it; the thought came over her as a
+thick black cloud, so thick that for the moment light was banished from
+all her little landscape. Oh, how can fathers do such things! and how
+can daughters live under them! Death might be borne easier; but
+disgrace? Death would leave the loved one still her own; disgrace
+seemed to have a power of annihilation. Still, Dolly knew not that such
+trouble was really come upon her; alas, she did know too well that the
+fear of it had. And what a descent did that alone imply! She raised her
+head again, and sat with dry eyes and a beating heart, waiting.
+
+At last she was sure she heard some movement in the inner room. She
+heard the click of things that were moved; the fall of a chair that was
+knocked over, sounds of steps. Finally the door opened, and Mr. Copley
+appeared on the threshold. The sight of him smote his daughter. His
+dress was carelessly thrown on; _that_ was not so very remarkable, for
+Mr. Copley never was an exact man in matters of the toilet. It was not
+merely that. But Dolly's eye saw that his step was unsteady, his face
+dull and flushed, and his eye had a look which even a very little
+experience understands. His air was haggard, spiritless, hopeless; so
+unlike the alert, self-sufficient, confident manner of old, that
+Dolly's heart got a great wrench. And something in the whole image was
+so inexpressibly pitiful to her, that she did the very last thing it
+had been in her purpose to do; she fled to him with one bound, threw
+herself on his breast, and burst into a heartbreak of tears.
+
+Poor Mr. Copley was greatly startled and sorely perplexed. He had not
+been prepared to see his daughter; and though miserably conscious that
+he offered ground enough himself for Dolly's passion, he could not yet
+be sure that it concerned him. It might be wrought by some other cause;
+and in sore dismay and uncertainty he was not able to bring out a word
+of question. Dolly sobbed, and sobbed; and putting her arms up around
+his neck strained him in an embrace that was most pitifully longing and
+tender. Mr. Copley felt the pitifulness; he did not know what it meant.
+It was not till Dolly had released him and was trying to dry her eyes
+that he brought out a question.
+
+"What's the matter with you, Dolly?"
+
+Dolly heard the thick and lumbering accent of his words, and burst
+forth in a despairing cry. "O father! what is the matter with you?"
+
+"I'm all right," said poor Mr. Copley. "I'm all right. What are you
+here for?"
+
+"I wanted to see you. Why did you never come down? You haven't been
+near us."
+
+"I was coming--hindered always--I was coming, Dolly. How's your mother?"
+
+Dolly made a great effort after voice and calmness.
+
+"She is well--I mean, she is no worse than usual. Will you have your
+coffee, father?"
+
+But Dolly's voice choked with a sob. Mr. Copley looked at her in a
+helpless kind of way and made no answer. Dolly rang the bell.
+
+"How--a--how did you get here?" was the next question, put in evident
+embarrassment.
+
+"You wouldn't come to Brierley, father; so I had to come to London. I
+came with a friend."
+
+"St. Leger?"
+
+"St. Leger! No, indeed. Oh, I came with a very nice friend, who took
+good care of me. Now, here's your breakfast."
+
+Dolly was glad of the chance to get upon common everyday ground, till
+her breath should be free again. She helped arrange the dishes;
+dismissed the maid; poured out Mr. Copley's coffee and served him.
+
+"Better take some yourself, Dolly. Had your breakfast? Let Mrs. Bunce
+do you another chop."
+
+Dolly at first said no; but presently felt that she was faint and
+exhausted, and agreed to the suggestion. She rang for another cup and
+plate, and ordered the chop. Meanwhile Mr. Copley drank coffee and made
+a poor hand of the rest of his breakfast.
+
+"What did you come up for, Dolly?"
+
+"To see you, sir."
+
+"You might have waited for that."
+
+"But how long? I had waited."
+
+"What's up?--if your mother's well."
+
+"I wanted to talk to you, father, and I couldn't do it in letters;
+because there the talking was all on one side, and I wanted to hear
+what you would say."
+
+"Why, didn't I answer you?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Well, what do you want, Dolly?"
+
+"I want a great deal, father. Wait, please, till I get my chop; for I
+cannot talk to you till I do."
+
+"'Ill talking between a full man and a fasting,' eh? Well, here's your
+breakfast."
+
+It was only the bespoken cup and plate, however, and Mr. Copley had to
+wait longer. It came at last, the chop; and till it came Dolly said no
+more. Her father watched her, and watched her, and could not take his
+eyes off her. The flush on her cheek and the sparkle in her eye, the
+moisture still lingering on her eyelashes, how sweet she was! and how
+indefinably lovely! Dolly had grown into a woman; she had the presence
+and poise that belong to a high-bred woman; and yet she had not lost
+her girlhood nor grown out of its artless graces; and as Mr. Copley
+looked he saw now and then a very childlike trembling of the under lip.
+It troubled his heart. He had been very uncomfortable ever since his
+meeting with his daughter; the discomfort began now to develope into
+the stings and throes of positive pain. What was she there for? whence
+had come that agony of tears? and why when those tears were pouring
+from her eyes did her soft arm clasp him so? did she want help from
+him? or for him? Mr. Copley grew extremely uneasy; restless and
+fidgeting. Dolly ate her chop and her potatoe, needing it, I fancy; and
+perhaps she wanted to gain time too. Mr. Copley had no appetite. He had
+none to begin with, and certainly Dolly's appearance had not given him
+what he had not before.
+
+"You don't make much of a breakfast, father," Dolly observed.
+
+"Never do," he returned. "No time to eat, when a man has just got up. A
+cup of coffee is the only thing. The French way is the best."
+
+"You did not use to be up so late, in the old days."
+
+"Don't think it's the best time either; but--you must do as the rest of
+the world do; swim with the--what is it?--swim with the current."
+
+"How if the current goes the wrong way?"
+
+"Can't help yourself; you must go along, if you are in it."
+
+Dolly was silent, finishing her luncheon. She ate fast and hurriedly.
+Then she pushed her chair away and came round and sat upon her father's
+knee; laying one arm round his neck and looking into his face.
+
+"Father," she said in her clear, musical voice, sweet as a bird's
+notes,--"father, suppose we get out of the current?"
+
+"What current do you mean? It makes a great confusion to try to have
+your meals at a different hour from the rest of the world."
+
+"I don't mean that, father."
+
+"What have you come up to town for?"
+
+"To see about it," said Dolly, with a smile that dimpled her cheeks
+most charmingly, and covered the anxiety she did not want to show.
+
+"To see about what? Dolly, you are grown a woman."
+
+"Yes, father."
+
+"And, I declare you're a beautiful woman, child. It's time we were
+thinking of getting you married."
+
+"You're not in a hurry, are you, father?"
+
+"In a hurry!" said Mr. Copley, gazing at her admiringly. "Why, yes. I
+want you to be married while you can choose your place in the world,
+and enjoy it when you have got it. And you can choose now, Dolly."
+
+"What, sir?"
+
+"Your husband."
+
+"But, father," cried Dolly, while her cheeks covered themselves with
+the most brilliant roses, "I cannot choose what is not presented to my
+choice!"
+
+"No, child; take what _is_. That's what I am thinking of. Good enough
+too. Don't you like the ticket you have drawn?"
+
+"Father," said Dolly, turning the tables now on her side, and laying
+her face in his neck, "I wish you would have nothing to do with
+lotteries or gaming!"
+
+"I have nothing to do with lotteries, child."
+
+"But with gaming?"
+
+"What put such a thing into your head?"
+
+Dolly hesitated, strained him a little closer in her embrace, and did
+not answer directly.
+
+"Father, I wish you would!"
+
+"What folly are you talking, Dolly?" said Mr. Copley angrily. "You are
+meddling with what you do not understand."
+
+But Dolly only clung closer, and having once broken the ice would not
+now give back. She must speak now.
+
+"Father," she said, half sobbing, yet commanding the sobs down, "we are
+getting ruined. We are losing each other. Mother and I live alone--we
+do not see you--we are poor--we have not money to pay our dues--mother
+is not getting better--and I am breaking my heart about her, and about
+you. O father, let us come and live together again."
+
+Dolly got no answer to this outburst, and hardly was conscious that she
+got none, she was so eagerly trying to swallow down the emotion which
+threatened to master her voice. Mr. Copley had no answer ready.
+
+"Father," Dolly began again, "mother wants to travel; she wants to go
+to Venice. Suppose we go?"
+
+"Can't travel without money, Dolly. You say we haven't any."
+
+"Would it cost more to travel than to live as we are living?"
+
+"You say we cannot do that."
+
+"Father, do _you_ say so?"
+
+"I am merely repeating your statements, Dolly, to show you how like a
+child you talk."
+
+"Answer me as if I were a child then, father, and tell me what we can
+do. But _don't_ let us go on living as we are doing!"
+
+"I thought I had done the very best thing possible for your mother,
+when I got her that place down at--I forget what's the name of the
+place."
+
+"Brierley."
+
+"I thought I had done the very best thing for her, when I settled her
+there. Now she is tired of it."
+
+"But father, we cannot pay our way; and it worries her."
+
+"She is always worrying about something or other. If it wasn't that, it
+would be something else. Any man may be straightened for cash now and
+then. It happens to everybody. It is nothing to make a fuss about."
+
+"But, father, if I cannot pay the servants, _they_ must be without cash
+too; and that is hard on poor people."
+
+"Not half so hard as on people above them," replied her father hastily.
+"They have ways and means; and they don't have a tenth or a hundredth
+as many wants, anyhow."
+
+"But those they have are wants of necessary things," urged Dolly.
+
+"Well, what do you want me to do?" said Mr. Copley, with as much of
+harshness in his manner as ever could come out towards Dolly. "I cannot
+coin money for you, well as I would like to do it."
+
+"Father, let us take what we have got, and go to Venice! all together.
+We'll travel ever so cheaply and live ever so plainly; only let us go!
+Only let us go!"
+
+"Think your mother'd like travelling second-class?" said Mr. Copley in
+the same way.
+
+"She wouldn't mind so very much; and I wouldn't mind it at all. If we
+could only go."
+
+"And what is to become of my business?"
+
+Dolly did not dare give the answer that rose to her tongue, nor let her
+father know how much she knew. She came up on another side of the
+subject, and insisted that the consulate might be dispensed with. Mr.
+Copley did not need the office and might well be tired of it by this
+time. Dolly pleaded, and her father heard her with a half embarrassed,
+half sullen face; feeling her affectionate entreaties more than was at
+all convenient, and conscious at the same time of a whole side of his
+life that he would be ashamed his daughter should know; and afraid of
+her guessing it. Alas, for father and child both, when such a state of
+things comes about!
+
+"Come, father!" said Dolly at last, touching her forehead to his
+forehead in a sweet kind of caress,--"I want you."
+
+"Suppose I find somebody else to go with you instead of me?"
+
+"Nobody else will do. Come, father! Do come."
+
+"You might set off with Lawrence," said Mr. Copley as if considering,
+"and I might join you afterwards; at Venice, perhaps, or Nice, or
+somewhere. Hey?"
+
+"That won't do. I would not go with Mr. Lawrence."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Too much of an honour for him."
+
+"You need not be afraid of showing him too much honour, for he is
+willing to give you the greatest man can give to a woman."
+
+Dolly coloured again, and again touched her forehead to her father's
+forehead and sat so, leaning against him. Maybe with an instinct of
+hiding her cheeks.
+
+"Father, let us go to Venice!" she began again, leaving Mr. St. Leger.
+"Just think what fun it would be, to go all together. We have been
+living so long without you. I believe it would just make mother up.
+Think of seeing Venice together, father!--and then maybe we would go on
+to Geneva and get a look at Mont Blanc."
+
+"Geneva is a place for lovers," said Mr. Copley.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Romantic."
+
+"Can't anybody else be romantic, except that sort of people? I am
+romantic,--and I do not care a straw about anybody but mother and you."
+
+"Don't tell Mr. St. Leger that."
+
+"He might as well know it. Come, father! Say you'll go."
+
+It was hard to withstand her. The pure, gentle intonations rang upon
+Mr. Copley's soul almost like bells of doom, because he did withstand
+her. She was his saving good angel; he half knew it; he was ashamed
+before his child, and conscience knocked hard at the door of his heart;
+but the very shame he felt before her made her presence irksome to him,
+while yet it was, oh, so sweet! Alas, "he that doeth evil hateth the
+light." He was entangled in more than one sort of net, and he lacked
+moral power to break the meshes. The gentle fingers that were busy with
+the net, trying to unloose it, were a reproach and a torment to him.
+She _must_ marry St. Leger; so his thoughts ran; it was the best thing
+that could happen to her; it was the best he could do for her. Then she
+would be secure, at all events.
+
+"Dolly, why don't you like Lawrence?" he began.
+
+"He's too handsome, father,--for one thing."
+
+"I never heard of such a reason for a lady's dislike. That's play,
+Dolly."
+
+"And he knows it; there's another thing."
+
+"Well, of course he knows it. How can he help knowing it?"
+
+"And he's too rich."
+
+"Dolly, you are talking nonsense."
+
+"And he knows that."
+
+"He doesn't know he's _too_ rich," said Mr. Copley, with a little
+bitterness. "No St. Leger ever did that."
+
+"Well, father, that's what he is. Very handsome, and very rich. He is
+nothing else. He would suit some people admirably; but he don't suit
+me."
+
+"What sort of thing would suit you?"
+
+"A very perverse sort of a person, who is called Frank Collinshaw
+Copley."
+
+"Well, you've got me," said her father, laughing a little at her. He
+could not help it. "You want something else besides."
+
+"I don't, father, indeed."
+
+"And, my child, money is necessary in this world. You cannot get along
+without money."
+
+"Father, will you come to Venice? and we'll get along with very little
+money. Father, we _must_ go, for mother. The doctor says so, and she is
+just longing to go. We ought to go as soon as ever you can be ready."
+
+"You show how much you know about it, when you talk of Venice and a
+_little_ money! You had better take Mr. St. Leger."
+
+"Father, everybody says living is cheap in Switzerland."
+
+"You talked of Venice."
+
+"And Italy. The doctor says mother ought to stay some time at Nice, or
+Naples. Father, you can arrange it. Do! Give up the consulate, and let
+us take mother to Italy; and then home if you like. I don't much care,
+so that we have you." And again Dolly's forehead bent over to give a
+soft impact to her father's brown brow.
+
+"Who did you come to town with?" he said suddenly. She told him.
+
+"Well, now you had better go back with her, and I will see what I can
+do."
+
+"You will go, father?"
+
+"If I cannot immediately, I will send you and come on after."
+
+"I cannot go without you, father. Oh, come, come!" And Dolly rained
+kisses upon his face, and stroked his forehead and cheeks, and was so
+entirely delicious in her tenderness and her sweetness, her love and
+her anxiety, that the heart of ordinary man could not stand it.
+Anything else became more easy than to refuse her. So Mr. Copley said
+he would go; and received a new harvest of caresses in reward, not
+wholly characterised by the usual drought of harvest-time, for some
+drops of joy and thankfulness still came falling, a sunlit shower.
+
+"Now, my child," said her father, "you had better go back to your good
+housekeeper, and then back to your mother, and get all things ready for
+a start."
+
+"Father, I can stay here to-night, can't I?"
+
+Mr. Copley was not sure that he wanted her; yet he could not refuse to
+make inquiry. There was no difficulty; plenty of room; and Dolly
+joyously prepared herself to gather in the fruits of her victory,
+through that following care and those measures of security for want of
+which many a victory has been won in vain. Mrs. Jersey had long since
+been informed that she need not wait, and had driven away. Dolly now
+sent for her portmanteau, and established herself in her father's
+sitting room.
+
+Mr. Copley looked on, helplessly; half delighted, half bored. He would
+not have chosen to have Dolly there just then; yet being there she was
+one of the most lovely visions that a father's eye could rest upon.
+Grown to be a woman--yes, she was; ordering and arranging things with a
+woman's wisdom and skill; ordering _him_, Mr. Copley felt with a queer
+sensation; and yet, so simple and free and sweet in all her words and
+ways as might have become seven instead of seventeen. St. Leger might
+be glad if he could get her! Yet she was inconvenient to Mr. Copley.
+She stood in his way, like the angel in Balaam's; only not with a sword
+drawn, but with loving looks, and kisses, and graces, and wiles of
+affection; and who could withstand an angel? He gave up trying; he let
+her have her way; and when dinner time came, Dolly and he had an almost
+jovial dinner. Until Mr. Copley rose from table, unlocked a cupboard,
+and took out a bottle of wine. Dolly's heart gave a sudden leap that
+meant a throe of pain. Was there another fight to be fought? How should
+she fight another fight? But the emergency pressed her.
+
+"O father," she cried, "is that sherry?"
+
+"No, it is better," said her father--pouring out a glass,--"it is
+Madeira."
+
+Dolly saw the hand tremble that grasped the bottle, and she sprang up.
+She went round to her father, fell down on her knees before him, and
+laid one hand on the hand that had just seized the glass, the other on
+his shoulder.
+
+"Please, father, don't take it! please don't take it!" she said in
+imploring tones. Mr. Copley paused.
+
+"Not take it? Why not?" said he.
+
+"It is not good for you. I know you ought not to take it, father.
+Please, please, don't!"
+
+Dolly's eagerness and distress were too visible to be disregarded, by
+Mr. Copley at least. Her hand was trembling too. His still held the
+glass, but he looked uncertainly at Dolly, and asked her why it should
+not be good for him? Every gentleman in the land drank wine--that could
+afford it.
+
+"But, father," said Dolly, "can you afford it?"
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Copley. "Get up, Dolly. Here is the wine; it costs no
+more to drink it than to let it alone." And he swallowed the wine in
+the glass at a single draught.
+
+"O father, don't take any more!" cried Dolly, seeing a preparatory
+movement of the hand towards the bottle. "O father! don't, don't! One
+glass is enough. Don't take any more to-day!"
+
+"You talk like a goose, Dolly," said Mr. Copley, filling his glass. "I
+feel better already for that. It has done me good."
+
+"You only think so. It is not doing you good. O father! if you love me,
+put the bottle away. Don't take a drop more!"
+
+Dolly had turned pale in her agony of pleading; and her father,
+conscious in part, and ashamed with that secret consciousness, and
+taken by surprise at her action, looked at her and--did not drink.
+
+"What's the matter with you, child?" he said, trying for an unconcerned
+manner. "Why should not I take wine, like everybody else in the world?"
+
+"Father, it isn't good for people."
+
+"I beg your pardon; it is very good for me. Indeed, I cannot be well
+without it."
+
+"That's the very thing, father; people cannot do without it; and then
+it comes to be the master; and then--they cannot help themselves. Oh,
+do let it alone!"
+
+"What's the matter, Dolly?" Mr. Copley repeated with an air of injury,
+which was at the same time miserably marred by embarrassment. "Do you
+think I cannot help myself? or how am I different from every other
+gentleman who takes wine?"
+
+"Father, a great many of them are ruined by it."
+
+"Well, I am not ruined by it yet."
+
+"Father, how can you tell what might be? Father, I can't bear it!"
+Dolly could not indeed; she broke down. She sat on the floor and sobbed.
+
+If Mr. Copley could have been angry with her; but he could not, she was
+so sweet in every pleading look and tone. If he could have dismissed
+her pleading as the whimsy of a fool; but he could not, for he knew it
+was wise truth. If he had been further gone in the habit which was
+growing upon him, to the point of brutality; but he was not yet; he was
+a man of affectionate nature. So he did not get angry, and though he
+wished Dolly at Brierley instead of in his room, he could not let her
+break her heart, seeing that she was there. He looked at her in
+uncomfortable silence for a minute or two; and then the bitterness of
+Dolly's sobs was more than he could stand. He rose and put the bottle
+away, locked it up, and came back to his place. Dolly's distress
+hindered her knowing what he had done.
+
+"It's gone," Mr. Copley said in an injured tone, as of one oppressed
+and persecuted. "It is put away, Dolly; you need not sit there any
+longer."
+
+Dolly looked up, rose from the floor, came into her father's arms, laid
+her two arms about his neck and her weary head upon his shoulder. It
+was a soft little head, and the action was like a child. Mr. Copley
+clasped her tenderly.
+
+"Dolly," he said,--"my child--you are giving yourself a great deal more
+trouble than you need."
+
+Dolly murmured, "Thank you, father!"
+
+"You mustn't be superstitious."
+
+Alas! Dolly had seen his face already altered by the indulgence of his
+new habits. Involuntarily her arms pressed him closer, and she only by
+an effort prevented a new outbreak of bitter sorrow. That was not best
+just now. She put a force upon herself; after a while looked up, and
+kissed her father; kissed him again and again.
+
+"I declare!" said Mr. Copley, half delighted and half
+conscience-stricken, "you are a little witch, Dolly. Is this the way
+you are going to rule other folks beside me? Mr. St. Leger, for
+instance?"
+
+"Mercy, father! no," said Dolly, recoiling.
+
+"I don't believe he would be hard to manage. He's desperately in love
+with you, Dolly."
+
+"Father, I don't want to manage. And I don't think Lawrence is in any
+danger. It isn't in him to be desperate about anything."
+
+"So much the better, I think," said her father. "What if he should want
+to go with us to Venice?"
+
+"Don't let him! We do not want him."
+
+"He would be useful, I daresay. And I should have to take my secretary,
+Dolly."
+
+"Take that other fellow, the one I saw in your office to-day."
+
+"What, Babbage? He's a raw article, Dolly, very raw. I put him there to
+answer questions. The fellow was in a forlorn state here with nothing
+to do."
+
+They calmed down after a while; and the rest of the evening was largely
+spent in considering plans and details of their projected movements. It
+was agreed that Dolly should rejoin Mrs. Jersey the next day, to be
+ready to return to Brierley with her; that then all preparations should
+be made for a speedy start to the Continent. Father and daughter talked
+themselves into ordinary composure, and when they had bid each other
+good night, Dolly went to rest with a feeling of some hopefulness.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+RUPERT.
+
+Mrs. Jersey could not leave town the next day. Dolly had to wait. It
+was hard waiting. She half wished she had stayed that day also with her
+father; yet when she asked herself why?--she shuddered. To take care of
+him? to watch and keep guard over him? What use, for one day, when she
+could do it no longer? Mr. Copley must be left to himself; and a
+feeling of helplessness stole over her. From the momentary
+encouragement and hope, she fell back again to take a more
+comprehensive view of the subject; she saw that all was not gained yet,
+and it might be that nothing! And she could do no more, except pray.
+Poor Dolly did that; but the strain of fear, the horror of shame, the
+grief of hurt affection, began to make her very sore. She was not
+getting accustomed to her burden; it was growing more insupportably
+galling; the only hope for the whole family lay in getting together and
+remaining together, and in this journey taking Mr. Copley away from his
+haunts and his tempters. Yet Dolly reflected with trembling that the
+temptation, both temptations, would meet them on their way; if a man
+desired to drink or to play, he would never be at a loss for the
+opportunity or the companions. Dolly wrung her hands and prayed again.
+
+However, something was gained; and Dolly on her return reported to her
+mother that they were to set off for the Continent in a few days. She
+brought down money, moreover, to pay off the servants; and with a heart
+so far lightened, went bravely at the preparations to be made.
+
+"And will your father go with us to Venice?"
+
+"Of course, mother. We cannot go without him."
+
+"What if Venice shouldn't agree with me?"
+
+"Oh, then we'll go on further. I think Naples would agree with you.
+There is a very nice house at Sorrento--nice people--where Lady
+Brierley spent a summer; and Mrs. Jersey has given me the address.
+Perhaps we'll go there."
+
+"But if Lady Brierley was there, I guess it's an expensive place."
+
+"No, Mrs. Jersey says not. You must have what you want anyhow, mother
+dear."
+
+"I always used," said poor Mrs. Copley; "but of late I have been
+obliged to sing another tune."
+
+"Go back to the old tune, then, dear. If father hasn't got the money,
+I'll find some way of raising it myself. I mean you shall go to
+Sorrento. Mrs. Jersey says it's just charming there."
+
+"I wonder what she knows about it! A housekeeper! Queer person to tell
+you and me where to go."
+
+"Why, a finger-post can do that, mother. Mrs. Jersey knows a great deal
+besides, about a great many things."
+
+"Well!" Mrs. Copley said again with another sigh--"it is new times to
+me altogether. And I wish the old times would come back!"
+
+"Perhaps they will, mother. When once we get hold of father again, we
+must try to charm him into staying with us."
+
+And it seemed to Dolly that they might do so much. The spirit of
+seventeen is not easily kept down; and with the stir of actually
+getting ready for the journey, she felt her hope and courage moving
+also. A change at any rate was before her; and Dolly had a faint,
+far-off thought of possibly working upon her father to induce him at
+the close of their Italian journey to take ship for home.
+
+So she bustled about from morning till night; packed what was to go and
+what was to be left; grew very cheery over her work, and cheered and
+amused her mother. September was on its way now; it was time to be off;
+and Dolly wrote to her father to tell him she was ready.
+
+A few days later, Dolly was in the porch resting and eating a fine
+pear, which came out of a basket Mrs. Jersey had sent. It was
+afternoon, sunny and hazy, the air fragrant from the woods, the silence
+now and then emphasised by a shot somewhere in the distance. Dolly was
+happy and hopeful; the weather was most lovely, the pear was excellent;
+she was having a pleasant half hour of musing and anticipation.
+Somebody came on foot along the road, swung open the small lattice
+gate, and advanced up the path towards her.
+
+Who was it? Not Mr. St. Leger, which had been Dolly's first momentary
+fear. No, this was a different creature. A young man, but how unlike
+that other. St. Leger was trim-built, smooth, regular, comely; this
+young fellow was lank, long-limbed, none of his joints played
+symmetrically with the others; and the face, though shrewd enough and
+good-natured, had no remote pretensions to beauty. His dress had not
+been cut by the sort of tailor that worked for the St. Legers; his
+gait, instead of the firm, compact, confident movement which Dolly was
+accustomed to see, had a swinging stride, which indeed did not lack a
+kind of confidence; the kind that makes no doubt of getting over the
+ground, and cares little for obstacles. As Dolly looked, she thought
+she had seen him before. But it was very odd, nevertheless, the sort of
+well-pleased smile his face wore. He took off his hat when he got to
+the foot of the steps, and stood there looking up at Dolly in the porch.
+
+"You don't recollect me, I guess," said he.
+
+"No," said Dolly gravely.
+
+"I am Rupert Babbage. And _that_ don't make you much wiser, does it?"
+
+"No," said Dolly. "Not at all."
+
+"Likely. But Mr. Copley has sent me down."
+
+"Has he?"
+
+"I recollect you first-rate," the stranger went on, feeling in his coat
+pocket for something and producing therefrom a letter. "Don't you know
+the day you came to your father's office?" And mounting a step or two,
+without further preface he handed the letter to Dolly. Dolly saw her
+father's handwriting, her own name on the cover, and put a stop to the
+wonder which was creeping over her, by breaking the seal. While she
+read the letter the young man's eyes read her face.
+
+
+
+"DEAR DOLLY,--
+
+"I can't get quit of this confounded Babel yet--and you must want
+somebody badly. So I send Rupert down. He'll do everything you want,
+better in fact than I could, for he is young and spry, and as good a
+boy as lives. He will see to everything, and you can get off as soon as
+you like. I think he had better go along all the way; his mother wit is
+worth a dozen stupid couriers, even though he don't know quite so much
+about routes and hotels; he will soon pick all that up. Will you want
+to stay more than a night in town? For that night my landlady can take
+you in; and if you let me know when you will be ready I will have your
+passage taken in the packet.
+
+"Hurried, as always, dear Dolly, with my love to your mother,
+
+"F. C. COPLEY,
+
+"CONSUL'S OFFICE LONDON,
+
+"_Sept_. 9, 182-."
+
+
+
+Poor Dolly read this note over and over, having thrown away the
+remainder of her sweet pear as belonging only to a time of easy
+pleasure-taking which was past. Was her father not coming to Brierley
+then? she must get off without him? Why? And "_your_ passage"! why not
+"our" passage? Dolly felt the ground giving way under her feet. No, her
+father could not be coming to Brierley, or he would not have sent this
+young fellow. And all things in the world were hovering in uncertainty;
+nothing sure even to hope.
+
+The eyes that watched her saw the face change, the fair, bright, young
+face; saw her colour pale, and the lovely lines of the lips droop for a
+moment to an expression of great sadness. The eyelids drooped too, and
+he was sure there was a glistening under them.
+
+"Did Mr. Copley say why he could not come?" she asked at length,
+lifting her head.
+
+"He did not. I am very sorry!" said Rupert involuntarily. "I guess he
+could not get his business fixed. And he said you were in a hurry."
+
+But not without him! thought Dolly. What was the whole movement for, if
+he were to be left out of it? What should she do? But she must not let
+the tears come. That would do nobody any good, not even herself. She
+brushed away the undue moisture, and raised her head.
+
+"Did Mr. Copley tell you who I am?" the young man asked. "I guess he
+didn't forget that."
+
+"No. Yes!" said Dolly, unable to help smiling at the question and the
+simple earnestness of the questioner's face. "He told me your name."
+
+"Left you to find out the rest?" said he. "Well, what can I do first?
+That's what for I'm come."
+
+"I don't think there is anything to do," said Dolly.
+
+"All ready?"
+
+"Yes. Pretty much. All except finishing."
+
+"Lots o' baggage?"
+
+"No, not so very much. We did not bring a great deal down here."
+
+"Then it'll go by the coach easy enough. How will it get to the coach?"
+
+"I don't know. We must have a waggon from the village, I suppose, or
+from some farmhouse."
+
+"When do you want to go? and I'll soon fix that."
+
+Dolly reflected and said, "The day after to-morrow."
+
+"All right."
+
+He was setting forth immediately, with a world of energy in his gait.
+Dolly called after him.
+
+"To-morrow will be time enough for the waggon, Mr. Babbage."
+
+"There'll be something else for to-morrow," he answered without pausing.
+
+"Tea'll be ready at six," said Dolly, raising her voice a little.
+
+"All right!" said he, and sped away.
+
+Dolly looked after him, so full of vexation that she did not know what
+to do. Not her father, and in his place this boy! This boy to go with
+them on the journey; to be one of the party; to be always on hand; for
+he could not be relegated to the place of a servant or a courier. And
+Dolly wanted her father, and was sure that the expense of a fourth
+person might have been spared. The worst fear of all she would not look
+at; it was possible that they were still to be three, and her father,
+the fourth, left out. However, for the present the matter in hand was
+action; she must tell her mother about this new arrival before she met
+him at supper. Dolly went in.
+
+"Your father not coming?" said Mrs. Copley when she had heard Dolly's
+report. "Then we have nothing to wait for, and we can get right off. I
+do want to see your father out of that miserable office once!"
+
+"Well, he promised me, mother," said Dolly, sighing.
+
+"Can we go to-morrow?"
+
+"No, mother; there are too many last things to do. Next day we will."
+
+"Why can't we go and leave this young man to finish up after us?"
+
+"He could not do it, mother; and we must let father know, besides."
+
+Rupert came back in due time and was presented to Mrs. Copley; but Mrs.
+Copley did not admire his looks, and the supper-table party was very
+silent. The silence became unbearable to the new-comer; and though he
+was not without a certain shyness in Dolly's presence, it became at
+last easier to speak than to go on eating and not speaking.
+
+"Plenty of shootin' round about here, I s'pose," he remarked. "I heard
+the guns going."
+
+"The preserves of Brierley are very full of game," Dolly answered; "and
+there are some friends of Lord Brierley staying at the house."
+
+"I engaged a waggon," Rupert went on. "It'll be here at one, sharp."
+
+"I ought to have sent a word to the post-office, for father, when you
+went to the village; but I did not think till it was too late."
+
+"I did that," said Rupert.
+
+"Sent a word to father?"
+
+"All right. Told him you'd be up on Wednesday."
+
+"Oh, thank you. That was very thoughtful."
+
+"You're from America," said Mrs. Copley.
+
+"Should think I was!"
+
+"Whereabouts? where from, I mean?"
+
+"About two miles from your place--Ortonville is the spot. My native."
+
+"What made you come over here?"
+
+"Well, I s'pose it would be as true as anything to say, Mr. Copley made
+me come."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"Well, I guess it was kindness. Most likely."
+
+"Kindness!" echoed Mrs. Copley. "Poor kindness, I call it, to take a
+man, or a boy, or any one else, away from his natural home. Haven't you
+found it so? Don't you wish you were back there again?"
+
+"Well," said Rupert with a little slowness, and a twinkle in his eye at
+the same time,--"I just don't; if I'm to tell the truth."
+
+"It is incomprehensible to me!" returned the lady. "Why, what do you
+find here, that you would not have had at home?"
+
+"England, for one thing," said the young man with a smile.
+
+"England! Of course you would not have had England at home; but isn't
+America better?"
+
+"I think it is."
+
+"Then what do you gain by exchanging one for the other?" said Mrs.
+Copley with heat.
+
+"That exchange ain't made yet. I calculate to go back, when I have got
+all I want on this side."
+
+"And what do you want? Money, I suppose. Everything is for money, with
+everybody. Country, and family, and the ease of life, and the pleasure
+of being together--nothing matters, if only one may get money! I don't
+know but savages have the best of it. At least they don't live for
+money."
+
+Mrs. Copley forgot at the moment that she was wishing her daughter to
+marry for money.
+
+"I counsel you, young man," she began again. "Money won't buy
+everything."
+
+He laughed good-humouredly. "Can't buy much without it," he said, with
+that shrewd twinkle in his eye.
+
+"And what can Mr. Copley do for you, I should like to know?" she went
+on impatiently.
+
+"He's put me in a likely way," said Rupert. "I am very much beholden to
+Mr. Copley. But the best thing he has done for me is this--by a long
+jump."
+
+"_This?_ What?"
+
+"Letting me go along this journey. I do _not_ think money is the very
+best of all things," the young man said with some spirit.
+
+"Letting you---- Do you mean that you are going to Venice in our party?"
+
+"If it is Venice you are going to."
+
+Silence fell. Mrs. Copley pondered the news in some consternation. To
+Dolly it was not news, and she did not mean it should be fact, if she
+could help it.
+
+"Perhaps you have business in Venice?" Mrs. Copley at length ventured.
+
+"I hope it'll turn out so," said Rupert. "Mr. Copley said I might have
+the pleasure of taking care of you. I should enjoy that, I guess, more
+than making money."
+
+"Good gracious!" was all the speech Mrs. Copley was capable of. She sat
+and looked at the young man. So, furtively, did Dolly. He was enjoying
+his supper; yes, and the prospect too; for a slight flush had risen to
+his face. It was not a symmetrical face, but honesty was written in
+every line of it.
+
+"You've got your plans fixed?" Rupert next inquired. "Know just which
+way you are going? Be sure you are right, and then go ahead, you know."
+
+"We take the boat to Rotterdam," said Dolly.
+
+"Which way, then? Mr. Copley told me so much."
+
+"I don't know," said Mrs. Copley. "If I could once get hold of Mr.
+Copley we could soon settle it."
+
+"What points do you want to make?"
+
+"Points? I don't want to make any points. I don't know what you mean."
+
+"I mean, where do you want to go in special, between here and Venice?
+or are there no places you care about?"
+
+"Places? Oh!--Well, yes, there are. I should like to see the place
+where the battle of Waterloo was fought."
+
+"Mother, that would be out of our way," said Dolly.
+
+"Which is our way?" said Mrs. Copley. "I thought we had not fixed it."
+
+"You don't go up the Rhine, then?" said Rupert.
+
+"I'm going nowhere by boat except where I can't help myself. I like to
+feel land under me. No, we are not going up the Rhine. I can see
+mountains enough in America, and rivers enough too."
+
+Rupert had finished his supper, and took up an atlas he saw lying near.
+
+"Rotterdam," he said, opening at the map of Central Europe,--"that is
+our one fixed point, that and Venice. Now, how to get from the one to
+the other."
+
+Mrs. Copley changed her seat to come nearer the map; and an animated
+discussion followed, which kept her interested and happy the whole of
+the evening. Dolly saw it and was thankful. It was more satisfactory
+than the former consultation with St. Leger, who treated the subject
+from quite too high and lordly a point of view; referring to the best
+hotels and assuming the easiest ways of doing things; flinging money
+about him, in imagination, as Mrs. Copley said, as if it were coming
+out of a purse with no bottom to it; which to be sure might be very
+true so far as he was concerned, but much discomposed the poor woman
+who knew that on her part such pleasant freehandedness was not to be
+thought of. Rupert Babbage evidently did not think of it. He considered
+economy. Besides, he was not so distractingly _au fait_ in everything;
+Mrs. Copley could bear a part in the conversation. So she and Rupert
+meandered over the map, talked endlessly, took a vast deal of pleasure
+in the exercise, and grew quite accustomed to each other; while Dolly
+sat by, glad and yet chafing. Rupert certainly was a comfort, for the
+hour; but she wished he had never been thought of, nevertheless.
+
+But he was a comfort next day again. Cheery and busy and efficient, he
+managed people, sent the luggage off, helped and waited upon Mrs.
+Copley, and kept her quiet with his talk, up to the time when the third
+day they took their places in the coach.
+
+"Really, Mr. Babbage, you are a very handy young man!" Mrs. Copley once
+had uttered her admiration; and Rupert laughed.
+
+"I shouldn't think much of myself," he said, "if I couldn't do as much
+as that. You see, I consider that I'm promoted."
+
+Dolly made the journey up to town in a state between relief and
+disgust. Rupert did take a world of trouble off her hands; but she said
+to herself that she did not want it taken off. And she certainly did
+not want this long-legged fellow attending upon them everywhere. It was
+better to have him than St. Leger; that was all you could say.
+
+The days in London were few and busy. Mr. Copley during this interval
+was very affectionate, very kind and attentive; in fact, so attentive
+to supplying or providing against every possible want that he found
+little time to be with his family. He and Rupert were perpetually
+flying out and in, ordering this and searching for that; a sort of
+joyous bustle seemed to be the order of the day; for he carried it on
+gleefully.
+
+"Why, Mr. Copley," his wife said, when he brought her an elegant little
+leather case for holding the tinctures and medicines in which she
+indulged, "I thought we must economise so hard? I thought you had no
+money now-a-days? How is this, and what does it mean? this case must
+have cost a pound."
+
+"You are worth more than a pound, my dear," Mr. Copley said with a sort
+of semi-earnestness.
+
+"But I thought you were so poor all of a sudden?"
+
+"We are going to turn a new leaf, and live frugally; so you see, on the
+strength of that, we can afford to be extravagant now and then."
+
+"That seems to me a very doubtful way, Mr. Copley," said his wife,
+shaking her head.
+
+"Don't be doubtful, my dear. Whatever else you do, go straight to your
+mark, and don't be doubtful. Humming and hawing never get on with
+anything. Care killed a cat, my dear."
+
+"It has almost killed me," said poor Mrs. Copley. "Are we out of need
+of care, Frank?"
+
+"_You_ are. I'll take all the care for the family. My dear, we are
+going in for play, and Venice."
+
+Dolly heard this, and felt a good deal cheered. What was her
+consternation, then, when the day of sailing came, and at the last
+minute, on board the packet, her father declared he must wait; he could
+not leave London yet for a week or two, but he could not let _them_ be
+delayed; he would let St. Leger go to look after them, and he would
+catch them up before they got to Venice. All this was said in a breath,
+in a rush and hurry, at the moment of taking leave; the luggage was on
+board, Rupert was looking after it, Mr. St. Leger's elegant figure was
+just stepping across the gangway; and Mr. Copley kissed and shook hands
+and was off, with a word to Lawrence as he passed, before Mrs. Copley
+or Dolly could throw in more than an exclamation of dismay to stop him.
+Stop him! one might as well stop a gust of wind. Dolly saw he had
+planned it all; reckoned the minutes, got them off on purpose without
+himself, and _with_ Mr. St. Leger. And here was Mr. St. Leger to be
+spoken to; coming up with his assured step and his handsome, indolent
+blue eyes, to address her mother. St. Leger was a nice fellow; he was
+neither a fool nor a coxcomb; but the sight of him was very
+disagreeable to Dolly just then. She turned away, as full of vexation
+as she could hold, and went to Rupert's side, who was looking after the
+luggage.
+
+"Do you want to see your berth right away?" he asked her.
+
+"My berth?" said Dolly.
+
+"Well, yes; your cabin--state-room--whatever you call it--where you are
+to sleep. You know which it is; do you know where it is? I always like
+to get such things straightened out, first thing. Would you like to see
+it?"
+
+"Oh yes, please," said Dolly; and grasping one of the hand-bags she
+turned away gladly from the deck. Anything for a little respite and
+solitude, from Mr. St. Leger. Rupert found the place, stowed bags and
+wraps and rugs conveniently away, and made Dolly as much at home as she
+could be at five minutes' notice.
+
+"How long will the passage take?" she asked.
+
+"Well, if I knew what the weather would be, I would tell you. Shall you
+be sick?"
+
+"I don't know," said Dolly. "I believe I wish I may. Mr. Babbage, are
+you a Christian?"
+
+"Well, I ain't a heathen, anyhow," said he, laughing a little.
+
+"No, but that isn't what I mean. Of course you are not a heathen. But I
+mean--do you serve the Lord Jesus, and do you love Him?"
+
+Dolly had it not in mind to make a confidant of her new squire; but in
+the terrible confusion and trouble of her spirits she grasped at any
+possible help or stay. The excitement of the minute lifted her quite
+out of ordinary considerations; if Rupert was a Christian, he might be
+a stand-by to her, and anyhow would understand her. So she asked. But
+he looked at her and shook his head. The thought crossed him that he
+was _her_ servant, and her service was all that he was distinctly
+pledged to in his own mind. He shook his head.
+
+"Then what do you do when you are in trouble?" she asked.
+
+"Never been there," said Rupert. "Always find some way out, when I get
+into a fix. Why, are you in trouble?" he asked sympathetically.
+
+"Oh," cried Dolly, "I am in trouble to death, because father hasn't
+come with us!" She could bear it no longer; even seventeen years old
+gives out sometimes; she burst into tears and sat down on a box and
+sobbed. All her hopes dashed to pieces; all her prospects dark and
+confused; nothing but disappointment and perplexity before her. What
+should she do with her mother, she alone? What should she do with Mr.
+St. Leger? a still more vexatious question. And what would become of
+her father, left to himself, and at what possible time in the future
+might she hope that he would break away from his ties and temptations
+and come to rejoin his family? Dolly sobbed in sorrow and bitterness of
+heart. Rupert Babbage stood and looked on wofully; and then delicately
+went out and closed the door.
+
+Dolly's tears did her good. I think it was a help to her too, to know
+that she had so efficient and faithful a servant in the despised Rupert
+Babbage. At any rate, after a half hour or so, she made her appearance
+on deck and met Mr. St. Leger with a calm apparent unconcern, which
+showed her again equal to the occasion. Circumstances were making a
+woman of Dolly fast.
+
+Mr. St. Leger's talk had in the meantime quieted Mrs. Copley. He
+assured her that her husband would soon come after and catch up with
+them. Now he turned his attention to Dolly and Rupert.
+
+"Who is that fellow?" he asked Dolly, when Rupert had left them for a
+minute.
+
+"He is a young man in my father's office. Did you never see him there?"
+
+"But what is he doing _here?_ We do not want him, it strikes me."
+
+"He is very useful, and able."
+
+"Well--aw--but cannot he keep his good qualities to their proper
+sphere? He is not an addition of much value to our society."
+
+"Take care, Mr. St. Leger! He is an American; he cannot be set down
+with the servants."
+
+"Why not, if his education and habits make that his place?"
+
+"Oh, but they do not."
+
+"It seems to me they do, if you will pardon me. This fellow has never
+been in any gentleman's society, except your father's."
+
+"He will be a gentleman himself, in all essentials, one day, Mr. St.
+Leger. There is the difference. The capability is in him, and the
+ambition, and the independent and generous feeling. The foundations are
+all there."
+
+"I'll confess the house when I see it."
+
+"Ay, but you must in the meantime do nothing to hinder its building."
+
+"Why must not I?" said Lawrence, laughing. "It is not my part to lay
+hold on a trowel and be a social mason. Still less is it yours."
+
+"Oh, there you are wrong. I think it is everybody's part."
+
+"Do you? But fancy, what a dreadful thing life would be in that way.
+Perpetual rubbish and confusion. And pardon me--can you pardon
+me?--that is my idea of America."
+
+"I do not think it is a just one," said Dolly, as Rupert now drew near
+again.
+
+"Is there not perpetual building going on there, of this kind as well
+as of the more usual?"
+
+"Perhaps. I was very young when I left home. But what then?"
+
+"Nothing. I have a preference for order and quiet, and things in their
+places."
+
+"At that rate, you know," said Dolly, "nothing would ever have been
+built anywhere. I grant you, the order and quiet are pleasant when your
+own house is all that you desire. But don't you want to see your
+neighbour's house come up?"
+
+"No," said Lawrence, laughing. "I have a better prospect from my
+windows if he remains as he is."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+A SQUARE PARTY.
+
+The passage was stormy and long. Mrs. Copley and her daughter were both
+soon fully occupied with attending to their own sensations; and neither
+Rupert nor Lawrence had any more power to annoy them till they reached
+quiet water again. But even in the depths of sea misery, Dolly's deeper
+distress broke forth. "My father! my father! What shall I do to save my
+father!" she was crying in her heart; all the while with a sense that
+every hour was bringing her further from him and from the chance of
+saving him.
+
+Still, Dolly was seventeen; and at seventeen one cannot be always cast
+down; and when rough water and troubled skies, and ship noises and
+smells, were all left behind, as it seemed, in the German ocean, and
+Dolly found herself one morning in the hotel at Rotterdam, eating a
+very good breakfast, her spirits sprang up in spite of herself. The
+retiring wave of bodily misery carried with it for the moment all
+other. The sun was shining again; and after breakfast they stood
+together at one of the windows looking out upon the new world they had
+come to. Their hotel faced the quay: they saw before them an extent of
+water glittering in the sunshine, steamers waiting for their time of
+sailing, small craft flying about in all directions, and activity,
+bustle, and business filling every nook and corner of the scene.
+Dolly's heart leaped up; the stir was very inspiriting; and how lovely
+the sunshine was, and how pleasant the novelty! And then, to think that
+she had but touched the shore of novelty; that all Central Europe was
+behind her as she stood looking out on the quay!--Her father would
+surely catch them up somewhere, and then all would go well. She was
+silent, in the full joy of seeing.
+
+"What's the next move?" said Lawrence. He did not care for Rotterdam
+quay. He had been looking at Dolly, charmed with the delicate, fresh
+picture she made. The line of frank pleasure on her lips, it was as
+frank as a child's, and the eyes were as absorbed; and yet they were
+grave, womanly eyes, he knew, not easy to cheat, with all their
+simplicity. The mingling of qualities was delicious, and not to be
+found elsewhere in all his sphere of experience. Even her little hands
+were full of character, with a certain precision of action and calm of
+repose which gave to all their movements a certain thorough-bred grace,
+which Lawrence could recognise though he could not analyse. Then the
+little head with its masses of wavy hair was so lovely, and the slim
+figure so full of that same certainty of action and grace of rest which
+he admired; there was nothing undecided about Dolly, and yet there was
+nothing done by rule. That again was a combination he did not know
+elsewhere. Her dress--he considered that too. It was the simplest of
+travelling dresses, with nothing to mark it, or draw attention, or make
+it unfit for its special use--in perfectly good taste. How did she
+know? thought Lawrence; for he knew as well as I do that she had not
+learned it of her mother. There was nothing marked about Mrs. Copley's
+appearance; nevertheless she lacked that harmony of simple good taste
+which was all over Dolly. Lawrence looked, until he saw that Rupert was
+looking too; and then he thought it was time to break up the exercise.
+"What is the next move?" he said.
+
+"We have not settled that," said Dolly. "We could think of nothing on
+board ship. Mother, dear, now we are here, which way shall we go?"
+
+"I don't know anything about ways," said Mrs. Copley. "Not here in this
+strange country."
+
+"Then put it another way," said Lawrence. "Where do you want to go?"
+
+"Why, to Venice," said Mrs. Copley, looking at him.
+
+"Of course; but you want to see something by the way?"
+
+"I left all that to Mr. Copley," said she, half whimpering. "When do
+you think he will come, Mr. St. Leger? I depended on my husband."
+
+"He will come soon," said Lawrence. "But I would not recommend staying
+in Rotterdam to wait for him. What do you say to our asking him to meet
+us in Wiesbaden? To be sure, the season is over."
+
+"Wiesbaden?" said Mrs. Copley.
+
+"Wiesbaden?" cried Dolly. "Oh no, Mr. St. Leger! Not there, nor in any
+such place!"
+
+"The season is over, Miss Dolly."
+
+"I don't want to go to Wiesbaden. Mother, you wanted to see
+something--what was it?"
+
+"Waterloo"---- Mrs. Copley began.
+
+"That would take us out of the way of everything--down into
+Belgium--and you would not see anything when you got there, Mrs.
+Copley. Only some fields; there is nothing left of the battle."
+
+"But if I saw the fields, I could imagine the battle," said Mrs. Copley.
+
+"Could you? Let us imagine something pleasanter. You don't want to go
+up the Rhine?"
+
+"I don't want to go anywhere in a boat, Mr. St. Leger. I am going to
+keep on land, now I've got there. But I was thinking.--Somebody told me
+of some wonderful painted glass, somewhere near Rotterdam, and told me
+not to miss seeing it. Where is it?"
+
+"I know," said Dolly; "the place was Gonda; in the cathedral. But where
+is Gonda?"
+
+"Nine miles off," said Rupert.
+
+"Then that's where I want to go," said Mrs. Copley. "I have heard all
+my life of painted glass; now I should like to see what it amounts to."
+
+"Perhaps that would take us out of our way too, mother."
+
+"I thought we just said we had no way settled," said Mrs. Copley in an
+irritated tone. "What's the use of being here, if we can't see anything
+now we are here? Nine miles isn't much, anyhow."
+
+"We will go there, dear," said Dolly. "We can go so far and come back
+to this place, if necessary."
+
+"And there is another thing I want to see, now we are here," Mrs.
+Copley went on. "I want to go to Dresden."
+
+"Dresden!" cried St. Leger. "What's at Dresden?"
+
+"A great many things, I suppose; but what I want to see is the Green
+vaults and the picture gallery."
+
+"Mrs. Copley," said Lawrence quietly, "there are galleries of pictures
+everywhere. We shall find them at every step--more than you will want
+to look at, by a hundred fold."
+
+"But we shall not find Green vaults, shall we? And you will not tell me
+that the Dresden madonna is anywhere but at Dresden?"
+
+"I did not know you cared so much about pictures, mother," Dolly
+ventured.
+
+"I don't!" said Mrs. Copley,--"not about the pictures; but I don't like
+to be here and not see what there is to see. I like to say I have seen
+it. It would be absurd to be here and not see things. Your father told
+me to go just where I wanted to; and if I don't go to Waterloo, I want
+to see Dresden."
+
+"And from there?" said Lawrence.
+
+"I don't know. I suppose we can find our way from there to Venice
+somehow."
+
+"But do you not include Cologne Cathedral in the things you wish to
+see?"
+
+"Cologne? I don't know about cathedrals. We are going to see one now,
+aren't we? Isn't one as good as another?"
+
+"To pray in, I have no doubt," said Lawrence; "but hardly to look at."
+
+"Well, you don't think churches ought to be built to look at, do you? I
+think that is wicked. Churches are meant for something."
+
+"You would not object to looking at them when they _are_ built? would
+you? Here we are now, going to see Gonda Cathedral."
+
+"No, I am not," said Mrs. Copley. "I am going to see the glass windows.
+We shall not see them to-day if we stand here talking."
+
+Lawrence ordered a carriage, and the party set out. He wished devoutly
+that it had numbered five instead of four, so that Rupert could have
+been sent outside. But the carnage held them all comfortably.
+
+Dolly was a little uneasy at the travelling problem before her;
+however, no uneasiness could stand long against the charm of that
+morning's drive. The blessed familiar sun shone on a world so very
+different from all the world she had ever known before. On every hand
+were flower gardens; on both sides of the way; and in the midst of the
+flower gardens stood pleasant-looking country houses; while the road
+was bordered with narrow canals, over which drawbridges of extravagant
+size led to the houses. It was a rich and quaint and pretty landscape
+under the September sun; and Dolly felt all concern and annoyance
+melting away from her. She saw that her mother too was amused and
+delighted. Surely things would come out right by and by.
+
+The town interested three of the party in a high degree.
+
+"Well!" said Mrs. Copley, "haven't they learned here _yet_ to turn the
+front of their houses to the street?"
+
+"Perhaps they never will," said Lawrence. "Why should they?"
+
+"Because things ought to be right, if it is only the fronts of houses,"
+said the lady.
+
+"I wouldn't mind which _way_ they looked, if they would only hold up
+straight," said Rupert. "What ails the town?"
+
+"Bad soil, most likely," returned Lawrence. "The foundations of Holland
+are moral, not physical."
+
+"What do you mean by that?" said Mrs. Copley. "I am sure they have
+plenty of money. Is this the cathedral we are coming to?"
+
+"St. Jans Kirk ."
+
+"Well, if that's all!--It isn't handsome a bit!"
+
+"It's real homely, that's a fact," said Rupert.
+
+"You came to see the glass windows," said Lawrence. "Let us go in, and
+then pass judgment."
+
+They went in, and then a low exclamation from Rupert was all that was
+heard. The ladies were absolutely mute before the blaze of beauty that
+met them.
+
+"Well!" said Rupert after a pause of deep silence--"now I know what
+folks mean when they say something 'beats the Dutch.' That beats all
+_I_ ever saw!--hollow."
+
+"But how delicious!" exclaimed Dolly. "The work is so delicate. And oh,
+the colours! Mother, do you see that purple? Who is the person
+represented there, Mr. St. Leger?"
+
+"That is Philip the Second. And it is not likely, I may remark, that
+any Dutchman painted it. That broken window was given to the church by
+Philip."
+
+"Who did paint it, then?"
+
+"I cannot say, really."
+
+"What a pity it is broken!"
+
+"But the others are mostly in very good keeping. Come on--here is the
+Duke of Alva."
+
+"If I were a Dutch woman, I would break that," said Dolly.
+
+"No, you wouldn't. Consider--he serves as an adornment of the city
+here. Breaking his effigy would not be breaking _him_, Miss Dolly."
+
+"It must be a very strange thing to live in an old country," said
+Dolly. "I mean, if you belong to it. Just look at these windows!--How
+old is the work itself, Mr. St. Leger?"
+
+"I am not wise in such things;--I should say it must date from the best
+period of the art. I believe it is said so."
+
+"And when was that?"
+
+"Really, I don't know; a good while ago, Miss Dolly."
+
+"Philip II. came to reign about the middle of the sixteenth century,"
+Rupert remarked.
+
+"Exactly," St. Leger said, looking annoyed.
+
+"Well, sir," Rupert went on, "I would like to ask you one thing--can't
+they paint as good a glass window now as they could then?"
+
+"They may paint a better glass window, for aught I know," said
+Lawrence; "but the painting will not be so good."
+
+"That's curious," said Rupert. "I thought things went for'ard, and not
+back, in the world. Why shouldn't they paint as well now as ever?"
+
+Nobody spoke.
+
+"Why should they not, Mr. St. Leger?" Dolly repeated.
+
+"I don't know, I'm sure. Mrs. Copley, I'm afraid you are fatiguing
+yourself."
+
+Mrs. Copley yielded to this gentle suggestion; and long, long before
+Dolly was ready to go, the party left the church to repair to a hotel,
+and have some refreshment. They were all in high spirits by this time.
+
+"Is it settled where we are to go next?" Mr. St. Leger inquired as they
+sat at table.
+
+"I don't care where _next_," said Mrs. Copley; "but only I want to come
+out at Dresden."
+
+"But Dresden, mother"--said Dolly gently, "it is not in our way to
+Venice." She interpreted the expression she saw in Lawrence's face.
+
+"Dolly, the Green vaults are in Dresden. I am not going to be so near
+and not see them. Wasn't I right about the painted windows? I never saw
+anything so beautiful in my life, nor you didn't. I wouldn't have
+missed it for anything. Now you'll see if I ain't right about the Green
+vaults."
+
+"What do you expect to find in them?" Lawrence asked. "I do not
+remember anything about such a mysterious place."
+
+"I have heard about it in London," Mrs. Copley answered. "Somebody who
+had been there told me about it, and I made up my mind I'd see it if
+ever I got a chance. It is like having Aladdin's lamp and going down
+into _his_ vault--only you can't take away what you've a mind to;
+that's the only difference."
+
+"But what is there? Aladdin's grotto was full of precious stones, if I
+remember."
+
+"And so are these," cried Mrs. Copley. "There is an egg with a hen in
+it."
+
+At this there was a general laugh.
+
+"It's a fact," said Mrs. Copley. "And in the hen, or under it--_in_ the
+hen, I believe--there is a crown of gold and diamonds and pearls, with
+a motto. Oh, it's wonderful. It's better than the Arabian Nights, if
+it's true."
+
+"Except that we cannot take the egg away with us," said Lawrence.
+"However--pray, do they let in the indiscriminate public to see these
+wonders?"
+
+"I don't know. I suppose there are ways to get in, or nobody would have
+been in."
+
+"No doubt; the problem is, to find the way. Influence may be necessary,
+possibly."
+
+"I daresay Mr. Copley can manage it. Do write and ask him what we must
+do, Dolly; and ask him to send us letters, or leave, or whatever we
+must have. Write to-day, will you? and ask him to send it right away.
+Of course there are ways to do things."
+
+"May I make a suggestion?" said Lawrence. "If we are to go on to
+Dresden, why should we return to Rotterdam? We might send back to the
+hotel for our luggage, and meanwhile you can rest here. And then we can
+go on to Utrecht early to-morrow; or this evening, if you like. It
+would save time."
+
+This plan met approval. Rupert volunteered to go back and bring Mrs.
+Copley's belongings safely to Gonda.
+
+"And while you are about it, bring mine too, my good fellow, will you?"
+said St. Leger as Rupert was about to go. He spoke somewhat
+superciliously. But the other answered with cool good humour,
+
+"All right. I'll do that, on the understanding that you'll do as much
+for me next time." And he went.
+
+"Confound him!" said Lawrence; while Dolly smiled.
+
+"Hush!" she said. "I am sure that is a fair bargain."
+
+"Where did Mr. Copley pick up such a green hand?"
+
+"Did you never see him at the office?"
+
+"What office?"
+
+"The Consul's office, in London. You have been there enough."
+
+"Oh, ah--the Consul's office," said Lawrence. "True, if he was there I
+must have seen him. But what do we want of him here?"
+
+"He is useful to you just now," said Dolly.
+
+But afterwards she took up the question again and, what Lawrence did
+not dream of, included his name in it. Why was either of these young
+men there? This time of waiting at the hotel gave Dolly a chance to
+think; and while she sat at the window and watched the strange figures
+and novel sights in the street, her mind began to go over more
+questions than one. She felt in a sort lost without her father. Here
+were she and her mother taking a journey through Europe in the care of
+these two young men. What were they there for? Rupert certainly for her
+pleasure and service, she knew; Lawrence, she was equally sure, for his
+own. How should she manage them? for Lawrence must not be encouraged,
+while at the same time he could not be sent away. At least, not yet.
+Careful, and cool, and womanly, she must be; and that was not so very
+difficult, for poor Dolly felt as if glad childish days were past for
+her.
+
+Another question was, how she should get the most good of her journey,
+and how she could help Rupert, who, she could see, was on the watch to
+improve himself. Dolly had a sympathy for him. She resolved that she
+would study up every subject that presented itself, and set Rupert upon
+doing the same. St. Leger might take care of himself. Yet Dolly's
+conscience would not let him go so. No; one can be nobody's travelling
+companion for days or weeks, without having duties to fulfil towards
+him; but Dolly thought the duties were very difficult in this her
+particular case. If her father would but come! And therewith Dolly sat
+down and wrote him the tenderest, lovingest of letters, telling him
+about their journey, and the glass windows; and begging him to meet
+them in Dresden or before, so that they might see the fabulous Green
+vaults together. In any case, she begged him to make such provision
+that Mrs. Copley might not be disappointed of seeing them. All Dolly's
+eloquence and some tears were poured out upon that sheet of paper; and
+as she sealed it up she felt again that she was surely growing to be a
+woman; the days of her childhood were gone.
+
+Not so far off, however, but that Dolly's spirits sprang up again after
+the letter was despatched, and were able to take exquisite pleasure in
+everything the further journey offered. Even the unattractive was
+novel, and what was not unattractive was so charming. She admired the
+quaint, clean, bright, fanciful Dutch towns; the abundance of flowers
+still to be seen abroad; the smiling country places surrounding the
+towns; the strange carvings and devices on the houses; the crooked
+streets.
+
+"You are the first person I ever saw," Lawrence said admiringly, "who
+found beauty in crooked streets."
+
+"Do you like straight ones?" said Dolly.
+
+"Certainly. Why not?"
+
+"You look from end to end; you see all there is at once; walk and walk
+as you may, there is no change, but the same wearisome lines of houses.
+Now when streets are not straight, but have windings and turnings, you
+are always coming to something new."
+
+"I suppose you like them to be up hill and down too?"
+
+"Oh, very much!"
+
+"You do not find that in Holland."
+
+"No, but in Boston."
+
+"Ah, indeed!" said Lawrence.
+
+"I wonder," Dolly went on, "what makes one nation so different from
+another. _You_ are on an island; but here there is only a line between
+Holland and Germany, and the people are not alike."
+
+"Comes from what they eat," said Lawrence.
+
+"Their _food?_" said Dolly.
+
+"Yes. The Scotchman lives upon porridge, the Englishman on beef and
+porter, the German on sausages and beer."
+
+"The French?"
+
+"Oh, on soup and salad and sour wine."
+
+"And Italians?"
+
+"On grapes and olives."
+
+"That will do to talk about," said Dolly; "but it does not touch the
+question."
+
+"Not touch the question! I beg your pardon--but it does touch it most
+essentially. Do you think it makes no difference to a man what sort of
+a dinner he eats?"
+
+"A great difference _to_ some men; but does it make much difference in
+him?"
+
+"Yes," said Rupert; and "Yes!" said Lawrence, with a unanimity which
+made Dolly smile. "I can tell you," the latter went on, "a man is one
+thing or another for the day, according to whether he has had a good
+breakfast or a bad one."
+
+"I understand. That's temper."
+
+"It is not temper at all. It is physical condition."
+
+"It's feeling put to rights, _I_ think," said Rupert.
+
+"I suppose all these people are suited, in their several ways," said
+Dolly. "Will mother like Venice, Mr. St. Leger, when we get there? What
+is it like?"
+
+"Like a city afloat. _You_ will like it, for the strangeness and the
+beautiful things you will find there. I can't say about Mrs. Copley,
+I'm sure."
+
+"What do they drink there?" said Rupert. "Water?"
+
+"Well, not exactly. You can judge for yourself, my good fellow."
+
+"But that is Italy," said Dolly. "I suppose there is no beer or porter?"
+
+"Well, you can find it, of course, if you want it; there are people
+enough coming and going that _do_ want it; but in Venice you can have
+pure wine, and at a reasonable price, too."
+
+"At hotels, of course," said Dolly faintly.
+
+"Of course, at some of them. But I was not thinking of hotels."
+
+"Of what, then?"
+
+"Wine-shops.''
+
+"Wine-shops! Not for people who only want a glass, or two glasses?"
+
+"Just for them. A glass or two, or half a dozen."
+
+"Restaurants, you mean?"
+
+"No, I do not mean restaurants. They are just wine-shops; sell nothing
+but wine. Odd little places. There's no show; there's no set out; there
+are just the casks from which the wine is drawn, and the glasses-mugs,
+I should say; queer things; pints and quarts, and so on. Nothing else
+is there, but the customers and the people who serve you."
+
+"And people go into such places to drink wine? merely to drink, without
+eating anything?"
+
+"They can eat, if they like. There are street venders, that watch the
+custom and come in immediately after any one enters; they bring fruit
+and confections and trifles."
+
+"You do not mean that _gentlemen_ go to these places, Mr. St. Leger?"
+
+"Certainly. The wine is pure, and sold at a reasonable rate. Gentlemen
+go, of course--if they know where to go."
+
+Dolly's heart sank. In Venice this!--where she had hoped to have her
+father with her safe. She had known there was wine enough to be had in
+hotels; but that, she knew too, costs money, if people will have it
+good; and Mr. Copley liked no other. But cheap wine-shops, "if you know
+where to go,"--therefore retired and comparatively private
+places,--were _those_ to be found in Venice, the goal of her hopes?
+Dolly's cheeks grew perceptibly pale.
+
+"What is the matter, Miss Dolly?" Lawrence asked, watching her. But
+Dolly could not answer; and she thought he knew, besides.
+
+"There is no harm in pure wine," he went on.
+
+Dolly flashed a look at him upon that, a most involuntary, innocent
+look; yet one which he would have worked half a day for if it could
+have been obtained so. It was eloquent, it was brilliant, it was
+tender; it carried a fiery appeal against the truth of his words, and
+at the same time a most moving deprecation of his acting in consonance
+with them. She dared not speak plainer, and she could not have spoken
+plainer, if she had talked for an hour. Lawrence would have urged
+further his view of the subject, but that look stopped him. Indeed, the
+beauty of it put for the moment the occasion of it out of his head.
+
+Thanks to Rupert's efficient agency, they were able to spend that night
+at Utrecht, and the next day went on. It seemed to Dolly that every
+hour was separating her further from her father; which to be sure
+literally was true; nevertheless she had to give herself up to the
+witchery of that drive. The varied beauty, and the constant novelty on
+every hand, were a perpetual entertainment. Mrs. Copley even forgot
+herself and her grievances in looking out of the carriage windows;
+indeed, the only trouble she gave was in her frequent changing places
+with Dolly to secure now this and now that view.
+
+"We haven't got such roads in Massachusetts," remarked Rupert. "This is
+what I call first-rate going."
+
+"Have you got such anything else there?" Lawrence inquired smoothly.
+
+"Not such land, I'm bound to say."
+
+"No," said Dolly, "this is not in the least like Massachusetts, in
+anything. O mother, look at those cattle! why there must be thousands
+of them; how beautiful! You would not find such an immense level green
+plain in Massachusetts, Mr. St. Leger. I never saw such a one anywhere."
+
+Mrs. Copley took that side of the carriage.
+
+"It wouldn't be used for a pasture ground, if we had it there," said
+Rupert.
+
+"Perhaps it would. I fancy it is too wet for grain," St. Leger answered.
+
+"Now here is a lake again," said Dolly. "How large, and how pretty!
+Miles and miles, it must be. How pretty those little islands are, Mr.
+Babbage!"
+
+Mrs. Copley exchanged again, and immediately burst out--
+
+"Dolly, Dolly, did you see that woman's earrings? I declare they were a
+foot long."
+
+"I beg your pardon--half a foot, Mrs. Copley."
+
+"What do you suppose they are made of?"
+
+"True gold or silver."
+
+"Mercy! that's the oddest thing I've seen yet. I suppose Holland is a
+very rich country."
+
+"And here come country houses and gardens again," said Dolly. "There's
+a garden filled with marble statues, mother."
+
+Mrs. Copley shifted her seat to the other side to look at the statues,
+and directly after went back to see some curiously trimmed yews in
+another garden. So it went on; Dolly and her mother getting a good deal
+of exercise by the way. Mrs. Copley was ready for her dinner, and
+enjoyed it; and Dolly perceiving this enjoyed hers too.
+
+Then they were delighted with Arnheim. They drove into the town towards
+evening; and the quaint, picturesque look of the place, lying bright in
+the sunshine of a warm September day, took the hearts of both ladies.
+The odd gables, the endless variety of building, the balconies hung
+with climbing vines; and above all, the little gardens, gay with fall
+flowers and furnished with arbours or some sort of shelter, under some
+of which people were taking tea, while in others the wooden tables and
+chairs stood ready though empty, testifying to a good deal of habitual
+out-of-door life; they stirred Dolly's fancy and Mrs. Copley's
+curiosity. Both of them were glad to spend the night in such a pretty
+place.
+
+After they had had supper comfortably, Dolly left her mother talking to
+St. Leger and slipped out quietly to take a walk, having privately
+summoned Rupert to attend her. The walk was full of enjoyment. It
+lasted a good while; till Dolly began to grow a little tired, and the
+evening light was dying away; then the steps slackened which had been
+very brisk at setting out, and Dolly began to let her thoughts go
+beyond what was immediately before her. She was very much inclined to
+be glad now of Rupert's presence in the party. She perceived that he
+was already devoted to her service; not with Mr. St. Leger's
+pretensions, but with something more like the adoration a heathen
+devotee pays to his goddess. Rupert already watched her eyes and
+followed her wishes, sometimes before they were spoken. It was plain
+that she might rely upon him for all to which his powers would reach;
+and a strong element of good-will began to mix with her confidence in
+him. What could she do, to help make this journey a benefit to the boy?
+He had known little of good or gentle influences in his life; yet he
+was gentle himself and much inclined to be good, she thought. And he
+might be very important to her yet, before she got home.
+
+"I don't know the first thing about this country," he broke the
+silence. "It was always a little spot in the corner of the map that I
+thought was no sort of count. Why, it's a grand place!"
+
+"You ought to read about it in history."
+
+"I never read much history, that's a fact," Rupert answered. "Never had
+much to read," he added with a laugh. "Fact is, my life up to now has
+been pretty much of a scrimmage for the needful."
+
+"Knowledge is needful," said Dolly.
+
+"That's a fact; but a fellow must live first, you see. And that warn't
+always easy once."
+
+"And what are your plans or prospects? What do you mean to be--or do?
+what do you mean to make of yourself?"
+
+Rupert half laughed. "I haven't any prospects--to speak of. In fact, I
+don't see ahead any further than Venice. As to what I am to be, or
+do,--I expect that will be settled without any choice of mine. I've got
+along, so far, somehow; I guess I'll get along yet."
+
+"Are you a Christian?" Dolly asked, following a sudden impulse.
+
+"I guess I ain't what you mean by that."
+
+"What do you mean by it?"
+
+"Well--where I come from, they call Christians folks that have j'ined
+the church."
+
+"That's making a profession," said Dolly.
+
+"Yes, I've heard folks call it that."
+
+"But what is the reality? _What_ do you think a man professes when he
+joins the church?"
+
+"I'll be shot if I know," Rupert answered, looking at her hard in the
+fading light. "I'd like first-rate to hear you say."
+
+"It is just to be a servant of Christ," said Dolly. "A true servant,
+'doing the will of God from the heart.'"
+
+"How are you going to know what His will is? I should be bothered if
+you asked _me_."
+
+"Oh, He has told us that," said Dolly, surprised. "In the Bible."
+
+"Then I s'pose you've got to study _that_ considerable."
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"Well, don't it say things pretty different from what most folks do?"
+
+"Yes. What then?"
+
+"Then it wouldn't be just easy to get along with it, I should think."
+
+"What then?"
+
+"Well!" said Rupert,--"how are you going to live in the world, and not
+do as the world do?"
+
+"Then you _have_ studied the Bible a little?"
+
+"No, fact, I haven't," said Rupert. "But I've heard folks talk now and
+again; and that's what I think about it."
+
+"Suppose it is difficult?" said Dolly. "But it is really not difficult,
+if one is a true servant of God and not only make-believe. Suppose it
+were difficult, though. Do you remember what Christ said of the two
+ways, serving Him and not serving Him?"
+
+Rupert shook his head.
+
+"Have you got a Bible of your own?"
+
+"No," said Rupert. "That's an article I never owned yet. I've always
+wanted other things more, you see."
+
+"And I would rather want everything else in the world," said Dolly. "I
+mean, I would rather be without everything else."
+
+"Surely!" said Rupert.
+
+"Because I am a servant of Christ, you see. Now that is what I want you
+to be. And as to the question of ease or difficulty--this is what I was
+going to repeat to you. Jesus said, that those who hear and obey Him
+are like a house planted on a rock; fixed and firm; a house that when
+the storms come and the winds blow, is never so much as shaken. But
+those who do not obey Him are like a house built on the sand. When the
+storms blow and the winds beat, it will fall terribly and all to ruins.
+It seems to me, Mr. Babbage, that _that_ is harder than the other."
+
+"Suppose the storms do not come?" said Rupert.
+
+"I guess they come to most people," said Dolly soberly. "But the Lord
+did not mean these storms merely. I don't know whether He meant them at
+all. He meant the time by and by.--Come, we must go home," said Dolly,
+beginning to go forward again. "I wish you would be a servant of
+Christ, Mr. Babbage!"
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Oh, because all that is sure and strong and safe and happy is on that
+side," said Dolly, speaking eagerly. "All that is noble and true and
+good. You are sure of nothing if you are not a Christian, Mr. Babbage;
+you are not sure even of yourself. Temptation may whirl you, you don't
+know where, and before you know it and before you can help it. And when
+the storms come, those storms--your house will--go down--in the
+sands"---- And to Rupert's enormous astonishment, Dolly's voice broke
+here, and for a second she stood still, drawing long sobs; then she
+lifted her head with an effort, took his arm and went swiftly back on
+the way to the hotel. He had not been able to say one word. Rupert
+could not have the faintest notion of the experience which had pointed
+and sharpened Dolly's last words; he could not imagine why, as they
+walked home, she should catch a hasty breath now and then, as he knew
+she did, a breath which was almost a sob; but Rupert Babbage was
+Dolly's devoted slave from that day.
+
+Lawrence himself marvelled somewhat at the appearance and manner of the
+young lady in the evening. The talk and the thoughts had roused and
+stirred Dolly, with partly the stir of pain, but partly also the sense
+of work to do and the calling up of all her loving strength to do it.
+Her cheek had a little more colour than usual, her eye a soft hidden
+fire, her voice a thrill of tender power. She was like, Lawrence
+thought, a most rare wild wood flower, some spiritual orchis or
+delicious and delicate geranium; in contrast to the severely trained,
+massive and immoveable tulips and camellias of society. She was at a
+vexatious distance from him, however; and handled him with a calm
+superiority which no woman of the world could have improved upon. Only
+it was nature with Dolly.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+SEEING SIGHTS.
+
+The next day's journey was uninteresting and slow. Mrs. Copley grew
+tired; and even dinner and rest at a good hotel failed to restore her
+spirits.
+
+"How many more days will it be before we get to Dresden?" she desired
+to know.
+
+"Keep up your courage, Mrs. Copley," said Lawrence. "Remember the Green
+vaults! We have some work before us yet to get there."
+
+"We shall not get there to-morrow?"
+
+"We shall hardly do more than reach Cassel to-morrow."
+
+"I don't know anything about Cassel. Will it be nothing but sand all
+the way, like to-day? We have left everything pretty behind us in
+Holland."
+
+"I think the way will mend a little," Lawrence allowed.
+
+"What place is next to Cassel?"
+
+"As our resting place for the night? I am afraid it will take us two
+days to get to Weimar."
+
+"And then Dresden?"
+
+"No, then Leipzig."
+
+"Oh, I should like to see Leipzig," cried Dolly.
+
+"What for?" said her mother. "I am sure all these places are nothing to
+us, and I think the country is very stupid. And I like travelling where
+I know what the people say. I feel as if I had got five thousand miles
+from anywhere. What do you suppose keeps your father, Dolly?"
+
+"I don't know, mother."
+
+"You may write and tell him, if he don't come to us in Dresden I shall
+go back. This isn't _my_ notion of pleasure."
+
+"But it is doing you good, mother."
+
+"I hadn't anything I could eat this evening. If you don't mind, Dolly,
+I'll go to bed."
+
+Dolly did mind, for she longed for a walk again among the strange
+scenes and people. As it was not to be had this time, she sat at her
+window and looked out. It was moonlight, soft weather; and her eye was
+at least filled with novelty enough, even so. But her thoughts went
+back to what was not novel. The day had been dull and fatiguing.
+Dolly's spirits were quiet. She too was longing for her father, with a
+craving, anxious longing that was more full of fear than of hope. And
+as she thought it over again, she did not like her position. Her mother
+was little of a shield between her and what she wanted to escape,
+Lawrence St. Leger's attentions; and she could but imperfectly protect
+herself. True, she knew she gave him no direct encouragement. Yet he
+was constantly with her, he had the right of taking care of her, he let
+her see daily what a pleasure it was, and she was not able to turn it
+into the reverse of pleasure. She could not repulse him, unless he
+pushed his advances beyond a certain point; and Lawrence was clever
+enough to see that he had better not do that. He took things for
+granted a little, in a way that annoyed Dolly. She knew she gave him no
+proper encouragement; nevertheless, the things she could not forbid
+might seem to weave a tacit claim by and by. She wished for her father
+on her own account. But when she thought of what was keeping him,
+Dolly's head went down in agony. "O father, father!" she cried in the
+depths of her heart, "why don't you come? how can you let us ask in
+vain? and what dreadful, dreadful entanglement it must be that has such
+power over you to make you do things so unlike yourself! Oh, what shall
+I do? what shall I do? I cannot reach him now--only by letters."
+
+Mrs. Copley got up next morning in renewed spirits. "Dolly," she
+inquired while she was dressing, in which business Dolly always helped
+her,--"is anything settled between St. Leger and you?"
+
+"Settled, mother? He is father's secretary,--at least so he calls
+himself,--taking care of us in father's absence. There is nothing else
+settled, nor to be settled."
+
+"You know why he is here, child."
+
+"Because father isn't, mother; and I should like to make the exchange
+as quickly as possible."
+
+"What's the matter with him, Dolly?"
+
+"The principal thing is, he won't take a hint."
+
+"No, no; I mean, what fault do you find in him?"
+
+"That, mother. Nothing else."
+
+"He worships the ground you tread on."
+
+"Mother, I think that is a pity. Don't you?"
+
+"I think you ought to be very glad of it. I am. Dolly, the St. Legers
+are _very_ well off; he is rich, and his father is rich; and there is
+that beautiful place, and position, and everything you could desire."
+
+"Position!" Dolly repeated. "Mother, I think I make my own position. At
+any rate, I like it better than his."
+
+"O Dolly! the St. Legers"----
+
+"They are not anything particular, mother. Rich bankers; that is all."
+
+"And isn't that enough?"
+
+"Well, no," said Dolly, laughing. "It would take a good deal more to
+tempt me away from you and father."
+
+"But, child, you've got to go. And Mr. St. Leger is as fond of you as
+ever he can be."
+
+"He will not break his heart, mother. He is not that sort. Don't think
+it."
+
+"I don't care if he did!" said Mrs. Copley, half crying. "It is not
+_him_ I am thinking of; it is you."
+
+"Thank you, mother," said Dolly, putting her arms round her mother's
+neck and kissing her repeatedly. "But I am not going to leave you for
+any such person. And I don't think so much of money as you do."
+
+"Dolly, Dolly, money is a good thing."
+
+"There is not enough of it in the world to buy me, mother. Don't try to
+fix my price."
+
+The rest of that day Dolly was gay. Whether from the reaction of
+spirits natural to seventeen, or whether she were lightened in heart by
+the explicitness of her talk with her mother in the morning, she was
+the life of the day's journey. The road itself mended; the landscape
+was often noble, with fine oak and beech woods, and lovely in its rich
+cultivation; meadows and ploughed fields and tracts of young grain and
+smiling villages alternating with one another. There was no tedium in
+the carriage from morning to night. St. Leger and Rupert laughed at
+Dolly, and with her; and Mrs. Copley, in spite of chewing the cud of
+mortification at Dolly's impracticableness, was beguiled into
+forgetting herself. Sometimes this happy effect could be managed; at
+other times it was impossible. But more days followed, not so gay.
+
+"I'm as tired as I can be!" was Mrs. Copley's declaration, as they were
+approaching Leipzig.
+
+"We'll soon get to our hotel now," said Lawrence soothingly.
+
+"'Tain't that," said Mrs. Copley; "I am tired of hotels too. I am
+tired of going from one place to another. I should like to stay still
+somewhere."
+
+"But it is doing you good, mother."
+
+"I don't see it," said Mrs. Copley. "And what do you mean by its doing
+me good, Dolly? What is good that you don't feel? It's like something
+handsome that you can't see; and if you call that good, I don't. I
+wonder if life's to everybody what it is to me!"
+
+"Not exactly," said Lawrence. "Not everybody can go where he likes and
+do what he will, and have such an attendant handmaiden everywhere."
+
+"Do what I will!" cried Mrs. Copley, who like other dissatisfied people
+did not like to have her case proved against her,--"much you know about
+it, Mr. St. Leger! If I had my will, I would go back to America."
+
+"Then you would have to do without your handmaiden," said Lawrence.
+"You do not think that we on this side are so careless of our own
+advantage as to let such a valuable article go out of the country?"
+
+It was said with just such a mixture of jest and earnest that Dolly
+could hardly take it up. The words soothed Mrs. Copley, though her
+answer hardly sounded so.
+
+"I suppose that is what mothers have to make up their minds to," she
+said. "Just when their children are ready to be some comfort to them,
+off they go, to begin the same game on their own account. I sometimes
+wonder whether it is worth while to live at all!"
+
+"But one can't help that," said Rupert.
+
+"I don't see what it amounts to."
+
+"Mother, think of the Dresden Green vaults," said Dolly.
+
+"Well, I do," said Mrs. Copley. "That keeps me up. But when I have seen
+them, Dolly, what will keep me up then?"
+
+"Why, Venice, mother."
+
+"And suppose I don't like Venice? I sometimes think I shan't."
+
+"Then we will not stay there, dear. We will go on to Sorrento."
+
+"After all, Dolly, one can't keep always going somewhere. One must come
+to a stop."
+
+"The best way is not to think of that till one is obliged to do it,"
+said Lawrence. "Enjoy while you have to enjoy."
+
+"That ain't a very safe maxim, seems to me," said Rupert. "One's rope
+might get twisted up."
+
+"It is the maxim of a great many wise men," said Lawrence, ignoring the
+figure.
+
+"Is it wise?" said Dolly. "Would you spend your money so, like your
+time? spend to the last farthing, before you made any provision for
+what was to be next?"
+
+"No, for I need not. In money matters one can always take care to have
+means ahead."
+
+"So you can in the other thing."
+
+"How?" said Rupert, and "How?" said Lawrence, in the same breath. "You
+cannot always, as Mrs. Copley said, go on finding new places to go to
+and new things to see."
+
+"I'd have what would put me above the need of that."
+
+"What? Philosophy? Stoicism?"
+
+"No," said Dolly softly.
+
+"Have you discovered the philosopher's stone?" said Lawrence; "and can
+you turn common things into gold for your purposes?"
+
+"Yes," said Dolly in the same way.
+
+"Let us hear how, won't you? Is it books, or writing, or art perhaps?
+You are very fond of that, I know."
+
+"No," said Dolly slowly; "and I cannot show it to you, either, Mr. St.
+Leger. It is like the golden water in the story in the Arabian Nights,
+which was at the top of a hill, and people went up the hill to get it;
+but on the way so many strange voices sounded in their ears that they
+were tempted to look round; and if they looked round they were turned
+to stone. So the way was marked with stones."
+
+"And nobody got the golden water?"
+
+"Yes. At last one went up, who being forewarned, stopped her ears and
+never looked round. She got to the top and found the golden water. We
+in these times give it another name. It is the water of life."
+
+"What _are_ you talking about, Dolly?" said her mother.
+
+"Must one go up the hill with one's ears stopped _now_, to get the
+wonderful water?" Lawrence asked. Dolly nodded.
+
+"And when you have got it--what then?"
+
+"Then you have got it," said Dolly. "It is the water of life. And you
+have done with this dry wilderness that mother is complaining of, and
+you are recommending."
+
+Lawrence stroked and pulled his moustache, as he might have done if a
+lady had spoken to him in polite Sanscrit. Rupert looked gravely out of
+the carriage window. Neither answered, and nobody spoke another word,
+till Mrs. Copley exclaimed, "There's Leipzig!"
+
+"Looks sort o' peaceful now," remarked Rupert.
+
+"Peaceful? Why, ain't the place quiet?" Mrs. Copley asked anxiously.
+
+"Quiet enough," said Lawrence; "but there was a time, not so long ago,
+when it wasn't exactly so."
+
+"When was that?"
+
+"When all the uniforms of Europe were chasing through it," said Dolly;
+"some chased and some chasing; when the country was covered with
+armies; when a half a million of men or so fought a long battle here,
+and the suburbs of Leipzig were full of dead and wounded and sick and
+starving; there was not much peace then in or out of the city; though
+there was some rejoicing."
+
+"Oh," said Mrs. Copley, "you mean"----
+
+"When Napoleon was beaten here, mother."
+
+"War's a mean thing!" said Rupert.
+
+"That's not precisely the view civilised peoples take of it," said
+Lawrence with a slight sneer.
+
+"True, though," said Dolly.
+
+"Mean?" said Lawrence. "Do you think it was a mean thing for Germany to
+rise up and cast out the power that had been oppressing her? or for the
+other powers of Europe to help?"
+
+"No; but very mean for the side that had given the occasion."
+
+"That's as you look at it," said Lawrence.
+
+"No, but how God looks at it. You cannot possibly think," said Dolly
+slowly, going back to her old childish expression,--"that He likes it."
+
+Lawrence could not help smiling at this very original view. "Very few
+people that make war ask that question," he said.
+
+"God will ask them, though," said Dolly, "why they did not. I think few
+people ask that question, Mr. St. Leger, about anything."
+
+"It is not usual, except for a little saint here and there like you,"
+he allowed.
+
+"And yet it is the only question. There is nothing else to be asked
+about a matter; almost nothing else. If that is settled, it is all
+settled."
+
+"If we were only all saints," Lawrence put in.
+
+"Why are not we?"
+
+"I don't know. I suppose everybody is not cut out for such a vocation."
+
+"Everybody ought to be a saint."
+
+"Do you mean that?" cried Rupert. "I thought,--I mean, I thought it was
+a special gift."
+
+"Yes," said Dolly with a smile at him; "but God gives it to every one
+that wants it. And when the King comes, Mr. St. Leger, He will gather
+His saints to Him, and none others; don't yon want to be counted among
+them then?--I do!"
+
+I don't know what had wrought up Dolly to this sudden burst; but she
+dropped her veil upon eyes all alight, while some soft dripping tears
+were falling from them like diamonds. Every one knows the peculiar
+brilliancy of a sunlit shower; and the two young men remained fairly
+dazzled. Rupert, however, looked very grave, while the other wore a
+cloud on his brow.
+
+Dolly was as matter-of-fact as possible when she came out from under
+her veil again; and declared she should not go to a hotel in Dresden,
+but take a lodging.
+
+"Why?" Lawrence enquired.
+
+"Cheaper. And pleasanter. And much quieter. We shall probably have to
+stay several days in Dresden. We must get letters there."
+
+"But you do not know where to go to find lodgings."
+
+"Yes, I do. Or I shall. I hope so. I have sent for the address of the
+woman with whom Lady Brierley had lodgings a whole winter."
+
+"Where do you expect to receive this address?"
+
+"In Leipzig, I hope."
+
+"Really, Dolly, you take a good deal upon you, considering how old you
+are," said her mother. "Don't you think Mr. St. Leger knows best?"
+
+"No, mother, not for you and me. Oh, _he_ can go to a hotel. He will,
+of course."
+
+However, this Mr. St. Leger did not desire. He was obliged to do it,
+nevertheless. The letter was found at Leipzig, the lodgings were found
+in Dresden, but not roomy enough to hold them all. Mrs. Copley and her
+daughter and their attendant Rupert were very comfortably accommodated;
+and to Dolly's great joy found themselves alone. Frau Wetterhahn was
+all obligingness, hearing Lady Brierley's name, and made them right
+welcome. This Frau Wetterhahn! She was the most lively, active,
+capable, talkative, bright-eyed, good-humoured, free and easy little
+woman that you can imagine. She was really capable, and cooked them a
+nice supper. Dolly had unpacked a few things, and felt herself at home,
+and the three sat down comfortably to their meal.
+
+"Now, mother, dear," said Dolly, "this is pleasant!"
+
+"Well," said Mrs. Copley, "I think it is. If you only hadn't sent
+Lawrence away!"
+
+"He couldn't stay, mother. Frau Wetterhahn sent him away--not I. Change
+will be good for him. And for me too. I am going to make believe we are
+at home for a little while. And you are going to see the Green vaults;
+and I am going to see everything. And these rooms are so cosy!"
+
+"Aren't you going to see the Green vaults too?"
+
+"Indeed, I hope so. But we may have to wait a day or two, dear mother;
+that will be good, and you can have a rest."
+
+"I'm sure I'm glad of it," said Mrs. Copley. "I am just tired of
+riding, and more tired yet of seeing everlasting new things. I am
+aching for something I've seen before in my life."
+
+"Well, here's a cup of coffee, mother."
+
+Mrs. Copley tasted.
+
+"If you think _that's_ like anything I used to have at home, I'm sorry
+for you!" she said with a reproachful look.
+
+"Don't you like it? I do. I like it because it is different. But I
+think it is very good, mother. And look--here is some delicious bread."
+
+"It's like no bread I ever saw till I came to Germany. Oh, mercy! why
+must folks have so many ways? I wonder how things will be at Venice!"
+
+"Stranger than ever, mother, I'm afraid."
+
+"Then I shall get tired of it. Isn't this a very roundabout way that we
+are going to Venice--round this way by Dresden?"
+
+"Why, yes, mother, of course; but the Green vaults are here, and you
+were bound to see the Green vaults."
+
+"I wouldn't have come, if I had known it was so far," said Mrs. Copley.
+
+But she relished her supper, and was not nervous, and slept well; and
+Dolly was somewhat in hopes that Dresden was not a bad move after all.
+They had to wait, as she said, for letters, and for the sight of the
+glories that had attracted them hither. Several days passed by.
+
+They passed in delights, for Dolly. Two mornings were spent in the
+great picture gallery. Mrs. Copley's desires and expectations having
+focussed upon the Green vaults, were hardly able to see anything else
+clearly; indeed, she declared that she did not think the wonderful
+Madonna was so very wonderful after all; no woman could stand upon
+clouds in that way, and as she _was_ a woman, she did not see why the
+painter did not exhibit her in a possible situation; and those little
+angels at the foot of the picture--where was the other half of them
+supposed to be? she did not like half of anything. But Dolly dreamed in
+rapture, before this and many another wonder of art. Mrs. Copley made
+processions round the rooms constantly, drawing, of course, St. Leger
+with her; she could not be still. But Dolly would stop before a picture
+and be immoveable for half an hour, drinking in pleasure and feeding
+upon knowledge; and Rupert generally took post behind her and acted as
+body-guard. What he made of the show, I do not know. Dolly asked him
+how he liked it? He said, "first-rate."
+
+"Well, what do you think of it, Rupert?" Dolly asked gaily.
+
+"Well, I guess I don't just see into it," was the dubious answer. "If
+these are likenesses of folks, they ain't like my folks."
+
+"Oh, but they are not likenesses; most of them are not."
+
+"What are they, then? and what is the good of 'em, if they don't mean
+anything?"
+
+"They are out of people's imagination; as the painter imagined such and
+such persons might have looked, in such situations."
+
+"How the painter imagined they might have looked!" cried Rupert.
+
+"Yes. And they mean a great deal; all that was in the painter's mind."
+
+"I don't care a red cent how a man fancies somebody looked. I'd like
+the real thing, if I could get it. I'd go some ways to see how the
+mother of Christ _did_ look; but you say that ain't it?"
+
+"No," said Dolly, smiling.
+
+Rupert surveyed the great picture again.
+
+"Don't you think it is beautiful, Rupert?" Dolly pursued, curious to
+know what went on in his thoughts.
+
+"I've seen as handsome faces--and handsomer," he said slowly; "and I
+like flesh and blood a long sight better than a painting, anyhow."
+
+"Handsome?" said Dolly. "Oh, it is not _that_--it is so much more!"----
+
+"What is it, Miss Dolly?" said Lawrence, just then coming up behind
+her. "I should like to hear your criticism. Do put it in words."
+
+"That's not easy; and it is not criticism. But I'll tell you how it
+seems to me; as the painting, not of anybody's features, but of
+somebody's nature, spirit. It is a painting of the spiritual character."
+
+"Mental traits can be expressed in words, though," said Lawrence.
+"You'll go on, I hope?"
+
+"I cannot," said Dolly. "It is not the lovely face, Mr. Babbage; it is
+thought and feeling, love and purity, and majesty--but the majesty of a
+person who has no thought of herself."
+
+Dolly could not get out of that one room; she sat before the Raphael,
+and then stood fixed before the "Notte" or the "Magdalene" of
+Correggio; and would not come away. Rupert always attended on her, and
+Mrs. Copley as regularly made progresses through the rooms on
+Lawrence's arm, till she declared herself tired out. They were much
+beholden to Lawrence and his good offices these days, more than they
+knew; for it was past the season when the gallery was open to the
+public, and entrance was obtained solely by the influence of St.
+Leger's mediation and money; how much of the latter they never knew.
+Lawrence was a very good escort also; his address was pleasant, and his
+knowledge of men and things sufficient for useful purposes; he knew in
+general what was what and who was who, and was never at a loss. Rupert
+followed the party like a faithful dog, ready for service and with no
+opportunity to show it; Lawrence held the post of leader and manager
+now, and filled it well. In matters of art, however, I am bound to say,
+though he could talk more, he knew as little as Rupert himself.
+
+"What is to be done to-morrow?" he asked, in the evening of that second
+day.
+
+"We haven't got our letters yet," said Mrs. Copley. "I can't see why
+they don't come."
+
+"So the Green vaults must wait. What else shall we do?"
+
+"Oh," said Dolly, "might we not go to the gallery again?"
+
+"Another day?" cried her mother. "Why, you have been there two whole
+mornings, child. Ain't that enough?"
+
+"Mother, I could go two months, I think."
+
+"Then you'd catch your death," said Mrs. Copley. "That inner room is
+very chill now. For my part, I do not want to see another picture again
+in days and days. My head swims with looking at them. I don't see what
+you find in the old things."
+
+Dolly could not have told. She sighed, and it was agreed that they
+would drive about the city and its environs next day; Lawrence assuring
+them that it was one of the pleasantest towns in Germany. But the next
+morning early came the letters from Mr. Copley; one to his wife and one
+to Dolly.
+
+Dolly read them both and pondered them; and was unsatisfied. They were
+rather cheerful letters; at the same time Mr. Copley informed his wife
+and daughter that he could not join them in Dresden; nor at any rate
+before they got to Venice. So much was final; but what puzzled and
+annoyed Dolly yet more than this delay was the amount of money he
+remitted to her. To her, for Mrs. Copley, as an invalid, it was agreed,
+should not be burdened with business. So the draft came in the letter
+to Dolly; and it was not half large enough. Dolly kept the draft, gave
+the letter to her mother to read, and sat in a mazed kind of state,
+trying to bring her wits to a focus upon this condition of affairs.
+
+What was her father thinking of? It is one thing to be short of funds
+at home, in one's own country and in one's own house; it is bad enough
+even there; what is it when one is in a strange land and dependent upon
+the shelter of other people's houses, for which an equivalent must be
+paid in money? and when one is obliged to travel from one place to
+another, and every mile of the way demands another equivalent in money?
+Mr. Copley had sent a little, but Dolly knew it would by no means take
+them to Venice. What did he intend? or what did he expect her to do?
+Apply to Lawrence? Never! No, not under any pressure or combination
+that could be brought to bear. He would demand an equivalent too; or
+worse, think that it was guaranteed, if she made such an application.
+How could Mr. Copley place his child in such a predicament? And then
+Dolly's head went down in her hands, for the probable answer crushed
+her. He never would, he never could, but for yielding to unworthy
+indulgences; becoming entangled in low pleasures; taken possession of
+by the influence of unprincipled men. Her father!--Dolly felt as if her
+heart would break or her head burst with its burden of pain,--"Oh, a
+father never should let his child feel ashamed for him!" was the secret
+cry down in the depths of her heart. Dolly would not speak it out ever,
+even to herself, but it was there, all the same; and it tortured her,
+with a nameless, exquisite torture, under which she mentally writhed,
+without being able to get the least relief. Every surge of the old love
+and reverence broke on those sharp rocks of pain more hopelessly. "O
+father!--O father!" she cried silently, with a pitiful vain appeal
+which could never be heard.
+
+And then the practical question came back, taking away her breath. What
+was she to do? If they did not stay too long in Dresden they would have
+enough money to pay their lodging-bill and go, she calculated, half the
+way to Venice. What then? And if Mr. Copley met them in Venice,
+according to promise, who would assure her that he would then come
+provided with the necessary funds? and what if he failed to come?
+
+Dolly started up, feeling that she could not sit any longer thinking
+about it; her nerves were getting into a hard knot. She would not
+think; she busied herself in making her mother and herself ready for
+their morning's excursion. And Lawrence came with a carriage; and they
+set off. It was a lovely day, and certainly the drive was all it had
+promised; and Dolly barred off thought, and _would_ look and enjoy and
+talk and make others enjoy; so the first part of the day passed very
+well. Dolly would make no arrangements for the afternoon, and Mrs.
+Copley was able for no more that day.
+
+But when the early dinner was over, Dolly asked Rupert to walk with
+her. Rupert was always ready, and gave a delighted assent.
+
+"Are you going out again? and to leave me all alone?" said Mrs. Copley.
+
+"You will be lying down, mother dear; you will not want me; and I have
+business on hand, that I must attend to."
+
+"I don't see what business," said Mrs. Copley fretfully; "and you can't
+do anything here, in a strange place. You'd better get Mr. St. Leger to
+do it for you."
+
+"He cannot do my work," said Dolly lightly.
+
+"But you had better wait and take him along, Dolly. He knows where to
+go."
+
+"So do I, mother. I want Rupert this time, and not Mr. St. Leger. You
+sleep till I come back."
+
+Dolly had said she meant business, but at first going out things did
+not look like it. She went slowly and silently along the streets, not
+attending much to what she was passing, Rupert thought; till they
+arrived at an open spot from which the view of the river, with the
+bridge and parts of the town, could be enjoyed; and there Dolly sat
+down on a step, and still without speaking to Rupert, bent forward
+leaning on her knees, and seemed to give herself up to studying the
+beautiful scene. She saw it; the river, the picturesque bridge, the
+wavy, vine-clad hills, the unfamiliar buildings of the city, the villas
+scattered about on the banks of the Elbe; she saw it all under a clear
+heaven and a sunny light which dressed everything in hues of
+loveliness; and her face was fixed the while in lines of grave thought
+and gave back no reflection of the beauty. It had beauty enough of its
+own, Rupert thought; who, I must say, paid little heed to the landscape
+and watched his companion instead. The steady, intent, sweet eyes, how
+much grave womanliness was in them; how delicate the colour was on the
+cheek, and how tender were the curves of the lips; while the wilful,
+clustering curly hair gave an almost childish setting to the features
+whose expression was so very un-childish. For it was exceedingly grave.
+Dolly did see the lovely landscape, and it made her feel alone and
+helpless. There was nothing wonted or familiar; she seemed to herself
+somehow cast away in the Saxon capital. And truly she was all alone.
+Lawrence she could not apply to, her mother must not even be talked to;
+she knew nobody else. Her father had let her come on this journey, had
+sent her forth, and now left her unprovided even for the barest
+necessities. No doubt he meant that she should be beholden to Mr. St.
+Leger, to whom he could return the money by and by. "Or not at all,"
+thought Dolly bitterly, "if I would give him myself instead. O father,
+could you sell me!" Then came the thought of the entanglements and
+indulgences which had brought Mr. Copley to do other things so unlike
+himself; and Dolly's heart grew too full. She could not bear it; she
+had borne up and fought it out all the morning; now feeling and truth
+must have a minute for themselves; her head went down on her hands and
+she burst into quiet sobs.
+
+Quiet, but deep. Rupert, looking on in dismayed alarm, saw that this
+outbreak of pain had some deep grounded cause; right or wrong, it came
+from Dolly's very heart, and her whole nature was trembling. He was
+filled with a great awe; and in this awe his sympathy was silent for a
+time; but he could not leave the girl to herself too long.
+
+"Miss Dolly," he said in a pause of the sobs, "I thought you were such
+a Christian?"
+
+Dolly started, lifted her quivering, tearful face, and looked straight
+at him. "Yes," she said,--"what then?"
+
+"I always thought religious folks had something to comfort them."
+
+"Don't think they haven't," said Dolly. But there she broke down again,
+and it was a storm of a rain shower that poured from her eyes this
+time. She struggled to get the better of it, and as soon as she could
+she sat up again, brushing the tears right and left with her hands and
+speaking in a voice still half choked.
+
+"Don't think they haven't! If I had not _that_, my heart would just
+break and be done with it. But being a Christian does not keep one from
+suffering--sometimes." Her voice failed.
+
+"What is the matter? No, I don't mean that you should tell me that;
+only--can't I do something?"
+
+"No, thank you; nobody can. Yes, you are doing a great deal, Rupert;
+you are the greatest comfort to me. I depend upon you."
+
+Rupert's eyes glistened. He was silent for sheer swelling of heart. He
+gulped down something--and went on presently.
+
+"I was thinkin' of something my old mother used to say. I know I've
+heard her say it, lots o' times. I don't know what the trouble is,
+that's a fact--so maybe I hadn't oughter speak; but _she_ used to say
+that nothing could happen to Christians that would do 'em any real
+hurt."
+
+"I know," said Dolly, wondering to herself how it could be true; "the
+Bible says so."--And then conscience rebuked her. "And it _is_ true,"
+she said, lifting up her head; "everything is true that the Bible says,
+and that is true; and it says other things"----
+
+"What?" said Rupert; more for her sake, I confess, than for his own.
+
+"It says--'Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is staid
+upon Thee;' I was reading it this morning. You see I must be a very
+poor Christian, or I should not have doubted a minute. But even a
+Christian, and the best, must be sorry sometimes for things he cannot
+help," said Dolly.
+
+"Then you were not troubled about yourself just now?" said Rupert.
+
+"Yes, I was! I was indeed, in spite of all those words and a great many
+others. I believe I forgot them."
+
+"I should think, if God gives people promises, He would like them to be
+trusted," said Rupert "That's what _we_ do."
+
+Dolly looked at him again as if he had said something that struck her;
+and then she got up, and taking his arm, set off this time at a
+business pace. She knew, she said, where to find what she wanted;
+however, she had gone out of her way, and it cost her some trouble and
+time to get to the place. It was a store of artists' materials, among
+other things; and here Dolly made careful purchases of paper, colours,
+and camel's-hair pencils. Rupert was reassured as to a suspicion that
+had crossed him, that part of Dolly's trouble might have been caused by
+want of means; seeing that she was buying articles of amusement with a
+free hand. Then Dolly went straight home.
+
+All the rest of that afternoon she sat drawing. The next two days, the
+weather was unfavourable for going out, and she sat at her work
+persistently, whenever she was not obliged to be reading to her mother
+or attending upon her. The day following the long-planned visit to the
+Green vaults was made. In the evening Lawrence came to see them.
+
+"Well, Mrs. Copley; tired?"--he began.
+
+"I don't know which part of me's most tired," said the lady; "my eyes,
+or my head, or my feet."
+
+"Did it pay, after all?"
+
+"Pay! I wouldn't have missed it for a year's length of life! It went
+ahead of all I ever thought of or dreamt of. It was most like Aladdin's
+lamp--or what he saw, I mean, when he went down into fairyland. I
+declare, it was just as good."
+
+"Only that you could not put things in your pockets. What would you
+have brought, Mrs. Copley, if it had been safe and allowable? The
+famous egg?"
+
+"Mercy, no, Mr. St. Leger! I shouldn't have a minute's peace of my
+life, for fear I should lose it again."
+
+"That's about how they say the first owner felt. They tell of him, that
+a lady once coaxed him to let her have the egg in her hand; and she
+kept it in her hand; and the prince forgot; and she drove back to
+Dresden with it."
+
+"Where was he, the prince?"
+
+"At some hunting castle, I believe. It was night before he found out
+his loss; and then he booted and spurred in hot haste and rode to
+Dresden in the middle of the night to fetch the egg from the lady
+again."
+
+"What's the use of things that give folks so much trouble?" said Rupert.
+
+"A matter of taste!" said Lawrence, shrugging his shoulders. "But I am
+glad to have been through those rooms myself; and I never should, but
+for you, Mrs. Copley. I suppose there is hardly the like to be seen
+anywhere else."
+
+"What delicious things there were in the ivory room," said Dolly.
+"Those drunken musicians, mother, of Albert Dürer; and some of the
+vases; how beautiful they were!"
+
+"I did not see the musicians," said Mrs. Copley. "I don't see how
+drunken musicians, or drunken anything, could be pretty. Odd taste, I
+think."
+
+"Then perhaps you didn't like the piece with the fallen angels?" said
+Rupert. "That beat me!"
+
+"How could there be peace with the fallen angels?" Mrs. Copley asked
+scornfully. At which, however, there was a great burst of laughter. "I
+liked best of all the room where the egg was, I believe. But the silver
+room was magnificent."
+
+"I liked the ivory better than the silver, mother."
+
+"Who does it all belong to?" Rupert asked.
+
+"The reigning house of Saxony," Lawrence answered.
+
+"The whole of it?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And that big picture gallery into the bargain?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"That's bein' grasping, for any one family to have so much," was
+Rupert's conclusion.
+
+"Well, you see," said Lawrence, "we get the good of it, and they have
+the care."
+
+"I don't see how we get the good of it," said Mrs. Copley. "I suppose
+if I had one of those golden birds, now, with the eyes of diamonds; or
+one of those wonderfully chased silver caskets; I should have enough to
+keep me in comfort the rest of my life. _I_ think things are queer,
+somehow. One single one of those jewels that lie heaped up there, and I
+should want for nothing more in this world. And there they lie and
+nobody has 'em."
+
+"Do you want for anything now, mother dear?" asked Dolly. She was busy
+at a side table, arranging something in a little frame, and did not
+look up from her work.
+
+"I should think I did!" was Mrs. Copley's rejoinder. "What don't I
+want, from breath up?"
+
+"Here you have had one wish fulfilled to-day--you have seen the Green
+vaults--and now we are going to Venice to fulfil another wish--what
+would you have?"
+
+"I don't like to think I am going away from here. I like Dresden best
+of all the places we've been in. And I would like to go through the
+Green vaults--but why they are called so, I cannot conceive--about once
+every month. I would _never_ get tired."
+
+"So you would like to settle in Dresden?" said Lawrence. "I don't think
+it would be safe to let you go through the Green vaults often, Mrs.
+Copley; you would certainly be tempted too much for your principles.
+Miss Dolly, we had better get her away. When _do_ we go, by the by?"
+
+Instead of answering, Dolly rose up and brought him something to look
+at; a plain little oval frame of black wood within which was a head in
+light water colours.
+
+"Mrs. Copley!" exclaimed Lawrence.
+
+"Is it like?"
+
+"Striking! capital. I'm not much of a judge of painting in general, but
+I know a friend's face when I see it; and this is to the life. To the
+life! Graceful, too. Where did you get it?"
+
+"I got the paper and the paints at a little shop in--I forget the name
+of the _strasse;_--and mother was here to my hand. Ecco!"
+
+"You _don't_ mean you did it?" said Lawrence, while the others crowded
+near to look.
+
+"I used to amuse myself with that kind of thing when I was at school,
+and I had always a knack at catching likenesses. I am going to try you,
+Rupert, next."
+
+"Ah, try me!" cried Lawrence. "Will you? and we will stay in Dresden
+till it is done."
+
+"Suppose I succeed," said Dolly softly,--"will you get me orders?"
+
+"Orders?"
+
+"Yes. To paint likenesses, like this, in miniature. I can take ivory,
+but I would not waste ivory on this one. I'll do yours on ivory if you
+like."
+
+"But _orders?_" said Lawrence, dumbfounded.
+
+"Yes," said Dolly, nodding, "orders; and for as high pay as you think I
+can properly ask. Hush! say nothing to mother"----
+
+"Is that like me?" Mrs. Copley asked, after studying the little picture.
+
+"Capitally like you!" Lawrence cried.
+
+"Then I've changed more'n I thought I had, that's all. I don't think I
+care about your painting me any more, Dolly, if that's the best you can
+do."
+
+"Why, Mrs. Copley," said Lawrence, "it's beautiful. Exactly your turn
+of the head, and the delicate fresh colour in your cheeks. It's
+perfect!"
+
+"Is it?" said Mrs. Copley in a modified tone. "So that's what you've
+been fussing about, Dolly, these two days. Well, take Mr. St. Leger
+next. I want to see what you'll make of him. She won't flatter you,"
+the lady went on; "that's one thing you may lay your account with; she
+won't flatter you. But if we're going away, you won't have much chance;
+and, seems to me, we had better settle which way we are going."
+
+Lawrence did not take up this hint. He sat gazing at the little
+miniature, which was in its way very lovely. The colours were lightly
+laid in, the whole was rather sketchy; but the grace of the delineation
+was remarkable, and the likeness was perfect; and Dolly had shown a
+true artist's eye in her choice of position and point of view.
+
+"I did not know you had such a wonderful talent," he remarked.
+
+Dolly made no answer.
+
+"You'll do me next?"
+
+"If you like my conditions."
+
+"I do not understand them," he said, looking up at her.
+
+"I want orders," Dolly said almost in a whisper.
+
+"Orders? To paint things like this? For money? Nonsense, Dolly!"
+
+"As you please, Mr. St. Leger; then I will stay here a while and get
+work through Frau Wetterhahn. She wants me to paint _her_."
+
+"You never will!"
+
+"I'll try."
+
+"As a favour then?"
+
+Dolly lifted her eyes and smiled at the young man; a smile that utterly
+and wholly bewitched him. Wilful? yes, he thought it was wilful, but
+sweet and arch, and bright with hope and purpose and conscious
+independence; a little defiant, a great deal glad.
+
+"Paint me," said he hastily, "and I'll give you anything you like."
+
+Dolly nodded. "Very well," said she; "then you may talk with mother
+about our route."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+LIMBURG.
+
+Lawrence did talk with Mrs. Copley; and the result of the discussion
+was that the decision and management of their movements was finally
+made over to him. Whether it happened by design or not, the good lady's
+head was quite confused among the different plans suggested; she could
+understand nothing of it, she said; and so it all fell into Lawrence's
+hand. I think that was what he wanted, and that he had views of his own
+to gratify; for Dolly, who had been engaged with other matters this
+time, expressed some surprise a day or two after they set out, at
+finding herself again in Weimar.
+
+"Going back the way we came?" she cried.
+
+"Only for a little distance--a few stages," explained Lawrence; "after
+that it will be all new."
+
+Dolly did not much care, nor know enough to correct him if he was going
+wrong; she gave herself up to hopeful enjoyment of the constantly
+varying new scenes and sights. Mrs. Copley, on the contrary, seemed
+able to enjoy nothing beyond the shortening of the distance between her
+and Venice. If she had known how much longer than was necessary
+Lawrence had made it!
+
+So it happened that they were going one day down a pleasant road which
+led along a river valley, when an exclamation from Dolly roused her
+mother out of a half nap. "What is it?" she asked.
+
+"Mother, such a beautiful, beautiful old church! Look--see how it sits
+up there grandly on the rock."
+
+"Very inconvenient, I should think," said Mrs. Copley, giving a glance
+out of the carriage window. "I shouldn't think people would like to
+mount up there often."
+
+"I believe," said Lawrence, also looking out now, "that must be a
+famous old church--isn't this Limburg?--yes. It is the cathedral at
+Limburg; a very fine specimen of its style, Miss Dolly, they say."
+
+"What is the style? it's beautiful! Gothic?"
+
+"No,--aw--not exactly. I'm not learned myself, really, in such matters.
+I hardly know a good thing when I see it--never studied antiquities,
+you know; but this is said, I know, to be a very good thing."
+
+"How old? It does not look antiquated."
+
+"Oh, it has been repaired and restored. But it is not Gothic, so it
+dates further back; what they call the Transition style."
+
+"It is very noble," said Dolly. "Is it as good inside as outside?"
+
+"Don't know, I declare; I suppose so. We might go in and see; let the
+horses feed and Mrs. Copley take a rest."
+
+This proposition was received with such joy by Dolly that it was at
+once acted upon. The party sought out an inn, bespoke some luncheon,
+and arranged for Mrs. Copley's repose. But chancing to hear from
+Lawrence that the treasures of art and value in the church repositories
+were both rich and rare, she gave up the promised nap and joined the
+party who went to the dome. After the Dresden Green vaults, she said,
+she supposed nothing new could be found; but she would go and see. So
+they went all together. If Lawrence had guessed to what this chance
+visit would lead! But that is precisely what people can never know.
+
+Dolly was in a condition of growing delight, which every step
+increased. Before the great front of the cathedral she stood still and
+looked up, while Rupert and Mrs. Copley turned their backs and gazed
+out upon the wide country view. Lawrence, as usual when he could,
+attended upon Dolly.
+
+"I did not know you were so fond of _this_ kind of thing," he remarked,
+seeing a little enviously her bright, interested eyes.
+
+"It lifts me almost off my feet!" said Dolly. "My soul don't seem big
+enough to take it all in. How grand, how grand!--Whose statues are
+those?"
+
+"On each side?" said Lawrence, who had been collecting information.
+"That on the one hand is Heinrich von Isenburg, the founder; and the
+other is the architect, but nobody knows his name. It is lost. St.
+George is on the top there."
+
+"Well," said Dolly, "he is just as well off as if it hadn't been lost!"
+
+"Who? the architect? How do you make that out? He loses all the glory."
+
+"How does he lose it? Do you think," said Dolly, smiling, "he would
+care, in the other world, to know that you and I liked his work?"
+
+"The other world!" said St. Leger.
+
+"You believe in it, don't you?"
+
+"Yes, certainly; but you speak as if"----
+
+"As if I believed in it!" said Dolly merrily. "You speak as if you
+didn't."
+
+"I do, I assure you; but what is fame then?"
+
+"Nothing at all," said Dolly.--"Just nothing at all; if you mean
+people's admiration or applause given when we have gone beyond reach of
+it."
+
+"Beyond reach of it!" said Lawrence, echoing her words again. "Miss
+Dolly, do you think it is no use to have one's name honoured by all the
+world for ages after we have lived?"
+
+"Very good for the world," said Dolly, with a spice of amusement
+visible again.
+
+"And nothing to the man?"
+
+"What should it be to the man?" said Dolly, seriously enough now. "Mr.
+St. Leger, when a man has got beyond this world with its little cares
+and interests, there will be just one question for him,--whether he has
+done what God put him here to do; and there will be just one word of
+praise that he will care about,--the 'Well done!'--if he may have
+it,--from those lips."
+
+Dolly began quietly, but her colour flushed and her lip trembled as she
+went on, and her eye sparkled through a sudden veil of tears. Lawrence
+was silenced by admiration, and almost forgot what they were talking
+about.
+
+"But don't you think," he began again, as Dolly moved towards the
+church door, "that the one thing--I mean, the praise here,--will be a
+sort of guaranty for the praise there?"
+
+"No," said Dolly. "That which is highly esteemed among men is
+abomination in the sight of God--often, often." She pushed open the
+door and went in. Only a little way in; there she stood still, arrested
+by all the glory and the beauty that met her eye. The nobleness of
+form, the wealth of colour, the multiplied richness of both, almost
+bewildered her at first entering. Pillars, arches, vaultings, niches,
+galleries, arcades--a wilderness of harmonised form; and every panel
+and fair space filled with painting. She could not see details yet; she
+was lost in the greatness of the whole.
+
+"Whom has Mrs. Copley picked up?" asked Lawrence in an undertone. After
+all, if the architect's posthumous fame had depended on him, it would
+not have been worth much effort. Mrs. Copley, it may be mentioned, had
+passed on while Dolly and St. Leger had stood talking outside; and now
+she was seen in the distance the centre of a group of lively talkers;
+at least there was one lady who was free to exercise her gifts in that
+way. Lawrence and Dolly slowly advanced, even Dolly's attention taken
+for a moment from the church by this extraordinary combination. Yes,
+Mrs. Copley had found acquaintances. The talker was a lady of about her
+own age; a gentleman stood near, a little behind was a younger lady,
+while Rupert balanced the group on the other side.
+
+"There's something uncommon over yonder," whispered Lawrence. "Do you
+see that blond girl? not blond neither, for her hair isn't; but what an
+exquisite colour!--and magnificent figure. Do you know her?"
+
+"No," said Dolly,--"I think not. Yet I do. Who can it be? I do not know
+the one talking to mother."
+
+"And this is she?" the elder lady was saying as Dolly now came up,
+looking at her with a smiling face. "It's quite delightful to meet
+friends in the midst of a wilderness so; like the print of a man's foot
+on the sands in a desert; for really, in the midst of strange people
+one feels cast away. She's handsomer than you were, Mrs. Copley. My
+dear, do you know your old schoolfellow?"
+
+"Christina Thayer!" exclaimed Dolly, as the other young lady came
+forward; and there was a joyful recognition on both sides.
+
+"Who is your friend?" Mrs. Thayer next went on. "Won't you introduce
+him?--St. Leger? Don't I know your father? Ernest Singleton St.
+Leger?--Yes! Why, he was a great beau of mine once, a good while ago,
+you know," she added, nodding. "You might not think it, but he was. Oh,
+I know him very well; I know him like a book. You must be my friend.
+Christina, this is Mr. St. Leger; my old friend's son.--Mr. Thayer."
+
+Mr. Thayer was nothing remarkable. But Christina had fulfilled the
+promise of her girlhood, and developed into a magnificent beauty. Her
+skin showed the richest, clear, creamy white tints, upon which in her
+cheeks and lips the carmine lay like rose leaves. Her hair was light
+brown and abundant, features regular, eyes sweet; she was one of those
+fair, full, stately, placid Saxon types of beauty, which are not very
+common in America and remarkable anywhere. Her figure was roundly and
+finely developed, rather stately and slow moving; which characteristic
+harmonised with all the rest of her. The two girls were as unlike each
+other as possible. It amused and half fascinated Lawrence to watch the
+contrast. It seemed to be noon of a summer day in the soul of
+Christina, a still breadth of light without shadow; there was a murmur
+of content in her voice when she spoke, and a ripple of content in her
+laugh when she laughed. But the light quivered on Dolly's lip, and
+gleamed and sparkled in her brown eyes, and light and shadow could flit
+over her face with quick change; they did so now.
+
+Meanwhile people had forgotten the old cathedral. Christina seemed
+unaffectedly glad at the meeting with her friend of the school days.
+
+"I'm so delighted," she said, drawing Dolly a little apart. "Where are
+you? where do you come from, I mean? How come you to be here?"
+
+"We come from Dresden; we are on our way"----
+
+"You are living in London, aren't you? I heard that. It's too good to
+meet you so! for Europe is full of people, no doubt, but there are very
+few that I care for. Oh, tell me where you are going?"
+
+"Venice first."
+
+"And further south? you are going on into Italy?"
+
+"Yes, I think so."
+
+"That's delightful. Oh, there's nothing like Italy! It is not your
+wedding journey, Dolly?"--with a glance at the very handsome young man
+who was standing in waiting a few paces off.
+
+"What are you thinking of!" cried Dolly. "Christina, we are travelling
+for mother's health."
+
+"Oh, well, I didn't suppose it; but it might be, you know; it will be,
+before you know it. It isn't _mine_, either; though it only wants two
+things of it. Oh, I want to tell you all about myself, Dolly, and I
+want to show you somebody; I have got somebody to show, you see. You
+will come and make us a visit, will you not? Oh, you must! I must have
+you."
+
+"You said it wanted only _two things_ of being your wedding journey?
+What things?"
+
+"The presence of the gentleman, and the performance of the ceremony."
+And as Christina said it, a delicate peach-blossom bloom ripened in her
+cheeks; you could hardly say that she blushed. "Oh, the gentleman is
+somewhere, though he is not here," she went on, with that ripple of
+laughter; "and the ceremony is somewhere in the distance, too. I want
+you to see him, Dolly. I am proud of him. I think everything in the
+world of him."
+
+"I suppose I may know his name?"
+
+"Christina," cried Mrs. Thayer, "where are you? My dear, we cannot
+stand here and talk all the afternoon; our friends have got to see the
+church. Isn't it a delicious old place? Just go round and examine
+things; I could stay here for ever. Every little place where there is
+room for it is filled with the quaintest, queerest, charmingest
+paintings. Where there is room for it, there is a group; and where
+there is not a group, there is an apostle or a saint; and where there
+is not room for that, there is something else, which this
+unintelligible old guide will explain to you. And think--for years and
+years it has held the richest collection--oh, just wait and see! it is
+better than the church itself. My dear, the riches of its treasures are
+incalculable. Fancy, a mitre, a bishop's mitre, you know, so heavy with
+precious stones that the good man cannot bear it on his head but a few
+minutes; over three thousand pearls and precious stones in it; and the
+work, oh, the work of it is wonderful! just in the finest
+Renaissance"----
+
+"We have just come from the Green vaults at Dresden," put in Mrs.
+Copley. "I suppose that goes ahead of everything else."
+
+"Oh, my dear, I don't know; I don't see how anything can be superior to
+the show here. Is Mr. St. Leger fond of art?"
+
+"Fonder of nature," Mr. St. Leger confesses with a bow.
+
+"Nature,--well, come to see us at Naples. We have got a villa not far
+from there--you'll _all_ come and stay with us. Oh, we cannot let you
+off; it is such a thing to meet with one's own people from home. You
+will certainly want to see us, and we shall want to see you. Venice, oh
+yes, after you have seen Venice, and then we shall be at home again; we
+just set off on this journey to use up the time until the 'Red Chief'
+could come to Naples. We are going back soon, and we'll be all ready to
+welcome you. And Mr. St. Leger, of course. Mr. St. Leger, I could tell
+you a great deal about your father. He and I flirted dreadfully once;
+and, you know, if flirting is _properly_ carried on, one always has a
+little sneaking kindness for the people one has flirted with."
+
+"No more than that?" said St. Leger with a polite smile.
+
+"Why, what would you have? after one has grown old, you know. You would
+not have me in love with him! Here is my husband and my daughter. Don't
+you have a kindness for the people you flirt with?"
+
+"I must not say anything against flirting, in the present company"----
+Lawrence began.
+
+"No, of course you mustn't. We all flirt, at a certain age. How are
+young people to get acquainted with one another and find out what they
+would like? You never buy cheese without tasting it, you know, not in
+England. Just as well call things by their right names. I don't think
+anybody ought to deny flirting; it's nature; we must do it. Christina
+flirts, I know, in the most innocent way, with everybody; not as I did;
+she has her own style; and your daughter does it too, Mrs. Copley. I
+can see it in her eyes. Ah me, I wish I was young again! And what a
+place to flirt in such an old church is!"
+
+"O mamma!" came from Christina.
+
+"Very queer taste, I should say," remarked Mrs. Copley.
+
+"It isn't taste; it is combination of circumstances," Mrs. Thayer,
+smiling, went on. "You see if I don't say true. My dear, such a place
+as this is full of romance, full! Just think of the people that have
+been married here; why, the first church was built here in 814; imagine
+that!"
+
+"Enough to keep one from flirting for ever," said Dolly, on whom the
+lady's eye fell as she ended her sentence.
+
+"Just go in and see those jewels and hear the stories," said Mrs.
+Thayer, nodding at her. "That old woman will tell you stories enough,
+if you can understand her; Christina had to translate for me; but, my
+dear, there's a story there fit to break your heart; about a blood
+jasper. It is carved; Mr. Thayer says the carving is very fine, and I
+suppose it is; but all I thought of was the story. My dear, the stone
+is all spotted with dark stains, and they are said to be the stains of
+heart's blood. Oh, it is as tragical as can be. You see, the carver, or
+stone-cutter,--the young man who did the work,--loved his master's
+daughter--it's a very romantic story--and she"----
+
+"Flirted?" suggested St. Leger.
+
+"Well, I am afraid she did; but it is the old course of things; her
+father thought she might look higher, you know, and she _did;_ married
+the richest nobleman in Verona; and the young man had been promised her
+if he did his work well, and the work is magnificently done; but he was
+cheated; and he drove a sharp little knife into his heart. Christina,
+what was the old master's name?"
+
+"I forget, mamma."
+
+"You ought not to forget; you will want to tell the story. Of course
+_I_ have forgotten; I did not understand it at the time, and I never
+remember anything besides; but he was very famous, and everybody wanted
+the things he did, and he could not execute all the commissions he got;
+and this young man was his best favourite pupil."
+
+"How came the stains upon the stone?" asked Lawrence. "Did it bleed for
+sympathy?"
+
+"I don't know; I have forgotten. Oh yes! the stone was in his hand, you
+know."
+
+"And it was sympathy?" said Lawrence quite gravely, though Dolly could
+not keep her lips in order.
+
+"No, it was the blood. Go in and you'll see it, and all the rest. And
+there---- Where are you going? to Venice? We are going on to Cologne
+and then back to Rome. We shall meet in Rome? You will stay in Venice
+for a few weeks, and then be in Rome about Christmas; and then we will
+make arrangements for a visit from you all. Oh yes, we must have you
+all."
+
+Lawrence accompanied the lady to the door, and Christina following with
+Dolly earnestly begged for the meeting in Rome, and that Dolly would
+spend Christmas with her. "I have so much to tell you," she said; "and
+my--the gentleman I spoke of--will meet us in Rome; and he will spend
+Christmas with us; and I want you to see him. I admire Mr. St. Leger,
+very much!" she added in a confidential whisper.
+
+"Mr. St. Leger is nothing to me," said Dolly steadily, looking in her
+friend's face. "He is father's secretary, and is taking care of us till
+my father can come."
+
+"Oh, well, if he is not anything to you _now_, perhaps--you never know
+what will be," said Christina. "He is very handsome! Don't you like
+him? I long to know how you will like--Mr. Rayner."
+
+"Who is he?" said Dolly, by way of saying something.
+
+"Didn't I tell yon? He is first officer on board the 'Red Chief,' one
+of our finest vessels of war; it is in the Mediterranean now; and we
+expect him to come to us at Christmas. Manage to be at Rome then, do,
+dear; and afterwards you must all come and make us a visit at our
+villa, near Naples, and we'll show you everything."
+
+"Christina," said Mrs. Thayer, when she and her daughter and her
+husband were safe in the privacy of their carriage, "that is a son of
+the rich English banker, St. Leger; they are _very_ rich. We must be
+polite to him."
+
+"You are polite to everybody, mamma."
+
+"But _you_ must be polite to him."
+
+"I'll try, mamma--if you wish it."
+
+"I wish it, of course. You never know how useful such an acquaintance
+may be to you. Is he engaged to that girl?"
+
+"I think not, mamma. She says not."
+
+"That don't prove anything, though."
+
+"Yes, it does, with her. Dolly Copley was always downright--not like
+the rest."
+
+"Every girl thinks it is fair to fib about her lovers. However, I
+thought _he_ looked at you, Christina, not exactly as if he were a
+bound man."
+
+"He is too late," said the girl carelessly. "I am a bound woman."
+
+"Well, be civil to him," said her mother. "You never know what people
+may do."
+
+"I don't care, mamma. Mr. St. Leger's doings are of no importance to
+me."
+
+Mrs. Thayer was silent now; and her husband remarked that Mr. St. Leger
+could not do better than pick up that pretty, wise-eyed little girl.
+
+"Wise-eyed! she is that, isn't she?" cried Christina. "She always was.
+She is grown up wonderfully pretty."
+
+"She is no more to be compared to you, than--well, never mind," said
+Mrs. Thayer. "I hope we shall see more of them at Christmas. Talk of
+eyes,--Mr. St. Leger's eyes are beautiful. Did you notice them?"
+
+Dolly on her side had seen the party descend the rocks, looking after
+them with an odd feeling or mixture of feelings. The meeting with her
+school friend had brought up sudden contrasts never so sharply
+presented to her before. The gay carelessness of those old times, the
+warm shelter of her Aunt Hal's home, the absolute trust in her father
+and mother,--where was all that now? Dolly saw Christina's placid
+features and secure gaiety, saw her surrounded and sheltered by her
+parents' arms, strong to guard and defend her; and she seemed to
+herself lonely. It fell to her to guard and defend her mother; and her
+father? what was he about?--There swept over her an exceeding bitter
+cry of desolateness, unuttered, but as it were the cry of her whole
+soul; with again that sting of pain which seemed unendurable, how can a
+father let his child be ashamed of him! She turned away that St. Leger
+might not see her face; she felt it was terribly grave; and betook
+herself now to the examination of the church.
+
+And the still beauty and loftiness of the place wrought upon her by and
+by with a strange effect. Wandering along among pillars and galleries
+and arcades, where saints and apostles and martyrs looked down upon her
+as out of past ages, she seemed to be surrounded by a "great cloud of
+witnesses." They looked down upon her with grave, high sympathy, or
+they looked up with grave, high love and trust; they testified to work
+done and dangers met, and suffering borne, for Christ,--and to the
+glory awaiting them, and to which they then looked forward, and which
+now they had been enjoying--how long? What mattered the little troubled
+human day, so that heaven's long sunshine set in at the end of it? And
+that sun "shall no more go down." Dolly roved on and on, going from one
+to another sometimes lovely sometimes stern old image; and gradually
+she forgot the nineteenth century, and dropped back into the past, and
+so came to take a distant and impartial view of herself and her own
+life; getting a better standard by which to measure the one and
+regulate the other. She too could live and work for Christ. What though
+the work were different and less noteworthy; what matter, so that she
+were doing what He gave her to do? Not to make a noise in the world,
+either by preaching or dying; not to bear persecution; just to live
+true and shine, to comfort and cheer her mother, to reclaim and save
+her father, to trust and be glad! Yes, less than that latter would not
+do full honour to her Master or His truth; and so much as that He would
+surely help her to attain. Dolly wandered about the cathedral, and
+mused, and prayed, and grew quiet and strong, she thought; while her
+mother was viewing the church treasures with Mr. St. Leger, Dolly
+excused herself, preferring the church.
+
+"Dolly, Dolly," said Mrs. Copley when at last she came away, "you don't
+know what you have lost."
+
+"It is not so much as I have gained, mother."
+
+"I'm glad we have seen it, Mr. St. Leger; and I'm glad we have done
+with it! I don't want to see any more sights till we get to Venice.
+Where are the Thayers going, Dolly?"
+
+"To Cologne, mother, and to Nice and Mentone, they said."
+
+"I wish they were coming to Venice. How fat Christina has grown!"
+
+"O mother! She is a regular beauty--she could not do with less flesh;
+she ought not to lose an ounce of it. She is not fat. She is perfect.
+Is she not, Mr. St. Leger?"
+
+Lawrence assented that Miss Thayer had the symmetry of a beautiful
+statue.
+
+"Too fat," said Mrs. Copley. "If she is a statue now, what will she be
+by and by? I don't like that sort of beauties. Her face wants life."
+
+"It does not want sweetness," said Lawrence. "It is a very attractive
+face."
+
+"I am glad we stopped here, if it was only for the meeting them," said
+Mrs. Copley. "But I can't see how you could miss all those diamonds and
+gold and silver things, Dolly. They were just wonderful."
+
+"All the Green vaults did not give me the pleasure this old church did,
+mother."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+VENICE.
+
+"You and your friend are the most perfect contrast," remarked Lawrence
+as they were driving away. "She is repose in action--and you are
+activity in repose."
+
+"That sounds well," Dolly answered after a pause. "I am trying to think
+whether there is any meaning in it."
+
+"Certainly; or I hope so. She is placidity itself; one wonders if she
+could be anything but placid; while you"----
+
+"Never mind about me," said Dolly hastily. "I am longing to know
+whether mother will like Venice."
+
+"Shall you?"
+
+"Oh, I like everything."
+
+Which was the blissful truth. Even anxiety did not prevent its being
+the truth; perhaps anxiety even at times put a keener edge upon
+enjoyment; Dolly fled from troublesome thoughts to the beauties of a
+landscape, the marvels of a piece of mediaeval architecture, the
+bewitchment of a bit of painting from an old master's hand; and tasted,
+and lingered, and tasted over again in memory, all the beauty and the
+marvel and the bewitchment. Lawrence smiled to himself at the thought
+of what she would find in Venice.
+
+"There's one thing I don't make out," Rupert broke in.
+
+"Only one?" said Lawrence. But the other was too intent to heed him.
+
+"It bothers me, why the people that could build such a grand church,
+couldn't make better houses for themselves."
+
+"Ah!" said Lawrence. "You manage that better in America?"
+
+"If we didn't--I'd emigrate! We don't have such splendid things as that
+old pile of stones,"--looking back at the dome,--"but our farmhouses
+are a long sight ahead of this country."
+
+"I guess, Rupert," Dolly remarked now, "the men that built the dome did
+not build the farmhouses."
+
+"Who built the dome, as you call it, then? But I don't see any dome;
+there's only a nest of towers."
+
+"The nobles built the great cathedrals."
+
+"And if you went through one of _their_ houses," said Lawrence, "you
+would not think they neglected number one. You never saw anything like
+an old German _schloss_ in America."
+
+"Then the nobles had all the money?"
+
+"Pretty much so. Except the rich merchants in some of the cities; and
+_they_ built grand churches and halls and the like, and made themselves
+happy with magnificence at home in other ways; not architecture."
+
+"I am glad I don't belong here," said Rupert. "But don't the people
+know any better?"
+
+"Than what?"
+
+"Than to let the grand folks have it all their own way?"
+
+"They were brought up to it," said Lawrence. "That's just what they
+like."
+
+"I expect they'll wake up some day," said Rupert. Which observation
+Lawrence did not think worthy of answer; as it was ahead of the time
+and of him equally.
+
+They made no unnecessary delay now in going on to Venice. I think
+Lawrence had had a secret design to see some one of the great gaming
+watering-places; and they had come back to the banks of the Rhine on
+purpose. But, however, both Dolly and her mother were in such haste
+that he could not induce them by any motive of curiosity or interest to
+stop. Dolly indeed had a great horror of those places, and did not
+want, she said, to see how beautiful they were. She hoped for her
+father's coming to them in Venice; and Mrs. Copley with the nervous
+restlessness of an invalid had set her mind on that goal, and would not
+look at anything short of it. So they only passed through Wiesbaden and
+went on.
+
+But Dolly did want to see Switzerland. When the party came to the lake
+of Constance, however, Mrs. Copley declined that proposal. Everybody
+went to Switzerland, she said; and she did not care about it. The hope
+would have fallen through, only that Lawrence, seeing Dolly's
+disappointment, proposed taking a route through the Tyrol.
+Comparatively few people went there, he assured Mrs. Copley; and
+furthermore, that it was as good a way to Venice as any other. Mrs.
+Copley gave consent;  and to Dolly's immeasurable and inexpressible
+satisfaction through the Tyrol they went.  Nothing could spoil it, even
+although Mrs. Copley every day openly regretted her concession and
+would have taken it back if she could. The one of them was heartily
+sorry, the other as deeply contented, when finally the plains of
+Lombardy were reached.
+
+It was evening and rainy weather when they came to the last stage of
+their journey, and left the carriage of which Mrs. Copley had grown so
+weary.
+
+"What sort of a place is this?" she asked presently.
+
+"Not much of a place," said Lawrence. "We will leave it as fast as
+possible."
+
+"Well, I should hope so. What are these things? and is that a canal?"
+
+"We should call it a canal in our country," said Rupert; "but _there_
+there'd be something at the end of it."
+
+"But what are those black things?" Mrs. Copley repeated. "Do you want
+me to get into one of them? I don't like it."
+
+"They are gondolas, mother; Venetian gondolas. We must get into one, if
+we want to go to Venice."
+
+"Where is Venice?" said Mrs. Copley, looking over the unpromising
+landscape.
+
+"I don't know," said Dolly, laughing, "but Mr. St. Leger knows. We
+shall be there in a little while mother, if you'll only get in."
+
+"I don't like boats. And I never saw such boats as those in my life,"
+said Mrs. Copley, holding back. "I would rather keep the carriage and
+go on as we came; though all my bones are aching. I would rather go in
+the carriage."
+
+"But you cannot, mother; there are no carriages here. The way is by
+water; and boats are the only vehicles used in Venice. We may as well
+get accustomed to them."
+
+"No carriages!"
+
+"Why, surely you knew that before."
+
+"I didn't. I knew there were things to go on the canals; I never knew
+they were such forlorn-looking things; but I supposed there were
+carriages to go in the streets. Are there no carts either? How is the
+baggage going?"
+
+"There are no streets, mother. The ways are all water ways, and the
+carriages are gondolas; and it is just as lovely as it can be. Come,
+let us try it."
+
+"What are the houses built on?"
+
+"Mother, suppose you get in, and we'll talk as we go along. We had
+better get out of the rain; don't you think so? It is falling quite
+fast."
+
+"I had rather be in the rain than in the sea. Dolly, if it isn't too
+far, I'll walk."
+
+"It is too far, dear mother. You could not do that. It is a long way
+yet."
+
+Lawrence stood by, biting his lips between impatience and a sense of
+the ridiculous; and withal admiring the tender, delicate patience of
+the girl who gently coaxed and reasoned and persuaded, and finally
+moved Mrs. Copley to suffer herself to be put in the gondola, on the
+forward deck of which Rupert had been helping the gondoliers to stow
+some of the baggage. Dolly immediately took her place beside her
+mother; the two young men followed, and the gondola pushed off. Mrs.
+Copley found herself comfortable among the cushions, felt that the
+motion of the gondola was smooth, assured herself that it would not
+turn over; finally felt at leisure to make observations again.
+
+"We can't see anything here," she remarked, peering out first on one
+side, then on the other.
+
+"There is nothing to see," said Lawrence, "but the banks of the canal."
+
+"Very ugly banks, too. Are we going all the way by water now?"
+
+"All the way, to our hotel door."
+
+"Do the boatmen know where to go?"
+
+"Yes. Have no fear."
+
+"Why don't they have streets in Venice?"
+
+"Mother, don't you remember, the city is built on sand banks, and the
+sea flows between? The only streets possible are like this. Could
+anything be better? This motion will not fatigue you; and are not your
+cushions comfortable?"
+
+"The _sea_, Dolly?" cried Mrs. Copley, catching the word. "You never
+told me that. If the sea comes in, it must be rough sometimes."
+
+"No, mother; it is a shallow level for miles and miles, covered at high
+tide by a few feet of water, and at low tide bare. Venice is built on
+the sand banks of islands which rise above this level."
+
+"What ever made people choose such a ridiculous place to build a city,
+when there was good ground enough?"
+
+"The good ground was not safe from enemies, mother, dear. The people
+fled to these sand islands for safety."
+
+"Enemies! What enemies?"
+
+So the history had to be further gone into; in the midst of which Mrs.
+Copley burst out again.
+
+"I'm so tired of this canal!--just mud banks and nothing else. How much
+longer is it to last?"
+
+"We shall come to something else by and by. Have patience," said
+Lawrence.
+
+But the patience of three of them was tried, before they fairly emerged
+from the canal, and across a broader water saw the lines of building
+and the domes of Venice before them.
+
+"You'll soon be out of the gondola now, mother, dear," said Dolly
+delightedly. For the rain clouds had lifted a little, and the wide
+spread of the lagoon became visible, as well as the dim line of the
+city; and Dolly's heart grew big. Mrs. Copley's was otherwise.
+
+"I'll never get into one again," she said, referring to the gondolas.
+"I don't like it. I don't feel as if I was anywhere. There's
+another,--there's two more. Are they all painted black?"
+
+"It is the fashion of Venetian gondolas."
+
+"Well! there is nothing like seeing for yourself. I always had an idea
+gondolas were something romantic and pretty. Is the water deep here?"
+
+"No, very shallow," Lawrence assured her.
+
+"It looks just as if it was deep. I wouldn't have come to Venice if I
+had known what a forlorn place it is."
+
+But who shall tell the different impression on Dolly's mind, when the
+city was really reached and the gondola entered one of those narrow
+water-ways between rows of palaces. The rain had begun to come down
+again, it is true; a watery veil hung over the buildings, drops plashed
+busily into the canal; there were no beautiful effects of sunlight and
+shadow; and Lawrence himself declared it was a miserable coming to
+Venice. But Dolly was in a charmed state. She noted eagerly every
+strange detail; bridges, boats, people; was hardly sorry for the rain,
+she found so much to delight her in spite of it.
+
+"What's our man making such noises for?" cried Mrs. Copley.
+
+"Just to give warning before he turns a corner," Lawrence explained,
+"lest he should run against another gondola."
+
+"What would happen then? Is the water deep enough to drown? It would be
+horrid water to be drowned in!" said Mrs. Copley shuddering.
+
+"No danger, mother; we are not going to try it," Dolly said soothingly.
+
+"Nobody is ever drowned in Venetian canals," said Lawrence. "They will
+carry us safe to our hotel, Mrs. Copley; never fear."
+
+"But hasn't the water risen?" she exclaimed presently.
+
+"It is up to the steps of that house there."
+
+"It is up to all the steps, mother, so that people can get into their
+gondolas at their very door; don't you see?"
+
+"It goes ahead of everything!" exclaimed Rupert, who had scarce spoken.
+"It's like being in a fairy story."
+
+"I can't see much beside water," said Mrs. Copley. "Water above and
+water below. It must be unhealthy. And I thought Venice had such
+beautiful old palaces. I don't see any of 'em."
+
+"We have passed several of them," said Lawrence.
+
+"I can see nothing but black walls--except those queer painted sticks;
+what are _they_ for?"
+
+"To the gondolas in waiting."
+
+"What are they painted so for?"
+
+"The colours belonging to the family arms."
+
+"Whose family?"
+
+"The family to whom the house belongs."
+
+"Dolly," said Mrs. Copley, "we shall not want to stay here long. We
+might go on and try Rome. Mrs. Thayer says spring-time is the best at
+Naples."
+
+"It will all look very different, Mrs. Copley, when you see it by
+sunlight," said Lawrence. "Wait a little."
+
+Dolly would have enjoyed every inch of the way, if her mother would
+have let her. To her eyes the novel strangeness of the scene was
+entrancing. Not beautiful, certainly; not beautiful yet; by mist and
+rain and darkness how should it be? but she relished the novelty. The
+charmed stillness pleased her; the gliding gondolas; the but half
+revealed houses and palaces; the odd conveyance in which she herself
+was seated; the wonderful water-ways, the strange cries of the
+gondoliers. It was not half spoiled for her, as it was; and she trusted
+the morning would bring for her mother a better mood.
+
+Something of a better mood was produced that evening when Mrs. Copley
+found herself in a warm room, before a good supper. But the next
+morning it still rained. Dark skies, thick atmosphere, a gloomy outlook
+upon ways where no traveller for mere pleasure was to be seen; none but
+people bent on business of one sort or another. Yet everything was
+delightful to Dolly's eyes; the novelty was perfect, the
+picturesqueness undeniable. What she could see of the lagoon, of the
+vessels at anchor, the flying gondolas, the canals and the bridges over
+them, and the beautiful Riva, put Dolly in a rapture. Her eye roved,
+her heart swelled. "O mother!" she exclaimed, "if father would only
+come!"
+
+"What then?" said Mrs Copley dismally. "He would take us away, I hope."
+
+"Oh, but not until we have seen Venice."
+
+"_I_ have seen Venice enough to content me. It is the wettest place I
+was ever in my life."
+
+"Why, it rains, mother. Any place is wet when it rains."
+
+"This would be wet at all times. I think the ground must have sunk,
+Dolly; people would never have built in the water so. The ground must
+have sunk."
+
+"No, mother; I guess not. It has been always just so."
+
+"What made them build here then, when there is all the earth beside?
+What did they take to the water for? And what are the houses standing
+on, any way?"
+
+"Islands, mother, between which these canals run. I told you before."
+
+"I should think the people hadn't any sense."
+
+And nothing would tempt Mrs. Copley out that day. Of course Dolly must
+stay at home too, though she would most gladly have gone about through
+the rainy, silent city, in one of those silent gondolas, and feed her
+eyes at every step. However, she made herself and made her mother as
+comfortable as she could; got out her painting and worked at Rupert's
+portrait, which was so successful that Lawrence begged she would begin
+upon him at once.
+
+"You know the conditions," she said.
+
+"I accept them. Finish one of me so good as that, and I will send it to
+my mother and ask her what she will give for it."
+
+"But not tell her?"----
+
+"Certainly not."
+
+"I find," said Dolly slowly, "that it is a very great compliment for a
+lady to paint a gentleman's likeness."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"She has to give so much attention to the lines of his face. I
+shouldn't like to paint some people. But I'll do anybody, for a
+consideration."
+
+"Your words are not flattering," said Lawrence, "even if your actions
+are."
+
+"No," said Dolly. "Compliments are not in my way."
+
+And though she made a beginning upon St. Leger's picture, and studied
+the lines of his face accordingly, he did not feel flattered. Dolly's
+clear, intelligent eyes looked at him as steadily and as unmovedly as
+if he had been a Titian.
+
+The next day brought a change. If Dolly had watched from her balcony
+with interest the day before, now she was breathless with what she
+found. The sun was shining bright, a breeze was rippling the waters of
+the lagoon, and gently fluttering a sail and a streamer here and there;
+the beautiful water was enlivened with vessels of all kinds and of many
+lands, black gondolas darted about; and the buildings lining the shores
+of the lagoon stood to view in their beauty and magnificence and
+variety before Dolly's eye; the Doge's palace, here and there a clock
+tower, here and there the bridge over a side canal. "O mother!" she
+cried, "we have seen nothing like this! nothing like this!"
+
+"I am glad it don't rain at least," said Mrs. Copley. "But it can't be
+healthy here, Dolly; it must be damp."
+
+And when they all met at breakfast, and plans for the day began to be
+discussed, she declared that she did not want to see anything.
+
+"Not St. Mark's?" said Lawrence.
+
+"What is St. Mark's? It is just a church. I am sure we have seen
+churches enough."
+
+"There is only one St. Mark's in the world."
+
+"I don't care if there were a dozen. Is it better than the church we
+went to see--at that village near Wiesbaden?"
+
+"Limburg? Much better."
+
+"Well--that will do for me."
+
+"There is the famous old palace of the Doges; and the Bridge of Sighs,
+Mrs. Copley, and the prisons."
+
+"Prisons? You don't think I want to go looking at prisons, do you? Why
+should I? what's in the prisons?"
+
+"Not much. There has been, first and last, a good deal of misery in
+them."
+
+"And you think that is pleasant to look at?"
+
+Dolly could not help laughing, and confessed she would like to see the
+prisons.
+
+"Well, you may go," said her mother. "_I_ don't want to."
+
+Lawrence saw that Dolly's disappointment was like to be bitter.
+
+"I'll tell you what I'll show you, Mrs. Copley, if you'll trust
+yourself to go out," he said. "I have got a commission from my mother
+which must take me into one of the wonderful shops of curiosities here.
+You never saw such a shop. Old china, of the rarest, and old furniture
+of the most delightful description, and old curiosities of art out of
+decayed old palaces, caskets, vases, trinkets, mirrors, and paintings."
+
+Mrs. Copley demurred. "Can we go there in a carriage?"
+
+"No such thing to be had, except a gondola carriage. Come! you will
+like it. Why, Mrs. Copley, the streets are no broader than very narrow
+alleys. Carriages would be of no use."
+
+Mrs. Copley demurred, but was tempted. The gondola went better by day
+than in the night. Once out, Lawrence used his advantage and took the
+party first to the Place of St. Mark, where he delighted Dolly with a
+sight of the church. Mrs. Copley was too full of something else to
+admire churches. She waited and endured, while Dolly's eyes and mind
+devoured the new feast given to them. They went into the church, up to
+the roof, and came out to the Piazza again.
+
+"It is odd," said Dolly--"I see it is beautiful; I see it is
+magnificent; more of both than I can say; and yet, it does not give me
+the feeling of respect I felt for that old dome at Limburg."
+
+"But," said Lawrence; "that won't do, you know. St. Mark's and Limburg!
+that opinion cannot stand. What makes you say so?"
+
+"I don't know," said Dolly. "I have a feeling that the people who built
+that were more in earnest than the people who built this."
+
+"More in earnest? I beg your pardon!" said Lawrence. "What can you
+mean? I should say people were in earnest enough here, to judge by the
+riches of the place. Just see the adornment everywhere, and the
+splendour."
+
+"Yes," said Dolly, "I see. It is partly that. Though there was
+adornment, and riches too, at the other place. But the style of it is
+different. Those grave old towers at Limburg seemed striving up into
+the sky. I don't see any striving here; in the building, I mean."
+
+"Why, there are pinnacles enough," said Lawrence, in comical inability
+to fathom her meaning, or answer her.
+
+"Yes," said Dolly; "and domes; but the pinnacles do not strive after
+anything, and the cupolas seem to settle down like great extinguishers
+upon everything like striving."
+
+Lawrence laughed, and thought in his own mind that Dolly was a little
+American, wanting culture, and knowing nothing about architecture.
+
+"What is that great long building?" Mrs. Copley now inquired.
+
+"That, mother?--that is the palace of the Doges. Where is the Bridge of
+Sighs?"
+
+They went round to look at it from the Ponte della Paglia. Nearer
+investigation had to be deferred, or, Dolly saw, it would be too
+literally a bridge of sighs to them that morning. They turned their
+backs on the splendours, ecclesiastical and secular, of the Place of
+St. Mark, and proceeded to the store of second-hand curiosities St.
+Leger had promised Mrs. Copley, the visit to which could no longer be
+deferred. Dolly was in a dream of delight all the way. Sunlight on the
+old palaces, on the bridges over the canals, on the wonderful carvings
+of marbles, on the strange water-ways; sunlight and colour; ay, and
+shadow and colour too, for the sun could not get in everywhere. Between
+the beauty and picturesqueness, and the wealth of old historic legend
+and story clustering about it everywhere, Dolly's dream was entrancing.
+
+"I do not know half enough about Venice," she remarked by the way.
+"Rupert, we must read up. As soon as I can get the books," she added
+with a laugh.
+
+However, Dolly was susceptible to more than one sort of pleasure; and
+when the party had reached the Jew's shop, she was perhaps as much
+pleased though not so much engrossed as her mother. For Mrs. Copley,
+figuratively speaking, was taken off her feet. This was another thing
+from the Green vaults and the treasure chamber of Limburg; here the
+wonders and glories were not unattainable, if one had the means to
+reach them, that is; and not admiration only, but longing, filled Mrs.
+Copley's mind.
+
+"I must have that cabinet," she said. "I suppose we can do nothing till
+your father comes, Dolly. Do write and tell him to bring plenty of
+money along, for I shall want some. Such a chance one does not have
+often in one's life. And that cup! Dolly, I _must_ have that cup; it's
+beyond everything I ever did see!"
+
+"Mother, look at this ivory carving."
+
+"That's out of my line," said Mrs. Copley with a slight glance. "I
+should call that good for nothing, now. What's the use of it? But, O
+Dolly, see this sideboard!"
+
+"You don't want _that_, mother."
+
+"Why don't I? The price is not so very much."
+
+"Think of the expense of getting it home."
+
+"There is no such great difficulty in that. You must write your father,
+Dolly, to send if he does not come, at once. I should not like to leave
+these things long. Somebody else might see them."
+
+"Hundreds have seen them already, Mrs. Copley," said Lawrence. "There's
+time enough."
+
+"I'd rather not trust to that."
+
+"What things do you want, dear mother, seriously? Anything?"
+
+Dolly's voice carried a soft insinuation that her mother's wanting
+anything there was a delusion; Mrs. Copley flamed out.
+
+"Do you think I am coming into such a place as this, Dolly, and going
+to let the chance slip? I _must_ have several of these things. I'll
+tell you. This cup--that isn't much. Now that delicious old china
+vase--I do not know what china it is, but I'll find out; there is
+nothing like it, I don't believe, in all Boston. I have chosen that
+sideboard; _that_ is quite reasonable. You would pay quite as much in
+Boston, or in London, for a common handsome bit of cabinet-maker's
+work; while this is--just look at it, Dolly; see these drawers, see
+these compartments--that's for wine and cordials, you know"----
+
+"We don't want wine and cordials," said Dolly.
+
+"See the convenience and the curiousness of these arrangements; and
+look at the inlaying, child! It's the loveliest thing I ever saw in my
+life. Oh, I must have that! And it would be a sin to leave this screen,
+Dolly. Where ever do you suppose that came from?"
+
+"Eastern work," said Lawrence.
+
+"What eastern work?"
+
+"Impossible for me to say. Might have belonged to the Great Mogul, by
+the looks of it. Do you admire _that_, Mrs. Copley?"
+
+"How should it come here?"
+
+"Here? the very place!" said Lawrence. "What was there rare or costly
+in the world, that did not find its way to Venice and into the palaces
+of the old nobles?"
+
+"But how came it _here?_"
+
+"Into this curiosity shop? The old nobles went to pieces, and their
+precious things went to auction; and good Master Judas or Master Levi
+bought them."
+
+"And these things were in the palaces of the old nobles?"
+
+"Many of them. Perhaps all of them. I should say, a large proportion."
+
+"That makes them worth just so much the more."
+
+"You need not tell Master Levi that. And you have admired so much this
+morning, Mrs. Copley, if you will take my advice, it will be most
+discreet to come away without making any offer. Do not let him think
+you have any purpose of buying. I am afraid he will put on a fearful
+price, if you do."
+
+Whether Lawrence meant this counsel seriously, or whether it was a
+feint to get Mrs. Copley safely out of the shop, Dolly was uncertain;
+she was grateful to Lawrence all the same. No doubt he had seen that
+she was anxious. He had been in fact amused at the elder lady not more
+than interested for the younger one; Dolly's delicate attempts to draw
+off her mother from thoughts of buying had been so pretty,
+affectionate, and respectful in manner, sympathising, and yet steady in
+self-denial. Mrs. Copley was hard to bring off. She looked at Lawrence,
+doubtful and antagonistic, but his suggestion had been too entirely in
+her own line not to be appreciated. Mrs. Copley looked and longed, and
+held her tongue; except from exclamations. They got out of the shop at
+last, and Dolly made a private resolve not to be caught there again if
+she could help it.
+
+In the afternoon she devoted herself to painting Lawrence's picture.
+Her first purpose had been to take a profile or side view of him; but
+St. Leger declared, if the likeness was for his mother she would never
+be satisfied if the eyes did not look straight into her eyes; so Dolly
+had to give that point up; and accordingly, while she studied him, he
+had full and equal opportunity to study her. It was a doubtful
+satisfaction. He could rarely meet Dolly's eyes, while yet he saw how
+coolly they perused him, how calmly they studied him as an abstract
+thing. He wanted to see a little shyness, a little consciousness, a
+little wavering, in those clear, wise orbs; but no! Dolly sat at her
+work and did it as unconcernedly as if she were five years old, to all
+appearance; with as quiet, calm poise of manner and simplicity of
+dignity as if she had been fifty. But how pretty she was! Those eyes of
+hers were such an uncommon mingling of childhood and womanhood, and so
+lovely in cut and colour and light; and the mouth was the most mobile
+thing ever known under that name, and charming in every mood of rest or
+movement. The whole delicate face, the luxuriant brown hair, the little
+hands, the supple, graceful figure, Lawrence studied over and over
+again; till he felt it was not good for him.
+
+"Painting a person must make you well acquainted with him," he began
+after a long silence, during which Dolly had been very busy.
+
+"Outside knowledge," said Dolly.
+
+"Does not the outside always tell something of what is within?"
+
+"Something," Dolly allowed in the same tone.
+
+"What do you see in me?"
+
+"Mrs. St. Leger will know, when she gets this."
+
+"What you see _in_ me?"
+
+"Well, no--perhaps not."
+
+"Couldn't you indulge me and tell me?"
+
+"Why should I?"
+
+"Out of kindness."
+
+"I do not know whether it would be a kindness," said Dolly slowly.
+
+"You see, Dolly, a fellow can't stand everything for ever! I want to
+know what you think of me, and what my chances are. Come! I've been
+pretty patient, it strikes me. Speak out a bit."
+
+Mrs. Copley was lying down to rest, and Rupert had left the room. The
+pair were alone.
+
+"What do you want me to say, Mr. St. Leger?"
+
+"Tell me what you see in me."
+
+"What would be the good of that? I see an Englishman, to begin with."
+
+"You _see_ that in me?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"I am glad, but I didn't know it. Is that an advantage in your eyes?"
+
+"Am I an Englishwoman?"
+
+"Not a bit of it," said Lawrence, "nor like it. I never saw an English
+girl the least like you. But you might grow into it, Dolly, don't you
+think?"
+
+She lifted her face for an instant and gave him a flashing glance of
+fun.
+
+"Won't you try, Dolly?"
+
+"I think I would just as lieve be an American."
+
+"Why? America is too far off."
+
+"Very good when you get there," said Dolly contentedly.
+
+"But not better than we have on our side?"
+
+"Well, you have not all the advantages on your side," said Dolly, much
+occupied with her drawing.
+
+"Go on, and tell me _what_ we have not."
+
+"I doubt the wisdom."
+
+"I beg the favour."
+
+"It would not please you. In the first place, you would not believe me.
+In the second place, you would reckon an advantage what I reckon a
+disadvantage."
+
+"What _do_ you mean?" said Lawrence, very curious and at the same time
+uneasy. Dolly tried to get off, but he held her to the point. At last
+Dolly spoke out.
+
+"Mr. St. Leger, women have a better time in my country."
+
+"A better time? Impossible. There are no homes in the world where wives
+and daughters are better cared for or better loved. None in the world!"
+
+"Ah," said Dolly, "they are too well cared for."
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"Too little free."
+
+"Free?" said Lawrence. "Is _that_ what you want?"
+
+"And not quite respected enough."
+
+"Dolly, you bewilder me. What ever did you see or hear to make you
+think our women are not respected?"
+
+"I dare say it is a woman's view," said Dolly lightly. But Lawrence
+eagerly begged her to explain or give an instance of what she meant.
+
+"I have not seen much, you know," said Dolly, painting away. "But I
+heard a gentleman once, at his own dinner-table, and when there was
+company present--I was not the only visitor--I heard him tell his wife
+that the _soup was nasty_."
+
+And Dolly glanced up to see how Lawrence took it. She judiciously did
+not tell him that the house was his own father's, and the gentleman in
+question Mr. St. Leger himself. Lawrence was silent at first. I presume
+the thing was not so utterly unfamiliar as that he should be much
+shocked; while he did perceive that here was some difference of the
+point of view between Dolly's standpoint and his own, and was not ready
+to answer. Dolly glanced up at him significantly: still Lawrence did
+not find words.
+
+"That didn't mean anything!" at last he said. Dolly glanced at him
+again.
+
+"I suppose the soup _wasn't_ good. Why not say so?"
+
+"No reason why he should not say so, at a proper time and place."
+
+"It didn't mean any harm, Dolly."
+
+"I suppose not."
+
+"Then what's the matter?"
+
+"It is not the way _we_ do," said Dolly. "In America, I mean. Not when
+we are polite."
+
+"Do you think husband and wife ought to be polite to each other--in
+that way?"
+
+"In what way?"
+
+"That they should not call things by their right names?"
+
+Here Dolly lifted her sweet head and laughed; a merry, ringing,
+musical, very much amused laugh.
+
+"Ah, you see you are an Englishman," she said. "That is the way you
+will speak to your wife."
+
+"I will never speak to _you_, Dolly, in any way you don't like."
+
+"No" said Dolly gravely, and returning to her work.
+
+"Aren't you ever going to give me a little bit of encouragement?" said
+he. "I have been waiting as patiently as I could. May I tell my mother
+who did the picture, when I send it?"
+
+"Say it was done by a deserving young artist, in needy circumstances;
+but no names."
+
+"But that's not true, Dolly. Your father is as well off as ever he was;
+his embarrassments are only temporary. He is not in needy
+circumstances."
+
+"I said nothing about my father. Here, Mr. St. Leger--come and look at
+it."
+
+The finished likeness was done with great truth and grace. Dolly's
+talent was an extraordinary one, and had not been uncultivated. She had
+done her best in the present instance, and the result was a really
+delicious piece of work. Lawrence saw himself given to great advantage;
+truly, delicately, characteristically. He was delighted.
+
+"I will send it right off," he said. "Mamma has nothing of me half so
+good."
+
+"Ask her what she thinks it is worth."
+
+"And I want you to paint a duplicate of this, for me; for myself."
+
+"A duplicate!" cried Dolly. "I couldn't."
+
+"Another likeness of me then, in another view. Set your own price."
+
+"But I shall never make my fortune painting you," said Dolly. "You must
+get me some other customers; that is the bargain."
+
+"What notion is this, Dolly? It is nonsense between me and you. Why not
+let things be settled? Let us come to an understanding, and give up
+this ridiculous idea of painting for money;--if you are in earnest."
+
+"I am always in earnest. And we are upon an excellent understanding,
+Mr. St. Leger. And I want money. The thing is as harmonious as
+possible."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+MR. COPLEY.
+
+Lawrence could get no more satisfaction from Dolly. She left him, and
+went and stood at the window of her mother's room, looking out. The
+sunset landscape was glorious. Bay and boats, shipping, palaces, canals
+and bridges, all coloured in such wonderful colours, brilliant in such
+marvellous lights and shades, as northern lands do not know, though
+they have their own. Yet she looked at it sadly. It was Venice; but
+when would her father come? All her future seemed doubtful and cloudy;
+and the sunshine which is merely external does not in some moods cast
+even a reflection of brightness upon one's inner world. If her father
+would come, and Lawrence would go--if her father would come and be his
+old self--but what large "ifs" these were. Dolly's eyes grew misty.
+Then her mother woke up.
+
+"What are you looking at, Dolly?"
+
+"The wonderful sunset, mother. Oh, it is so beautiful! Do come here and
+see the colours on the sails of the boats."
+
+"When do you think your father will be here?"
+
+"Oh, soon, I hope. He ought to be here soon."
+
+"Did you tell him I would want money to buy things? I must not lose
+that sideboard."
+
+"There was no need to write about that. He can always get money, if he
+chooses, as well here as in London. If he has it, that is; but you
+know, mother"----
+
+"I know," Mrs. Copley interrupted, "that is all nonsense. He _has_ it.
+He always did have it. He has been spending it in other ways lately;
+that's what it is. Getting his own pleasure. Now it is my turn."
+
+"You shall have it, dear mother, if I can manage it. You are nicely
+to-day, aren't you? Venice agrees with you. I'm so glad!"
+
+"I think everything would go right, Dolly, if you would just tell Mr.
+St. Leger that you will have him. I don't like such humming and hawing
+about anything. He really has waited long enough. If you would tell him
+that, now, or tell _me_, then he would lend me the money I want to get
+those things. I am afraid of losing them. Dolly, when you know you are
+going to say yes, why not say it? I believe I should get well then,
+right off. _You_ would be safe too, any way."
+
+Dolly sighed imperceptibly, and made no answer.
+
+"You don't half appreciate Mr. St. Leger. He's just a splendid young
+man. I don't believe there's such another match for you in all England.
+You should have seen how keen Mrs. Thayer was to know all about him.
+Wouldn't she like him for her daughter, though! and she is handsome
+enough, according to some taste. I wish, Dolly, you'd have everything
+fixed and square before we meet the Thayers again; or you cannot tell
+what may happen. He may slip through your fingers yet."
+
+Dolly made as little answer as possible. And further, she contrived for
+a few days to keep her mother from the curiosity shops. It could be
+done only by staying persistently within doors; and Dolly shut herself
+up to her painting, and made excuses. But she found this was telling
+unfavourably on her mother's spirits, and so on her nerves and health;
+and she began to go out again, though chafing at her dependence on
+Lawrence, and longing for her father exceedingly.
+
+He came at last; and Dolly to her great relief thought he looked well;
+though certainly not glad to be in Venice.
+
+"How's your mother?" he asked her when they were alone.
+
+"I think she will be well now, father; now that you have come. And I
+have so wanted you!"
+
+"I have no doubt she could have got along just as well without me till
+she went to Sorrento, if she had only thought so."
+
+"I don't think she could. And _I_ could not, father. I do not like to
+be left so much to Mr. St. Leger's care."
+
+"He likes it. How has he behaved?"
+
+"He has behaved very well."
+
+"Then what's the matter?"
+
+"I don't want him to think he has a right to take care of us."
+
+"He has the right, if I give it to him. And you know you mean to give
+him the right, Dolly, in permanence. What's the use of fighting shy
+about it? Oh, girls, girls! You must have your way, I suppose. Well,
+now I'm here to look after you."
+
+And the business of sight-seeing was carried on from that time with
+unabating activity. They went everywhere, and still Mr. Copley found
+new things for them to see. Mrs. Copley took him into the curiosity
+shops, but as surely he took her out of them, with not much done in the
+way of purchases. Dolly enjoyed everything during the first week or
+two. She would have enjoyed it hugely, only that the lurking care about
+her father was always present to her mind. She was not at rest. Mr.
+Copley seemed well and cheery; active and hearty as usual; yet Dolly
+detected something hollow in the cheer and something forced in the
+activity. She thought him restless and uneasy, in spite of all the
+gaiety.
+
+One day after an excursion of some length the party had turned into a
+restaurant to refresh themselves. Chocolate and coffee had been
+brought; and then Mr. Copley exclaimed, "Hang it! this won't do. Have
+you drunk nothing but slops all this while, Lawrence?" And he ordered
+the waiter to bring a flask of Greek wine. Dolly's heart leaped to her
+mouth.
+
+"Oh no, father!" she said pleadingly, laying her hand on his.
+
+"Oh no, what, my child?"
+
+"No wine, please, father!" There was more intensity in Dolly's accents
+than perhaps anybody knew but Mr. Copley; he had the key; and the low
+quaver in Dolly's voice did not escape him. He answered without letting
+himself meet her eyes.
+
+"Why not? Hasn't Lawrence given you any _vino dolce_ since you have
+been in foreign parts? One can get good wine in Venice; and pure."
+
+"If one knows where to go for it," added St. Leger. "So I am told."
+
+"You have not found out by experience yet? We will explore together."
+
+"Not for wine, father?" murmured Dolly.
+
+"Yes, for wine. Wine is one of the good things. What do you think
+grapes grow for, eh? Certainly, wine is a good thing, if it is properly
+used. Eh, Lawrence?"
+
+"I have always thought so, sir."
+
+"Cheer your mother up now, Dolly. I believe it would do her lots of
+good. Here it is. We'll try."
+
+Dolly flushed with pain and anxiety. Yet here, how could she speak
+plainly? Her father was opening the bottle, and the waiter was setting
+the glasses.
+
+"We have it on good authority, Miss Dolly," Lawrence said, looking at
+her, and not sure how far he might venture, "that wine 'maketh glad the
+heart of man.'"
+
+"And on the same authority we have it that 'wine is a mocker.'"
+
+"What will you do with contradictory authority?"
+
+"They are not contradictory, those two words," said Dolly. "It is
+deceitful; it gets hold of a man, and then he cannot get loose from it.
+You _know_, Mr. St. Leger, what work it does."
+
+"Not _good_ wine," said her father, tossing off his glass. "That's
+fair; nothing extra. I think we can find better. Letitia, try it; I
+have a notion it will do you good;--ought to have been tried before."
+
+And he filled his wife's glass, and then Dolly's, and then Rupert's.
+Dolly felt as nearly desperate as ever in her life. Her father had the
+air of a man who has broken through a slight barrier between him and
+comfort. Mrs. Copley sipped the wine. Lawrence looked observingly from
+one face to another. Then Dolly stretched out her hand and laid it upon
+Rupert's glass.
+
+"Please stand by me, Rupert!" she begged.
+
+"I will!" said the young man, smiling. "What do you want me to do?"
+
+"Do as I do."
+
+"I will."
+
+Dolly lifted her glass and poured the contents of it into the nearly
+emptied chocolate jug. Rupert immediately followed her example.
+
+"What's that for?" said her father, frowning.
+
+"It's waste," added her mother. "I call that waste."
+
+"Don't make yourself ridiculous, Dolly!" Mr. Copley went on. "My child,
+the world has drunk wine ever since before you were born, and it will
+go on drinking it after you are dead. What is the use of trying to
+change what cannot be changed? What can _you_ do?"
+
+"Father, I will not help a bad cause."
+
+"How is it a bad cause, Miss Dolly?" said Lawrence now. "It is a
+certain pleasure,--but what harm?"
+
+"Do you ask me that?" said she, with a look of her clear, womanly eyes,
+which it was not very pleasant to meet.
+
+"Well, of course, if people misuse the thing,"---- he began.
+
+"Do they often misuse it, Mr. St. Leger?"
+
+"Well, yes; perhaps they do."
+
+"Go on. What are the consequences, when they misuse it?"
+
+"When people drink too much bad brandy of course--but wine like _this_
+never hurt anybody."
+
+Dolly thought, it had hurt _her_ that day; but she could not trust her
+voice to say it. Her lips trembled, her beautiful eyes filled, she was
+obliged to wait. And how, there before her father whom the fruit of the
+vine had certainly hurt grievously, and before Mr. St. Leger who knew
+as much and had seen it, could she put the thing in words? Her father
+had chosen his time cruelly. And where was his promise? Dolly fought
+and swallowed and struggled with herself; and tried to regain command
+of voice.
+
+"It's a narrow view, ray dear," said Mr. Copley, filling his glass
+again, to Dolly's infinite horror; "a narrow view. Well-bred people do
+not hold it. It is always a mistake to set yourself against the world.
+The world is generally right."
+
+"O father, do you think so?"
+
+"Not a doubt of it," said Mr. Copley, sipping the wine and looking from
+one to another of the faces in the little group. "Dolly is a foolish
+girl, Rupert; do not let her persuade you."
+
+"It certainly is not the wine that is to be condemned," said Lawrence,
+"but the immoderate use of it. That's all."
+
+"What do you call immoderate use of it?" Rupert asked now, putting the
+question in Dolly's interest.
+
+"More than your head can bear," said Lawrence. "Keep within that limit,
+and you're all right."
+
+"Suppose your neighbour cannot bear what you can?" said Dolly, looking
+at him. "And suppose your example tempts him?"
+
+"It's his business to know what he can take," said Lawrence. "It isn't
+mine."
+
+"But suppose he is drawn on by your example, and drinks more than he
+can bear? What follows, Mr. St. Leger?"
+
+Dolly's voice had a pathetic clang which touched Rupert, and I think
+embarrassed Lawrence.
+
+"If he is so unwise, of course he suffers for it. But as I said, that
+is his business."
+
+"And not yours?"
+
+"Of course not!" Mr. Copley broke in. "Dolly, you do not understand the
+world. How can I tell St. Leger how much he is to drink? or he tell me
+how much I must? Don't be absurd, child! You grow a little absurd,
+living alone."
+
+"Father, I think the world might be better than it is. And one person
+helps on another for good or for evil. And St. Paul was not of your
+opinion."
+
+"St. Paul? What did he say about it? That one must not drink wine? Not
+at all. He told Timothy, or somebody, to take it, for his stomach's
+sake."
+
+"But he said,--that if meat made his brother to offend, he would eat no
+meat while the world stood, lest he made his brother to offend. And
+meat is certainly a good thing."
+
+"Well, there are just two things about it," said Mr. Copley; "meat is
+not wine, and I am not St. Paul. A little more, Lawrence. If it is not
+a man's duty to look after his neighbour's potations, neither is it a
+woman's. Dolly is young; she will learn better."
+
+If she did not, Lawrence thought, she would be an inconvenient helpmeet
+for him. He was very much in love; but certainly he would not wish his
+wife to take up a crusade against society. Perhaps Dolly _would_ learn
+better; he hoped so. Yet the little girl had some reason, too; for her
+father gave her trouble, Lawrence knew. "I'm sorry," he thought,
+"deuced sorry! but really I can't be expected to take Mr. Copley, wine
+and all, on my shoulders. Really it is not my look-out."
+
+Dolly went home very sober and careful. It is true, not much wine had
+been drunk that day. Yet she knew a line had been passed, the passing
+of which was significant of future licence, and introductory to it. And
+that it had been done in her presence was to prove to her that her
+influence could avail nothing. It was bravado. What lay before her now?
+
+"Rupert," she said suddenly, as they were walking together, "let us
+make a solemn pledge, you and I, each to the other, that we will never
+drink wine nor anything of the sort; unless we must, for sickness, you
+know."
+
+"What would be the good of that?" said the young man, laughing.
+
+"I don't know," said Dolly, from whose eyes, on the contrary, hot tears
+began to drop. "Perhaps I shall save you, and you may save me; how can
+we tell?"
+
+"But we could keep from it just the same, without pledging ourselves?"
+said Rupert, soberly enough now.
+
+"Could; but we might be tempted. If we do this, maybe we can help other
+people, as well as each other."
+
+The tears were coming so thick from Dolly's eyes that Rupert's heart
+was sore for her. She was brushing them away, right and left, but he
+saw them glitter and fall; and he thought the man who could, for the
+sake of a glass of wine, cause such tears to be shed, was--I won't say
+what he thought he was. He was mad against Mr. Copley and St. Leger
+too. He promised whatever Dolly wanted.
+
+And when they were at home, and an opportunity was found, the agreement
+abovementioned was written out, and Rupert made two copies, and one of
+them he kept and one Dolly kept; both signed with both their names.
+
+So Rupert was safe. From that day, however, things went less well with
+Mr. Copley. He began by small degrees to withdraw himself from the
+constant attendance upon his wife and daughter which he had hitherto
+practised, leaving them again to Lawrence's care. By little and little
+this came about. Mr. Copley excused himself in the morning, and was
+with them in the evening; then after a while he was missing in the
+evening. Dolly tried to hold him fast, by getting him to sit for his
+picture; and the very observation under which she held him so, showed
+her that he was suffering from evil influences. His eyes had lost
+something of their frank, manly sparkle; avoided hers; looked dull and
+unsteady. The lines of his whole face inexplicably were changed; an
+expression of feebleness and something like humiliation taking place of
+the alert, bold, self-sufficient readiness of look and tone which had
+been natural to him. Dolly read it all, with a heart torn in two, and
+painted it as she read it; making a capital picture of him. But it
+grieved Dolly sorely, while it delighted everybody else.
+
+"What is it worth, father?" she asked, concealing as well as she could
+what she felt.
+
+"Worth? it's worth anything you please. It is glorious, Dolly!"
+
+"I work for money," she said archly.
+
+"Upon my word, you could turn a pretty penny if you did. This is
+capital work," said he, turning to Lawrence. "If this had been done on
+ivory, now"----
+
+"I did a likeness of Mr. St. Leger for his mother--that was on ivory.
+She sent me ten pounds for it."
+
+"Ten pounds to _her_. To anybody else, I should say it was worth
+twenty,--well," said Mr. Copley.
+
+"So I say, sir," Lawrence answered. "I am going to pay that price for
+my copy."
+
+"Then will you pay me twenty pounds, sir?"
+
+"I?" said Mr. Copley. "Not exactly, Dolly! I am not made of money, like
+your friend Lawrence here. Wish I could, and you should have it."
+
+"Will you get me customers, then, father?"
+
+"Customers!" echoed Mr. Copley.
+
+"Yes. Because you are not made of money, you know, father; and I want a
+good deal of money."
+
+"You!" said Mr. Copley, looking at her. For, indeed, Dolly had never
+been one of those daughters who make large demands on their father's
+purse. But Dolly answered now with a calm, practical tone and manner.
+
+"Yes, I do, father; and mother has a longing for some of those Arabian
+Nights things in the curiosity shops. You know people enough here,
+father; show them your picture and get me customers."
+
+"Don't be ridiculous, Dolly," said her father. "We are not at the point
+of distress yet. And," he added in a graver tone, as Lawrence left the
+room, "you must remember, that even if I were willing to see my
+daughter working as a portrait-painter, Mr. St. Leger might have a
+serious objection to his wife doing it--or a lady who is to be his
+wife."
+
+"Mr. St. Leger may dispose of his wife when he gets her," said Dolly
+calmly. "I am not that lady."
+
+"Yes, you are."
+
+"Not if I know anything about it."
+
+"Then you don't!" said Mr. Copley. "It is proverbial that girls never
+know their own minds. Why, Dolly, it would be the making of you, child."
+
+"No, father; only of my dresses."
+
+Mr. Copley was a little provoked.
+
+"What's your objection to St. Leger? Can you give one?" he asked hotly.
+
+"Father, he doesn't suit me."
+
+"You don't like him, because you don't like him. A real woman's reason!
+Isn't he handsome?"
+
+"Very. And sleepy."
+
+"He's wide awake enough for purposes of business."
+
+"Maybe; not for purposes of pleasure. Father, beautiful paintings and
+grand buildings are nothing to him; nothing at all; and music might be
+the tinkling of tin kettles for all the meaning he finds in it. Father,
+dear, do get me some customers!"
+
+"You are a silly girl, Dolly!" said her father, breaking away, and not
+very well pleased. Neither did he bring her customers. Those were not
+the days of photographs. Dolly took to painting little bits of views in
+Venice; here a palace; there a bridge over a canal; the pillars with
+the dragon and St. Theodore, the Place of St. Mark, bits of the Riva
+with boats; she finished up these little pictures with great care and
+delicacy of execution, and then employed Rupert to dispose of them in
+the stationers' and fancy shops. He had some difficulty at first in
+finding the right market for her wares; however, he finally succeeded;
+and Dolly could sell as many pictures as she could paint. True, not for
+a great price; they did not pay so well as likenesses; but Dolly took
+what she could get, feeling very uncertain of supplies for a time that
+was coming. Mr. Copley certainly was not flush with his money now; and
+she did not flatter herself that his ways were mending.
+
+Less and less did his wife and daughter see of his company.
+
+"Rupert," said Dolly doubtfully, one day, "do you know where my father
+goes, so much of the time?"
+
+"No," said Rupert; "that's just what I don't. But I can find out, easy."
+
+Dolly did not say, Do; she did not say anything; she stood pondering
+and anxious by the window. Neither did Rupert ask further; he acted.
+
+It came by degrees to be a pretty regular thing, that Mr. Copley spent
+the evening abroad, excused himself from going anywhere with his
+family, and when they did see him wore an uncertain, purposeless,
+vagrant sort of look and air. By degrees this began to strike even
+Mrs. Copley.
+
+"I wish you would just make up your mind to marry Mr. St. Leger!" she
+said almost weepingly one day. "Then all would go right. I believe it
+would make me well, to begin with; and it would bring your father right
+back to his old self."
+
+"How, mother?" Dolly said sadly.
+
+"It would give him spirit at once. It is because he is out of spirits
+that he does so." (Mrs. Copley did not explain herself.) "I know, if he
+were once sure of seeing you Mrs. St. Leger, all would come right.
+Lawrence would help him; he _could_ help him then."
+
+"Who would help me?"
+
+"Nonsense, Dolly! Who would help you choose your dresses and wear your
+diamonds; that is all the difficulty you would have. But all's going
+wrong!" said Mrs. Copley, sinking into tears; "and you are selfish,
+like everybody else, and think only of yourself."
+
+Dolly bore this in silence. It startled her, however, greatly, to find
+her own view of things held by her much less sharp-sighted mother. She
+pondered on what was best to do. Should she sit still and quietly see
+her father lost irretrievably in the bad habits which were creeping
+upon him? But what step could she take? She asked herself this question
+evening after evening.
+
+It was late one night, and Lawrence as well as her father had been out
+ever since dinner. Mrs. Copley, weary and dispirited, had gone to bed.
+Dolly stood at the window looking out, not to see how the moonlight
+sparkled on the water and glanced on the vessels, but in a hopeless
+sort of expectancy watching for her father to come. The stream of
+passers-by had grown thin, and was growing thinner.
+
+"Rupert," Dolly spoke after a long silence, "do you know where my
+father is?"
+
+"Can't say I do. I could give a pretty fair guess, though, if you asked
+me."
+
+"Could you take me to him?"
+
+"Take you to him!" exclaimed the young man, starting.
+
+"Can you find the way? Where is it?"
+
+"I've been there often enough," said Rupert.
+
+"What place is it?"
+
+"The queerest place you ever saw. Do you recollect Mr. St. Leger
+telling us once about wine-shops in Venice? You and he were talking"----
+
+"Yes, yes, I remember. Is it one of those? Not a café?"
+
+"Not a café at all; neither a café nor a trattoria. Just a wine-shop.
+Nothing in it but wine casks, and the mugs or jugs of white and blue
+crockery that they draw the wine into; it's the most ridiculous place
+altogether I ever was in. I haven't been in it now, that's a fact."
+
+"What were you there for so often, then?"
+
+"Well," said Rupert, "I was looking after things."
+
+"Drink wine and eat nothing!" said Dolly again. "Are there many people
+there?"
+
+"Well, you can eat if you have a mind to; there are folks enough to
+sell you things; though they don't belong to the establishment. They
+come in from the street, with ever so many sorts of things, directly
+they see a customer sit down; fish and oysters, and cakes and fruit.
+But the shop sells nothing but wine. Mr. St. Leger says that is good."
+
+"Not many people there?" Dolly asked again.
+
+"No; not unless at a busy time. There won't be many there now, I guess."
+
+"What makes you think my father is there?"
+
+"I've seen him there pretty often," Rupert said in a low voice.
+
+Dolly stood some minutes silent, thinking, and struggling with herself.
+When she turned to Rupert at the end of those minutes, her air was
+quite composed and her voice was clear and calm.
+
+"Can you take me there, Rupert? Can you find the way?"
+
+"I know it as well as the way to my mouth. You see, I didn't know but
+maybe--I couldn't tell what you might take a notion to want me to do;
+so I just practised, till I had got the ins and outs of the thing. And
+there are a good many ins and outs, I can tell you. But I know them."
+
+"Then we will go," said Dolly. "I'll be ready in two minutes."
+
+It was a brilliant moonlight night, as I said. Venice, the bride of the
+Adriatic, lay as if robed in silver for her wedding. The air was soft,
+late as the time of year was; Dolly had no need of any but a light wrap
+to protect her in her midnight expedition. Rupert called a gondola, and
+presently they were gliding along, as still as ghosts, under the shadow
+of bridges, past glistening palace fronts, again in the deep shade of a
+wall of buildings. Wherever the light struck it was like molten silver;
+façades and carvings stood sharply revealed; every beauty of the weird
+city seemed heightened and spiritualised; almost glorified; while the
+silence, the outward peace, gave still more the impression of a place
+fair-like and unreal. It was truly a wonderful sail, a marvellous
+passage through an enchanted city, never to be forgotten by either of
+the two young people; who went for some distance in a silence as if a
+spell were upon them too.
+
+At Dolly's age, with all its elasticity, some aspects of trouble are
+more overwhelming than in later years. When one has not measured life,
+not learned yet the relations and proportions of things, one imagines
+the whole earth darkened by the cloud which is but hiding the sun from
+the spot where our feet stand. And before one has seen what wonders
+Time can do, the ruin wrought by an avalanche or a flood seems
+irreparable. It is inconceivable, that the bare and torn rocks should
+be clothed again, the choking piles of rubbish ever be anything but
+dismal and unsightly, the stripped fields ever be green and
+flourishing, or the torn-up trees be ever replaced. Yet Time does it
+all. Come after a while to look again, and the traces of past
+devastation are not easy to find; nature's weaving has so covered, and
+nature's embroidery has so adorned, the bald places. In human life
+there is something like this often done; though, as I said, youth wots
+not of it and does not believe in it. So Dolly this night saw her
+little life a wilderness, which had been a garden of flowers. Some
+flowers might be lifting their heads yet, but what Dolly looked at was
+the destruction. Wrought by her own father's hand! I cannot tell how
+that thought stung and crushed Dolly. What would anything else in the
+world have mattered, so she could have kept him? help could have been
+found; but to lose _him_, her father, and not by death, but by change,
+by dishonour, by loss of his identity--Dolly felt indeed that a storm
+had come upon the little garden of her life from the sweeping ruin of
+which there could be no revival. She could hardly hold her head up for
+a long distance of that midnight sail; yet she did, and noted as they
+passed the fairy glories of the scene. Just noted them, to deepen, if
+possible, the pangs at her heart. All this beauty, all this outward
+delight, mocked the inner reality; and made sharp the sense of it with
+the contrast of what might have been. As they went along, Venice became
+to her fancy a grave and monument of lost things, which floated
+together in her mind's vision. Past struggles for freedom, beaten back
+or faded out; vanished patriotism and art, with their champions;
+extinct ambitions and powers; historical glories evaporated, as it
+were, leaving only a scent upon the air; what was left at Venice but
+monuments? and like it now her own little life gone out and gone down!
+For so it seemed to Dolly. Even if she succeeded in her mission, and
+brought her father home, what safety, what security could she have? And
+if she did _not_ bring him--then all was lost indeed. It was lost
+anyhow, she thought, as far as her own life was concerned. Her father
+could not be what he had been again. "O father! my father!" was poor
+Dolly's bitter cry, "if you had taken anything else from me, and only
+left me yourself!"
+
+After a long time, when she spoke to Rupert, it was in a quiet,
+unaltered voice.
+
+"Is this the shortest way, Rupert?"
+
+"As like as not it's the longest. But, you see, it's the only way I
+know. I've always got there starting from the Place of St. Mark; and
+that way I know what I am about; but though I daresay there's a short
+cut home, I've never been it, and don't know it."
+
+Dolly added no more.
+
+"It's a bit of a walk from St. Mark's," Rupert went on. "Do you mind?"
+
+"No," said Dolly, sighing. "Rupert, I wish you were a Christian friend!
+You are a good friend, but I wish you were a Christian!"
+
+"Why just now?"
+
+"Nobody else can give one comfort. You cannot, Rupert, with all the
+will in the world; there is no comfort in anything you could tell me. I
+have only one Christian friend on this side of the Atlantic; and that
+is Mrs. Jersey; and she might as well be in America too, where Aunt Hal
+is!"
+
+Dolly was crying. It went to Rupert's heart.
+
+"What could a Christian friend say to you?" he asked at length.
+
+"Remind me of something, or of some words, that I ought to remember,"
+said Dolly, still weeping.
+
+"Of what?" said Rupert. "If you know, tell me. Remind yourself; that's
+as good as having some one else remind you. What comfort is there in
+religion for a great trouble? Is there any?"
+
+"Yes," said Dolly.
+
+"What then? Tell us, Miss Dolly. I may want it some time, as well as
+you."
+
+"I suppose everybody is pretty sure to want it, some time in his life,"
+said Dolly sadly, but trying to wipe away her tears.
+
+"Let's have the comfort then," said Rupert, "if you've got it."
+
+"Why, are _you_ in trouble, Rupert?" she said, rousing up. "What about?"
+
+"Never mind; let's have the comfort; that's the thing wanted just now.
+What would you say to me now if I wanted it pretty bad?"
+
+"The trouble is, it is so hard to believe what God says," Dolly said,
+speaking half to herself and half to her companion.
+
+"What does He say? Is it anything a fellow can take hold of and hold on
+to? I never could make out much by what I've heard folks tell; and I
+never heard much anyhow, to begin with."
+
+"One of the things that are good to me," said Dolly, bowing her face on
+her hand, "is--that Jesus knows."
+
+"Knows what?"
+
+"All about it--everything--my trouble, and your trouble, if you have
+any."
+
+"I don't see the comfort in that. If He knows, why don't He hinder? I
+suppose He _can_ hinder?"
+
+"He does hinder whatever would be real harm to His people; He has
+promised that."
+
+"Well, ain't this real harm, that is worrying you?" said Rupert. "What
+do you call harm?"
+
+"Pain and trouble are not always harm," said Dolly, "for His children
+often have them, I know; and no trouble seems sweet at the minute, but
+bitter; and the sweet fruits come afterward. Oh, it's so bitter now!"
+cried poor Dolly, unable to keep the tears back again;--"but He knows.
+He knows."
+
+"If He knows," said Rupert, wholly unable to understand this reasoning,
+"why doesn't He hinder? That's what I look at."
+
+"I don't know," said Dolly faintly.
+
+"What comforts you in that, then?" said Rupert almost impatiently.
+"That's too big a mouthful for me."
+
+"No, you're wrong," said Dolly. "He knows why. I have the comfort of
+that, and so I am sure there _is_ a why. It is not all vague chance and
+confusion, with no hand to rule anything. Don't you see what a
+difference that makes?"
+
+"Do you mean to say, that everything that happens is for the best?"
+
+"No," said Dolly. "Wrong can never be as good as right. Only, Rupert,
+God will so manage things that to His children--to His children--good
+shall come out of evil, and nothing really hurt them."
+
+"Then the promise is only for them?"
+
+"That's all. How could it be for the others?"
+
+"I don't see it," said Rupert. "Seems to my eyes as if black was black
+and white white; it's the fault of my eyes, I s'pose. It is only
+moonshine to my eyes, that makes black white."
+
+"Rupert, you do not understand. I will tell you. You know the story of
+Joseph. Well, when his brothers tried to murder him, that was what you
+call evil, wasn't it?"
+
+"Black, and no moonshine on it."
+
+"Yet it led to his being sold into Egypt."
+
+"What was the moonshine on that? He was a slave, warn't he?"
+
+"But that brought him to be governor of Egypt; he was the means of the
+plenty in the land through those years of famine; and by his power and
+influence his family was placed in the best of the land when starvation
+drove them down there."
+
+"But why must he be sold a slave to begin with?"
+
+"Good reasons. As a servant of Potiphar he learned to know all about
+the land and its produce and its cultivation, and the peasant people
+that cultivated it. If it had not been for the knowledge he gained as a
+slave, Joseph could never have known what to do as a governor."
+
+"I never thought of that," said Rupert, his tone changing.
+
+"Then when he was thrown into prison, _you_ would have said that was a
+black experience too?"
+
+"I should, and no mistake."
+
+"And there, among the great prisoners of state, he learned to know
+about the politics of the country, and heard what he never could have
+heard talked about anywhere else; and there, by interpreting their
+dreams, he recommended himself to the high officers of Pharaoh. Except
+through the prison, it is impossible to see how he, a poor foreigner,
+could ever have come to be so distinguished at the king's court; for
+the Egyptians hated and despised foreigners."
+
+"I'll be whipped if that ain't a good sermon," said Rupert drily; "and
+what's more, I can understand it, which I can't most sermons I've
+heard. But look here,--do you think God takes the same sort of look-out
+for common folks? Joseph was Joseph."
+
+"The care comes of His goodness, not out of our worthiness," said
+Dolly, the tears dripping from her eyes. "To Him, Dolly is Dolly, and
+Rupert is Rupert, just as truly. I know it, and yet I am so ungrateful!"
+
+"But tell me, then," Rupert went on, "how comes it that God, who can do
+everything, does not make people good right off? Half the trouble in
+the world comes of folks' wrong-headedness; why don't He make 'em
+reasonable?"
+
+"He tries to make them reasonable."
+
+"_Tries!_ Why don't He do it?"
+
+"You, for instance," said Dolly--"because He has given you the power of
+choice, Rupert; and you know yourself that obedience would not be
+obedience if it were not voluntary."
+
+On this theological nut Rupert ruminated, without finding anything to
+say.
+
+"You have comforted me," Dolly went on presently. "Thank you, Rupert.
+You have made me remember what I had forgotten. Just look at that
+palace front in the moonlight!"
+
+"The world's a queer place, though," said Rupert, not heeding the
+palace front.
+
+"What are you thinking of?"
+
+"This city, for one thing. I've been, reading that book you lent me.
+Hasn't there been confusion enough, though, up and down these canals,
+and in and out of those palaces! and the rest of the world is pretty
+much in the same way. Only in America it ain't quite so bad. I suppose
+because we haven't had time enough."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+THE WINE-SHOP.
+
+It was past twelve by the clock tower when the two left the gondola and
+entered the Place of St. Mark. The old church with its cupolas, the
+open Place, the pillars with St. Theodore and the dragon, the palace of
+the Doges with its open stone work, showed like a scene out of another
+world; so unearthly beautiful, so weird and so stately. There had been
+that day some festival or public occasion which had called the
+multitude together, and lingerers were still to be seen here and there,
+and the windows of cafés and trattorie were lighted, and the buzz of
+voices came from them. Dolly and Rupert crossed the square, however,
+without more than a moment's lingering, and plunged presently into what
+seemed to her a labyrinth of confused ways. Such ways! an alley in New
+York would be broad in comparison; two women in hoops would have been
+obliged to use some skill to pass each other; they threaded the old
+city in the strangest manner. Rupert went steadily and without
+hesitation, Dolly wondered how he could, through one into another, up
+and down, over bridge after bridge, clearly knowing his way; yet it was
+a nervous walk to her, for more than one reason. Sometimes the whole
+line of one of these narrow streets, if they could be called so, would
+be perfectly dark; the moonlight not getting into it, and only
+glittering on a palace cornice or a street corner in view; others,
+lying right for the moonbeams, were flooded with them from one turning
+to another. Most of the shops were closed; but the sellers of fruit had
+not shut up their windows yet, and now and then a cook-shop made a most
+peculiar picture, with its blazing fire at the back, and its dishes of
+cooked and uncooked viands temptingly displayed at the street front.
+Steadily and swiftly Rupert and Dolly passed on; saw these things
+without stopping to look at them, but yet saw them so that in all
+after-life those peculiar effects of light and shade, fireshine and
+moonlight, Italian fruits and vegetables, and fish coloured by the one
+or the other illumination, were never lost from memory. Here there
+would be a red Vulcanic glow in the interior of a shop where the
+furnace fire was flaming up about the pots and pans of cookery; and at
+the street front, at the window, the moonlight glinting white from the
+edge of a dish, or glancing from a pane of glass; and then again
+reflected from the still waters of a canal. The two saw these things,
+and never forgot; but Dolly was silent and Rupert did not know what to
+say. Yet he thought he felt her arm tremble sometimes, and would have
+given a great deal to be able to speak to the purpose. Perhaps Dolly at
+length found the need of distraction to her thoughts, for she it was
+that first said anything.
+
+"I hope mother will not wake up!"
+
+"Why?"
+
+"She would not understand my being away."
+
+"Then she does not know?"
+
+"I did not dare tell her. I had to risk it. I do not want her ever to
+know, Rupert, if it can be helped."
+
+"She'll be no wiser for me. What are you going to do now, Miss Dolly?
+We ain't far off the place."
+
+"I am going to get my father to go home with me. You needn't come in.
+Better not. You go back to the gondola and wait there for a little
+say--a quarter or half an hour; if I do not come before that, then go
+on home."
+
+"But you cannot go anywhere alone?"
+
+"Oh no; I shall have father; but I cannot tell which way he may take to
+get home. You go back to the gondola,--or no, be in front of St.
+Mark's; that would be better."
+
+"I am afraid to leave you, Miss Dolly."
+
+"You need not. One gets to places where there is nothing to fear any
+more."
+
+Rupert was not sure what she meant; her voice had a peculiar cadence
+which struck him. Then they turned another corner, and a few steps
+ahead of them saw the light from a window making a strip of
+illumination across the street, which here was unvisited by the
+moonbeams.
+
+"That is the place," said Rupert.
+
+Dolly slackened her walk, and the next minute paused before the window
+and looked in. The light was not brilliant, yet sufficient to show
+several men within, some sitting and drinking, some in attendance; and
+Dolly easily recognised one among the former number. She drew her arm
+from Rupert's.
+
+"Now go back to St. Mark's," she whispered. "I wish it. Yes, I would
+rather go in alone. Wait for me a little while in front of St. Mark's."
+
+She stood still yet half a minute, making her observations or getting
+up her resolution; then with a light, swift step passed into the shop.
+Rupert could not obey her and go at once; he felt he must see what she
+did and what her reception promised to be; he came a little nearer to
+the window and gazed anxiously in. The minutes he stood there burned
+the scene for ever into his memory.
+
+The light shone in a wide, spacious apartment, which it but gloomily
+revealed. There was nothing whatever of the outward attractions with
+which in New York or London a drinking saloon, not of a low order,
+would have been made pleasant and inviting. The wine had need to be
+good, thought Rupert, when men would come to such a place as this and
+spend time there, simply for the pleasure of drinking it. Yet several
+men were there, taking that pleasure, even so late as the hour was; and
+they were respectable men, at least if their dress could be taken in
+testimony. They sat with mugs and glasses before them; one had a plate
+of olives also, another had some other tit-bit or provocative; one
+seemed to be in converse with Mr. Copley, who was not beyond converse
+yet, though Rupert saw he had been some time drinking. His face was
+flushed a little, his eyes dull, his features overspread with that
+inane stupidity which comes from long-continued and purely sensual
+indulgence of any kind, especially under the fumes of wine. To the side
+of this man, Rupert saw Dolly go. She went in, as I said, with a light,
+quick step, looked at nobody else, made straight to her father, and
+laid a hand upon his shoulder. With that she threw back her
+head-covering a little,--it was some sort of a scarf, of white and
+brown worsted knitting, which lay around her head like a glory, in
+Rupert's eyes,--and showed her face to her father. Fair and delicate
+and sweet, bright and grave at once, for she _did_ look bright even
+there, she stood at his side like his good angel, with her little hand
+upon his shoulder. No wonder Mr. Copley started and looked frightened;
+that was the first look; and then confused. Rupert understood it all,
+though he could not hear what was said. He saw the man was embarrassed.
+
+"Dolly!" said Mr. Copley, falling back upon his first thought, as the
+easiest to speak of,--"what is the matter?"
+
+"Nothing with me, father. Will you take me home?"
+
+"Where's your mother?"
+
+"She is at home. But it is pretty late, father."
+
+"Where's Lawrence?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Where is Rupert, then?"
+
+"He is out, somewhere. Will you go home with me, father?"
+
+"How did you come here?" said Mr. Copley, sitting a little straighter
+up, and now beginning to replace or conceal confusion with displeasure.
+
+"I will tell you. I will tell you on the way. But shall we go first,
+father? I don't like to stay here."
+
+"Here? What in the name of ten thousand devils---- Who brought you
+here?"
+
+"I am alone," said Dolly. "Hadn't we better go, father? and then we can
+talk as we go."
+
+At this point a half tipsy Venetian rose, and stepping before the pair
+with a low reverence, said something to Mr. Copley, of which Dolly only
+understood the words, "La bella signorina;" they made her, however,
+draw her scarf forward over her face and brought Mr. Copley to his
+feet. He could stand, she saw, but whether he could walk very well was
+open to question.
+
+"Signer, signor"---- he began, stammering and incensed. Dolly seized
+his arm.
+
+"Shall we go, father? It is so late, and mother might want me. It is
+very late, father. Never mind anything, but come!"
+
+Mr. Copley was sufficiently himself to see the necessity; nevertheless,
+his score must be paid; and his head was in a bad condition for
+reckoning. He brought out some silver from his pocket, and stood
+somewhat helplessly looking at it and at the shopman alternately; then
+with an awkward movement of his elbow contrived to throw over a glass,
+which fell on the floor and broke. Everybody was looking now at the
+father and daughter, and words came to Dolly's ears which made her
+cheek burn. But she stood calm, self-possessed, waiting with a somewhat
+lofty air of maidenly dignity; helped her father solve the reckoning,
+paid for the glass, and at last got hold of his arm and drew him away;
+after a gentle, grave salutation to the attendant which he answered
+profoundly, and which brought everybody in the little shop to his feet
+in involuntary admiration and respect. Dolly looked at nobody, yet with
+sweet courtesy made a distant sign of acknowledgment to their homage,
+and the next minute stood outside the shop in the dark little street
+and the mild, still air. I think, even at that minute, with the
+strange, startling inappropriateness of license which thoughts give
+themselves, there flashed across her a sense of the ironical contrast
+of things without and within her; without, Venice and her historical
+past and her monumental glory; within, a trembling little heart and
+present danger and a burden of dishonour. But that was only a flash;
+the needs of the minute banished all thinking that was not connected
+with action; and the moment's business was to get her father home. She
+had no thought now for the picturesque revealings of the moonlight and
+obscurings of the shadow. Yet she was conscious of them, in that sharp
+flash of contrast.
+
+At getting upon his feet and out into the air and gloom of the little
+street, Mr. Copley's head was very contused; or else he had taken more
+wine than his daughter guessed. He was not fit to guide himself, or to
+take care of her. As he seemed utterly at a standstill, Dolly naturally
+and unconsciously set her face to go the way she had come; for one or
+two turnings at least she was sure of it. Before those one or two
+turnings were made, however, she was shocked and scared to find that
+her father's walk was wavering; he swayed a little on his feet. The
+street was empty; and if it had not been, what help could Dolly ask
+for? A pang of great terror shot through her. She took her father's
+arm, to endeavour to hold him fast; a task rather too much for her
+little hands and slight frame; and feeling that in spite of her he
+still moved unsteadily, and that she was an insufficient help, Dolly's
+anguish broke forth in a cry; natural enough in its unreasoningness--
+
+"O father, don't!--remember, I am all alone!"
+
+How much was in the tone of those last words Dolly could not know; they
+hardly reached Mr. Copley's sense, though they went through and through
+another hearer. The next minute Rupert stood before the pair, and was
+offering his arm to Mr. Copley. Not trusting his patron, in the
+circumstances, to take care of his young mistress, Rupert had disobeyed
+her orders so far as to keep the two figures in sight; he had watched
+them from one turning to another, and had seen that his help was
+needed, even before he heard Dolly's cry. Then, with a spring, he was
+there. Mr. Copley leaned now upon his arm, and Dolly fell behind,
+thankful unspeakably for the relief. She knew by this time that she
+could never have found her way; and it was plain her father could not.
+
+"Rupert," said Mr. Copley, half recognising the assistance afforded
+him, "you're a good fellow, and always in the way when you aren't
+wanted, by George!" But he leaned on his arm heavily.
+
+Dolly followed close; she could not well keep beside them; and felt in
+that hour more thoroughly lonely perhaps than at any other of her life
+before or after. Rupert was a relief; and yet so the shame was
+increased. She stepped along through moonlight and shadow, feeling that
+light was gone out of her pathway of life for ever, as far as this
+world was concerned. What was left, when her father was lost to
+her?--her father!--and not by death; _that_ would not have been to lose
+him utterly; but now his very identity was gone. Her father, whom all
+her life she had loved; manly, frank, able, active, taking the lead in
+every society where she had seen him, making other men do his bidding
+always, until the passion of gaining and the lust of drink got hold of
+him! Was it the same, that figure in front of her, leaning on
+somebody's arm and glad to lean, and going with lame, unsteady gait
+whither he was led, so like the way his mental course had been lately?
+Was that her father? The bitterness of Dolly's feeling it is impossible
+to put into words. Tears could bring no relief, and nature did not
+summon them to the impossible service. The fire at her heart would have
+burnt them up; for there was a strange passion of resistance and sense
+of wrong mixed with Dolly's bitter pain. The way was not short, and it
+seemed threefold the length it was; every step was so hard, and the
+crowd of thoughts was so disproportionately great.
+
+They were rather ruminating thoughts of grief and pain, than
+considerative of what was to be done. For the first, the thing was to
+get Mr. Copley home. Dolly did not look beyond that. She was glad to
+find herself arrived at St. Mark's again; and presently they were all
+three in the gondola. Mr. Copley leaned in a corner, laid his head
+against a cushion, and slept, or seemed to sleep. The other two were as
+silent; but I think both felt at the moment as if they would never
+sleep again. Rupert's face was in shadow; he watched Dolly's face which
+was in light. She forgot it could be watched; her eyes stared into the
+moonshine, not seeing it, or looking through it; the sweet face was so
+very grave that the watcher felt his heart ache. Not the gentle gravity
+of young maidenhood, looking into the vague light; but the anxious,
+searching gaze of older life looking into the vague darkness. Rupert
+did not dare speak to her, though he longed. What would he not have
+given for the right and the power to comfort! But he knew he had
+neither. He had sense enough not to try.
+
+It was customary for Mr. Copley, after he had been late out at night,
+to keep to his room until a late hour the next morning; so Dolly knew
+what she had to expect. It suited her very well this time, for she must
+think what she would say to her father when she next saw him. She took
+care that a cup of coffee such as he liked was sent him; and then,
+after her own slight breakfast, sat down to plan her movements. So
+Rupert found her, with her Bible in her lap, but not reading; sitting
+gazing out upon the bright waters of the lagoon. He came up to her,
+with a depth of understanding and sympathy in his plain features which
+greatly dignified them.
+
+"Does that help?" said he, glancing at the book in Dolly's lap.
+
+"_This?_" said Dolly. "What other help in the world is there?"
+
+"Friends?" suggested Rupert.
+
+"Yes, you were a great help last night," Dolly said slowly. "But there
+come times--and things--when friends cannot do anything."
+
+"And then--what does the book do?"
+
+"The book?" Dolly repeated again. "O Rupert! it tells of the Friend
+that can do everything!" Her eyes flushed with tears and she clasped
+her hands as she spoke.
+
+"What?" said Rupert; for her action was eloquent, and he was curious;
+and besides he liked to make her talk.
+
+Dolly looked at him and saw that the question was serious. She opened
+her book.
+
+"Listen. 'Let your conversation be without covetousness; and be content
+with such things as ye have; for He hath said, I will never leave thee
+nor forsake thee. So that we may boldly say, The Lord is my helper, and
+I will not fear what man shall do unto me.'"
+
+"That makes pretty close work of it. Can you get hold of that rope? and
+how much strain will it bear?"
+
+"I believe it will bear anything," said Dolly slowly and thoughtfully;
+"if one takes hold with both hands. I guess the trouble with me is,
+that I only take hold with one."
+
+"What do you do with the other hand?"
+
+"Stretch it out towards something else, I suppose. For, see here,
+Rupert;--'Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on
+Thee; because he trusteth in Thee.'--I am just ashamed of myself!" said
+Dolly, breaking down and bursting into tears.
+
+"What for?" said Rupert.
+
+"Because I do not trust so."
+
+"I should think it would be very difficult."
+
+"It ought not to be difficult to trust a friend whose truth you know.
+There! that has done me good," said the girl, sitting up and brushing
+away the tears. "Rupert, if there is anything you want to see or to do
+here in Venice, be about it; for I think we shall go off to Rome at
+once."
+
+She told the same thing to St. Leger when he came in; and having got
+rid of both the young men set herself anew to consider how she should
+speak to her father. And consideration helped nothing; she could not
+tell; she had to leave it to the moment to decide.
+
+It was late in the morning, later than the usual hour for the déjeuner
+à la fourchette, which Mr. Copley liked. He did not want anything
+to-day, his wife said; and she and Dolly and Rupert had finished their
+meal. Dolly contrived then that her mother should go out under Rupert's
+convoy, to visit the curiosity shop again, (nothing else would have
+tempted her), and to make one or two little purchases for which Dolly
+gave Rupert the means. When they were fairly off, she went to her
+father's room; he was up and dressed, she knew. She went with a very
+faint heart, not knowing in the least what she would do or say, but
+feeling that something must be said and done, both.
+
+Mr. Copley was sitting listlessly in a chair by the window; miserable
+enough, Dolly could see by the gloomy blank of his face; looking out,
+and caring for nothing that he saw. His features showed traces of the
+evening before, in red eyes and pale cheeks; and yet worse, in the
+spiritless, abased expression, which was more than Dolly could bear.
+She had come in very quietly, but when she saw this she made one spring
+to his side and sank down on the floor before him, hiding her face on
+his knee. Mr. Copley's trembling hand presently lifted her up into his
+arms, and Dolly sat on his knee and buried her face in his breast.
+Neither of them was ready to speak; neither did speak for some time. It
+was Mr. Copley who began.
+
+"Well, Dolly,--I suppose you will say to me that I have broken my word?"
+
+"O father!"--it came in a sort of despair from Dolly's heart,--"what
+shall we do?"
+
+Mr. Copley had certainly no answer ready to this question; and his next
+words were a departure.
+
+"How came you to be at that place last night?"
+
+"I was afraid you were there"----
+
+"How did you dare come poking about through all those crooked ways, and
+at that time of night?"
+
+"Father," Dolly said, without lifting her head, "that was nothing. I
+dared nothing, compared with what you dared!"
+
+"I? You are mistaken, child. I did not run the slightest risk. In fact,
+I was only doing what everybody else does. You make much of nothing, in
+your inexperience."
+
+"Father," said Dolly, with a great effort, "you promised me. And when a
+man cannot keep his promise"----
+
+She had meant to be perfectly quiet; she had begun very calmly; but at
+that word, suddenly, her calmness failed her. It was too much; and with
+a sort of wailing cry, which in its forlornness reached and wrung even
+Mr. Copley's nerves, she broke into a terrible passion of weeping.
+Terrible! young hearts ought never to know such an agony; and never,
+never should such an agony be known for the shame or even the weakness
+of a father. The hand appointed to shield, the love which ought to
+shelter,--when the blow comes from _that_ quarter, it finds the heart
+bare and defenceless indeed, and comes so much the harder in that it
+comes from so near. No other more distant can give such a stroke. And
+to the young heart, unaccustomed to sorrow, new to life, not knowing
+how many its burdens and how heavy; not knowing on the other hand the
+equalising, tempering effects of time; the first great pain comes
+crushing. The shoulders are not adjusted to the burden, and they feel
+as if they must break. Dolly's sobs were so convulsive and racking that
+her father was startled and shocked. What had he done? Alas, the man
+never knows what he has done; he cannot understand how women die,
+before their time, that death of the heart which is out of the range of
+masculine nature.
+
+"Dolly!--Dolly!" Mr. Copley cried, "what is the matter? Don't, Dolly,
+if you love me. My child, what have I done? Don't you know _everybody_
+takes a little wine? Are you wiser than all the world?"
+
+"You promised, father!" Dolly managed to say.
+
+"Perhaps I promised too much. You see, Dolly,--_don't_ cry so!--a man
+must do as the rest of the world do. It isn't possible to live a
+separate life, as you would have me. It would make me ridiculous. It
+would not do. There's no harm in a little wine, child."
+
+"Father, you promised!" Dolly repeated, clinging to him. She was not
+shrinking away; her arms of love were wrapped round his neck as
+tenderly as even in old childish days; they had power over Mr. Copley,
+power which he could not quite resist nor break away from. He returned
+their pressure, he even kissed her, feeling, I am happy to say, a
+little ashamed of himself.
+
+"You don't want me to be ridiculous, Dolly?" he repeated, not knowing
+what to say.
+
+What should she answer to that? No, she did not want him to be
+ridiculous; and as he spoke she recalled the staggering, impotent
+figure of last night, in its unmanly feebleness and senseless idiocy. A
+sense of the difficulty of her task and the vanity of her
+representations came over Dolly; it gave her new food for tears, but
+the present effect was to make her stop them. I suppose despair does
+not weep. Dolly was not despairing, either.
+
+"What shall we do, father?" she asked, ignoring all his remarks and
+suggestions.
+
+"Do, Dolly? About what?"
+
+"Don't you think we will not stay any longer in Venice?"
+
+"For all I care! Where, then?"
+
+"To Rome, father?"
+
+"I thought you were to be in Rome at Christmas?"
+
+"It is not so very long till Christmas."
+
+"Is your mother agreed?"
+
+"She will be, if you say so."
+
+"If it pleases you, Dolly--I don't care."
+
+"And, father, dear father! won't you keep your promise to me? What is
+to become of us, father?"
+
+Some bitter tears flowed again as she said this quietly; but Mr. Copley
+knew they were flowing, and he had an intuitive sense that they were
+bitter. They embarrassed him.
+
+"I'll make a bargain, Dolly," he said after a pause. "I'll do what you
+want of me--anything you want--if you'll marry St. Leger."
+
+"But, father, I have not made up my mind to like him enough for that."
+
+"You will like him well enough. If you were to marry him you would be
+devoted to him. I know you."
+
+"I think the devotion ought to come first."
+
+"Nonsense. That is romantic folly. Novels are one thing, and real life
+is another."
+
+"I daresay; but do you object to people's being a little romantic?"
+
+"When it interferes with their bread and butter, I do."
+
+"Father, if you would drink no wine, we could all of us have as much
+bread and butter as we choose."
+
+"You are always harping on that!" said Mr. Copley, frowning.
+
+"Because, our whole life depends on it, father. You cannot bear wine as
+some people can, I suppose; the habit is growing on you; mother and I
+are losing you, we do not even have but half a sight of you;
+and--father--we are wanting necessaries. But I do not think of _that_,"
+Dolly went on eagerly; "I do not care; I am willing to live on dry
+bread, and work for the means to get it; but I cannot bear to lose you,
+father! I cannot bear it!--and it will kill mother. She does not know;
+I have kept her from knowing; she knows nothing about what happened
+last night. O father, do not let her know! Would anything pay you for
+breaking her heart and mine? Is wine more to you than we are? O father,
+father! let us go home to America, and quit all these people and
+associations that make it so hard for you to be yourself. I want you to
+be your dear old self, father! Your dear self, that I love"----
+
+Dolly's voice was choked, and she sobbed. Mr. Copley was not quite
+insensible. He was silent a good while, hearing her sobs, and then he
+groaned; a groan partly of real feeling, partly, I am afraid, of desire
+to have the scene ended; the embarrassment and the difficulty disposed
+of and behind him. But he thought it had been an expression of deeper
+feeling solely.
+
+"I'll do anything you like, my dear child," he said. "Only stop crying.
+You break my heart."
+
+"Father, will you really do something if I ask you?"
+
+"Anything! Only stop crying so."
+
+"Then, father, write and sign it, that you will not ever touch wine.
+Rupert and I have taken such a pledge already."
+
+"What is the use of writing and signing? I don't see. A man can let it
+alone without that."
+
+"He can, if he wants to let it alone; but if he is very much tempted,
+then the pledge is a help."
+
+"What did you and Rupert do such a thing as that for?"
+
+"I wanted to save him."
+
+"Make _him_ take the pledge, then. Why you?"
+
+"How could I ask him to do what I would not do myself? But I've done
+it, father; now will you join us?"
+
+"Pshaw!" said Mr. Copley, displeased. "Now you have incapacitated
+yourself from appearing as others do in society. How would you refuse,
+if you were asked to drink wine with somebody at a dinner-table?"
+
+"Very easily. I should think all women would refuse," said Dolly.
+"Father, will you join us, and let us all be unfashionable and happy
+together?"
+
+"Did St. Leger pledge himself?"
+
+"I have not asked him."
+
+"Well, I will if he will."
+
+"For him, father, and not for me?" said Dolly.
+
+"Ask him," said Mr. Copley. "I'll do as he does."
+
+"Father, you might set an example to him."
+
+"I'll let him set the example for me," said Mr. Copley rising. And
+Dolly could get no further.
+
+But it was settled that they were to leave Venice. What was to be
+gained by this step Dolly did not quite know; yet it was a step, that
+was something. It was something, too, to get out of the neighbourhood
+of that wine-shop, of which Dolly thought with horror. What might await
+them in Rome she did not know; at least the bonds of habit in
+connection with a particular locality would be broken. And Venice was
+grown odious to her.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+PAST GREATNESS.
+
+They went to Rome.
+
+Dolly had little comfort from her conversation with her father. She
+turned over in her mind his offer to quit wine if St. Leger would do
+the same. St. Leger would not give any such pledge, Dolly was very
+clearly aware; except, indeed, she paid him for it with another pledge
+on her part. With such a bribe she believed he would do it, or anything
+else that might be asked of him. Smooth and quiet as the young
+gentleman was outwardly, he had a power of self-will; as was shown by
+his persistence in following her. Dolly was obliged to confess that his
+passion was true and strong. If she would have him, no doubt, at least
+she believed there was no doubt, Lawrence would agree to be
+unfashionable and drink no more wine to the day of his death for her
+sake. If he agreed to that, her father would agree to it; both of them
+would be saved from that danger. Dolly pondered. Ought she to pay the
+price? Should she sacrifice herself, and be the wife of a rich banker,
+and therewith keep her father and all of them from ruin? Very soberly
+Dolly turned the whole thing over in her mind; back and forward; and
+always she was certain on one point,--that she did not want to be
+Lawrence's wife; and to her simple, childlike perceptions another thing
+also seemed clear; that it is a bad way to escape one wrong by doing
+another. She always brought up with that. And so, she could not venture
+and did not venture to attack Lawrence on the wine question. She knew
+it would be in vain.
+
+Meanwhile, they were in Rome. Two of the gentlemen being skilled
+travellers, they had presently secured a very tolerable apartment; not
+in the best situation, indeed, but so neither was it of the most
+expensive sort; and clubbing their resources, were arranged comfortably
+enough to feel quite at home. And immediately Dolly began to use her
+advantage and see Rome. Mrs. Copley had no curiosity to see anything;
+all her wish was to sit at her window or by her fire and talk to her
+husband; and as Mr. Copley shared her lack of enterprise and something
+withheld him from seeking either gambling or drinking-shops, Dolly
+could go out with an easy mind, and give herself undividedly to the
+intense enjoyment of the place and the time. Yes, undividedly; for she
+was eighteen, and at eighteen one has a power of, for a time, throwing
+off trouble. Trouble was on her, she knew; and, nevertheless, when
+Dolly found herself in the streets of Rome, or in presence of its
+wonders of art or marvels of antiquity, she and trouble parted company.
+She forgot all but the present; or even if she did not forget, she
+disregarded. Her spirit took a momentary leap above all that ordinarily
+held it down, and revelled, and rejoiced, and expanded, and rose into a
+region of pure exquisite life. Rupert, who always accompanied her, was
+rather opening the eyes of his mind, and opening them very wide indeed,
+and as is the case with eyes newly opened, not seeing very clearly; yet
+taking great pleasure in what he did see. St. Leger, her other
+companion, had a certain delight in seeing Dolly's enjoyment; for
+himself, alas! it was too plain that art said little to him, and
+antiquity nothing.
+
+One afternoon, when they had been perhaps a week in Rome, Dolly
+declared her intention of taking Rupert to the Museo Capitolino.
+
+"You were there the day before yesterday," St. Leger remarked, rousing
+himself from a comfortable position and a magazine.
+
+"Yes, thank you; and now I am going to do for Mr. Babbage what you did
+for me; introduce him to a scene of delights. You know, one should
+always pass on a good thing that one has received."
+
+"Don't you want me?"
+
+"No, indeed! I wouldn't bore you to that extent."
+
+"But you will allow me, for my own pleasure," said Lawrence, getting up.
+
+"No, I will not. You have done your part, as far as that museum is
+concerned; and besides, I have heard that a lady must not dance too
+many dances with one gentleman. It is Mr. Babbage's turn."
+
+And with a merry little nod of her head, and smile at the irresolute
+St. Leger, Dolly went off. Rupert was generally of the party when they
+went sight-seeing, but it had happened that it was not the case when
+the visit to the Capitoline Museum had been made.
+
+"You are not going to this place for my sake?" Rupert said as Dolly
+hurried along.
+
+"For your sake, and for my sake," she answered. "I was there for about
+two minutes, and I should like two days. O Rome, Rome! I _never_ saw
+anything like Rome."
+
+"Why?" said Rupert. "It hasn't got hold of me so."
+
+"Wait, and it will. I seem to be touching the history of the world
+here, till I don't know whereabouts in the ages I am. Is this the
+nineteenth century?--Here we are."
+
+Half an hour later, the two found themselves in the Hall of the
+Emperors.
+
+"Do you know Roman history, Rupert?"
+
+"A little. Not much. Not far down, you see. I know about Romulus and
+Remus."
+
+"Then you know more than anybody else knows. That's a myth. Look here.
+Let us begin at the beginning. Do you know this personage?"
+
+"Julius Caesar? Yes. I have read about him."
+
+"Did you ever read Plutarch's Lives? They used to be my delight when I
+was a little girl. I was very fond of Julius Caesar then. I know better
+now. But I am glad to see him."
+
+"Why, wasn't he a great man?"
+
+"Very. So the world says. I have come to perceive, Rupert, that that
+don't mean much."
+
+"Why not? I thought the world was apt to be right."
+
+"In some things. No doubt this man _might_ have been a very great man;
+he had power; but what good did he do to the world? He just worked for
+himself. I tell you what the Bible says, Rupert; 'The things which are
+highly esteemed among men, are abomination in the sight of God.' Look,
+and you will see it is so."
+
+"If you go by _that_---- Who is this next man? Augustus. He was the
+first Roman emperor, wasn't he?"
+
+"And all around here are ranged his successors. What a set they were!
+and they look like it."
+
+"How do you know they are likenesses?"
+
+"Know from coins. Do you know, almost all these men, the emperors, died
+a violent death? Murdered, or else they killed themselves. That speaks,
+don't it, for the beauty and beneficence of their reigns, and the
+loveliness of their characters?"
+
+"I don't know them very well. Some of them were good men, weren't they?"
+
+"See here, Nos. 11 and 12. Here are Caligula and Claudius. Caligula was
+murdered. Then Claudius was poisoned by his wife Agrippina; there she
+is, No. 14. She was killed by her son Nero; and Nero killed himself;
+and No. 13, there is another wife of Claudius whom he killed before he
+married Agrippina; and here, No. 17, was a wife of Nero whom he killed
+by a kick. And that is the way, my dear Rupert, they went on. Don't you
+wish you had belonged to the Imperial family? There's greatness for
+you!"
+
+"But there were some really great ones, weren't there? Which are they?"
+
+"Well, let us see. Come on. Here is Trajan. He was not a brute; he was
+a philosopher and a sceptic. He was quite a distinguished man in the
+arts of war and peace. But he ordered that the profession of
+Christianity should be punished with death. He legalised all succeeding
+persecutions, by his calm enactments. Do you think he was a great man
+in the sight of God?"
+
+"Were the Christians persecuted in his reign?"
+
+"Certainly. In Asia Minor, under the good governor Pliny. Simon the son
+of Cleophas was crucified at that time."
+
+"Perhaps Trajan did not know any better."
+
+"He might have known better, though. Ignorance is no plea that will
+stand, when people have the means of knowledge. But come on. Here is
+Marcus Aurelius; here, Rupert, Nos. 37 and 38. He was what the world
+calls a very great man. He was cultivated, and wise, and strong, a
+great governor, and for a heathen a good man; and how he treated the
+Christians! East and west, and at Rome here itself, how they were
+sought out and tortured and killed! What do you think the Lord thinks
+of such a great man as that? Remember the Bible says of His people, 'He
+that toucheth you, toucheth the apple of His eye.' What do you think
+the Lord thought of Marcus Aurelius' greatness? Look here, Rupert--here
+is Decius, and here is Diocletian."
+
+"Were they persecutors too?"
+
+"Great. It is so strange to look at their faces here, in this museum,
+after so many centuries. I suppose they will stand here, maybe, till
+the end of the world. Come away--we have been so long in this gallery
+we have not left time enough for the other rooms."
+
+They went to the Hall of the Gladiator; and there Dolly studied the
+figure which gives name to the place, with a kind of rapt intensity.
+She described to her companion the meaning of the marble; but it was
+not the same thing to them both. Dolly was lost in delighted
+contemplation. Rupert looked on with a kind of incredulous scorn.
+
+"You don't care for it?" she said suddenly, catching a sight of his
+face.
+
+"What's it good for?" said Rupert. "This ain't a likeness of anybody,
+is it?"
+
+"It is a likeness of a great many people. Hundreds and hundreds died in
+such fashion as that, for the pleasure of the Roman people."
+
+"Well, would it have been any satisfaction to you to see it?"
+
+"Why, no! I hope not."
+
+"Then why do you like to see it here now?"
+
+"I don't! this is not reality, but an image."
+
+"I can't see why you should like to look at the image, when you
+couldn't bear the reality."
+
+"Why, Rupert"---- Dolly began, but her further words were cut off.
+
+"Met again!" said a soft voice. "You here! we did not know you would be
+in Rome so soon."
+
+"Dolly!" exclaimed Christina, who followed her mother. "That's
+delightful. Dolly Copley in Rome! and in the Museo Capitolino. Who is
+with you?"
+
+"We are all here," said Dolly, smiling.
+
+"Yes, yes, in Rome, of course; but you are not in the museum alone?"
+
+Dolly presented Mr. Babbage.
+
+"And how is your mother?" Mrs. Thayer went on. "Better! I am so glad. I
+thought she would be better in Italy. And what have you done with your
+handsome _cavaliero servente_--Mr. St. Leger?"
+
+"I left him at home with a magazine, in which I _think_ there was a
+story," said Dolly.
+
+"Impossible! his gallantry allowed you to come alone?"
+
+"Not his gallantry, but perhaps his sense of weakness," Dolly answered.
+
+"Of weakness, my dear? Is he a weak young man? He does not look it."
+
+"Very good muscular power, I daresay; but when we talk of power of
+will, you know 'weakness' is relative. I forbade him, and he did not
+dare to come."
+
+"You forbade him! and he obeyed? But, Christina, I do not think you
+have Mr. Shubrick in such training as that. Would he obey, if you gave
+him orders?"
+
+"Probably the relations are different," said Dolly, obliging herself to
+keep a grave face. "I am in a happy independence of Mr. St. Leger which
+allows me to command him."
+
+"Independence!" said Mrs. Thayer, with an air half curious, half
+confounded, which was a severe trial to Dolly's risible muscles. "I
+know young ladies are very independent in these days--I don't know
+whether it is a change for the better or not--but I do not think
+Christina would boast of her independence of _her_ knight-errant."
+
+"No," said Dolly. "The cases are different--as I said. Mr. St. Leger
+does not stand in that particular relation to me."
+
+"Doesn't he? But, my dear, I hope you haven't quarrelled?"
+
+"Not at all," said Dolly. "We do not like each other well enough to
+quarrel."
+
+"But he struck me as a most delightful young man."
+
+"I believe he generally makes that impression."
+
+"I used to know his father," said Mrs. Thayer. "He was a sad flirt. I
+know, you see, my dear, because I was one myself. I am glad Christina
+does not take after me. But I used to think it was great fun. Is Mr.
+St. Leger anything of a flirt?"
+
+"I have had no opportunity of knowing, ma'am," said Dolly gravely.
+
+"Well, you will bring him to see us? You are all coming to make us a
+visit at our villa, at Sorrento; and Mr. Shubrick is coming; Christina
+wants to show him to you; you know a girl is always proud of her
+conquests; and then we will go everywhere and make you see everything.
+You have just no notion how delightful it is at Sorrento in the spring
+and summer. It's Paradise!"
+
+"But you are coming first to spend Christmas with me, Dolly," said her
+friend, who until now had hardly been able to get in a word. "I have
+five thousand things to talk to you about. My sailor friend has
+promised to be here too, if he can, and his ship is in the
+Mediterranean somewhere, so I guess he can; and I want you to see him.
+Come and spend Christmas Eve with me--do! and then we shall have a
+chance to talk before he comes. Of course there would be no chance
+after," she added with a confident smile.
+
+Dolly was not much in a mood for visiting, and scantly inclined to mix
+in the joyous circle which must be breathing so different an atmosphere
+from her own. She doubted besides whether she could leave her watch and
+ward for so long a time as a night and a day. Yet it was pleasant to
+see Christina, and the opportunity to talk over old times was tempting;
+and her friend's instances were very urgent. Dolly at last gave a
+conditional assent; and they parted; Dolly and Rupert taking the way
+home.
+
+"Is that lady a friend of yours?" Rupert enquired.
+
+"The daughter; not the mother."
+
+"The old lady, I meant. She has a mind to know all about us."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"She asked me about five hundred and fifty questions, after she quitted
+you."
+
+"What did you tell her?"
+
+"I told her what she knew before," said Rupert, chuckling. "Her stock
+of knowledge hasn't grown _very_ much, I guess, by all she got out of
+me. But she tried."
+
+Dolly was silent. After a short pause, Rupert spoke again in quite
+another tone.
+
+"Miss Dolly, you've put me in a sort of a puzzle. You said a little
+while ago, or you spoke as if you thought, that all those grand old
+Roman emperors were not after all great men. Then, if _they_ were not
+great, what's a fellow to try for? If a common fellow does his best, he
+will not get to the hundredth or the thousandth part of what those men
+did. Yet you say they were not great. What's the use of my trying, for
+instance, to do anything, or be anything?"
+
+"What did they do, Rupert?"
+
+"Well, you seem to say, nothing! But don't you come to Rome to admire
+what they did?"
+
+"Some of the things they did, or made. But stand still here, Rupert,
+and look. Do you see the Rome of the Caesars? You see an arch here and
+a theatre there; but the city of those days is buried. It is under our
+feet. The great works of art here, those that were done in their day,
+were not done by them. Do you think it is any good to one of those old
+emperors in the other world--take the best of them--is it any good to
+him now that he had some of these splendid buildings erected, or
+marbles carved? Or that his armies conquered the world, and his
+government held order wherever his arms went? If he is happy in the
+presence of God, is it anything to him, now, that we look back and
+admire his work?--and if he is unhappy, banished that Presence, is it
+anything to him then?"
+
+"Well, what _is_ greatness then?" said Rupert. "What is worth a man's
+trying for, if these greatest things are worth nothing?"
+
+"I do not think anything is really great or worth while," said Dolly,
+"except those things that God likes."
+
+"You come back to religion," said Rupert. "I did not mean religion.
+What are those things?"
+
+"I do not think anything is worth trying for, Rupert, except the things
+that will last."
+
+"What things will last?" said he half impatiently.
+
+"Look here," said Dolly. "Step a little this way. Do you see the
+Colosseum over yonder? Who do you think will remember, and do remember,
+that with most pleasure; Vespasian and Titus who built it, or the
+Christians who gave themselves to the lions there for Christ's sake?"
+
+"Yes," said Rupert, "of course; but _that_ isn't the thing. There are
+no lions here now."
+
+"There are lions of another sort," said Dolly, standing still and with
+her eyes fixed upon the wonderful old pile in the distance. "There is
+always work to be done for God, Rupert, and dangers or difficulties to
+be faced; and to the people who face _any_ lions for His sake, there is
+a promise of praise and honour and blessing that will last for ever."
+
+"Then you would make all a man's work to be work for God?" said Rupert,
+not satisfied with this view of the question. "What is to become of all
+the rest of the things that are to be done in the world?"
+
+"There ought not to be anything else done in the world," said Dolly,
+laughing, as she turned and began to walk on again. "It ought all to be
+done for Him. Merchants ought to make money for His service; and
+lawyers ought to strive to bring God's order between man and man, and
+justice to every one, and that never wrong should be done or oppression
+exercised by anybody. 'Break every yoke, and let the oppressed go
+free.' And soldiers ought to fight for no other reason but to protect
+weaker people from violence and wrong. And so on of everything else.
+And, Rupert, God has promised a city, of His own preparing, for His
+people; it will be a place of delights; and I am thinking of that
+word,--'Blessed are they that do His commandments; that they may have a
+right to the tree of life, and may enter in through the gates into the
+city.' I don't believe anybody that is left outside will think much of
+what we call greatness in that day."
+
+"Why, the world wouldn't be the world, at that rate," cried Rupert.
+
+"Think it wouldn't be altered for the better?"
+
+"But a few people can't make it like that."
+
+"Suppose they make only a very little piece of it like that?--But then
+comes the end, Rupert, and the King's 'Well done!'"
+
+"Then you wouldn't have a man make as much as he can of himself," said
+Rupert after a dissatisfied pause.
+
+"Certainly I would."
+
+"What use?"
+
+"Oh, to be a better servant to his Master, the best he possibly can;
+and to do more work for Him; the most he can do."
+
+"It seems to me, Miss Dolly, if you are right, pretty much all the rest
+of the world are wrong."
+
+"Yes, Rupert; don't you remember the Bible says that the wrong way is
+the broad way, where almost all the people go?"
+
+Rupert's meditations this time held him till they got home.
+
+The days that intervened before Christmas were filled full with
+delightful business. Dolly had her anxieties, it is true; but she was
+in Rome. What could stand against the witchery of the enchantress city?
+Anxieties fell into the background; and with all the healthy, elastic
+spring of her young years Dolly gave herself to the Present and the
+Past, and rejoiced, hour by hour and step by step, in what the Present
+and the Past opened up to her. True, her father and mother hardly
+shared in her pleasure; Mr. Copley's taste was blunted, I fear, for all
+noble enjoyment; and Mrs. Copley cared mainly to be comfortable in her
+home quarters, and to go out now and then where the motley world of
+fashion and of sight-seeing did most congregate. Especially she liked
+to go to the Pincian Hill Sunday afternoon, and watch the indescribable
+concourse of people of all nationalities which is there to be seen at
+that time. But there Dolly would not go.
+
+"It is very absurd of you, Dolly!" cried her mother, greatly
+disappointed; for she had a pride in seeing the universal attention
+which was drawn to Dolly in every public place. "What harm should there
+be in looking at the beautiful view and hearing music? we are not going
+to _do_ anything."
+
+"It's the Lord's day, mother," said Dolly, looking up at her
+sorrowfully.
+
+"You went to church this morning all right," her mother said. "There is
+no church for you to go to at this time of day, that I know of; and if
+there were, I should think it very ridiculous to go again. If you want
+to think, you could think about good things, I should hope, on the
+Pincian. What is there to hinder you?"
+
+"Only everything I should see and hear, mother."
+
+"Hinder you from thinking about good things!"
+
+"Hinder me from thinking about anything," said Dolly, laughing a little.
+
+"Seriously, Miss Dolly," said Lawrence, who stood by, hat in hand,
+ready to go; the Pincian Hill Sunday evening was something he quite
+approved of;--"seriously, do you think there is anything _wrong_ in
+sitting up there for an hour or two, and seeing the beautiful sunset
+colours, and hearing the music?"
+
+"She's a little Puritan," said her father; "and the Puritans were
+always an obstinate set, Lawrence; always, and in every nation and
+people. I wonder why the two things should go together."
+
+"What two things, father?"
+
+"What you call Puritanism and obstinacy."
+
+"I suppose because those you call Puritans love the truth," said Dolly;
+"and so hold to it."
+
+"And do you not think other people, who are not Puritans, also love the
+truth, Miss Dolly?" Lawrence asked.
+
+"I don't think anybody loves the truth he disobeys," Dolly said with a
+gentle shake of her head.
+
+"There!" said her mother. "There's Dolly all over. She is right, and
+nobody else is right. I wonder what she supposes is to become of all
+the rest of the world! Everybody in Rome will be on the Pincian
+to-night except Dolly Copley. And every other mother but me will have
+her daughter with her."
+
+In answer to which Dolly kissed her, pulled the strings of her bonnet
+into a prettier bow, and looked at her with sweet, shining eyes, which
+said as plainly as possible without words that Mrs. Copley knew better.
+The party went off, nevertheless; and Lawrence, lingering till the
+others had turned their backs, held out his hand to Dolly.
+
+"Will you tell me," said he, "as a favour, what you think is the harm
+of what we are doing?"
+
+"You are just robbing the King of heaven and earth," Dolly answered
+gravely.
+
+"Robbing! Of what?"
+
+"Of time which He says is His, and of honour which He says ought to be
+His."
+
+"How?"
+
+"'The seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord thy God.'"
+
+"This is not the seventh; it is the first."
+
+"Quibbling, Mr. St. Leger. It is not the seventh from Monday, but it
+_is_ the seventh from Sunday; it is the one day set apart from the
+seven."
+
+"And what ought we to do with it? Sabbath means _rest_, does it not?
+What are we going to do but rest up there on the Pincian? only rest
+most delightfully. You will not rest so here."
+
+"I suppose your bodies will rest," said Dolly. "Your minds will have
+most uncommon powers of abstraction if they do."
+
+"But you are putting yourself out of the world, Dolly."
+
+"I mean it," said she with a little nod at him. "The Lord's people are
+not of the world, Mr. St. Leger; and the world does not like their
+ways. Never did."
+
+"I wonder if all Puritans are as quaint as you," said he, kissing the
+hand he held. But then he went off to the Pincian.
+
+And there, surely, was a most wonderful, rich, and varied scene; a
+concourse of people of all characters and nationalities--except the
+small party in the world which Dolly represented; a kaleidoscope view
+of figures and costumes, classes and callings, most picturesque, most
+diversified, most changeful. There were the Thayers, amongst others;
+and as they joined company with the Copley party, of course Mrs.
+Copley's pleasure was greatly increased; for in a crowd it is always
+pleasant to know somebody. Mr. Copley knew several people. Mrs. Thayer
+had leisure to tell and ask whatever she had a mind with Mrs. Copley,
+and to improve her acquaintance with Mr. St. Leger; who on his part
+managed to get some conversation with the beautiful Christina. It was a
+distinction to be talking to such a beauty, and he felt it so; and
+Christina on her part was not insensible to the fact that the young man
+was himself very handsome, and unexceptionably well dressed, and the
+heir to many thousands; therefore a person of importance. The time on
+the Pincian Hill that evening was very pleasantly spent; and so Mrs.
+Copley told her daughter on their return.
+
+"Mrs. Thayer said she was very sorry not to see you," Mrs. Copley added.
+
+"I am much obliged to her."
+
+"You are not obliged to her at all, for she didn't mean it. That's what
+you get by staying behind."
+
+"What?" said Dolly, dimpling up.
+
+"That woman had it all her own way; talked to Mr. St. Leger, and let
+him talk to her daughter. You see, Dolly, Christina is very handsome
+when you are not by."
+
+"Mother, she is at any time. She's beautiful. You must not set me up in
+comparison with her."
+
+"Well, she's engaged," said Mrs. Copley. "I wish you were. You let
+everything hang by the eyelids, Dolly; and some fine morning what you
+look for won't be there."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+CHRISTMAS EVE.
+
+Christmas Eve came, and Rupert attended Dolly to the Piazza di Spagna,
+where her friends had apartments in a great hotel. Dolly was quite
+prepared to enjoy herself; the varied delights of the foregoing days
+had lifted her out of the quiet, patient mood of watchful endurance
+which of late had been chronic with her, and her spirits were in a flow
+and stir more fitted to her eighteen years. She was going through the
+streets of Rome! the forms of the ages rose before her mind's eye
+continually, and before her bodily eye appeared here and there tokens
+and remains which were like the crumblings of those ages; tangible
+proofs that once they had been, and that Rome was still Rome. Dolly
+drew breaths of pleasure as she and Rupert walked along.
+
+"You are going to stay all night?" said Rupert.
+
+"Yes, they want me."
+
+"And they have asked nobody but you?" said Rupert, who was not
+conventional.
+
+"They wanted nobody but me. It is not a party; it is my old
+school-friend only, who wants to show me her future husband."
+
+Rupert grunted his intelligence, and at the same time his
+mystification. "What for?" he asked. And Dolly laughed.
+
+"I don't know! It is natural, I suppose, to some people. Here we are.
+Good night."
+
+The Thayers were very well lodged indeed. Dolly found herself in really
+charming rooms, well furnished and well lighted. She was joyfully
+received, and Christina led her forthwith through saloon and
+dining-room to the sanctuary of her own chamber. A certain feeling of
+contrast began to fall upon Dolly already, Christina looked so very
+fresh and fair and well kept; the lightest veil of anxiety had never
+shadowed her bloom; the most remote cloud of embarrassment or need had
+never risen on her horizon. Careless, happy, secure, her mind knew no
+burden. It made Dolly feel the pressure of her own; and yet she was
+glad, for a little, to get into this atmosphere of peace and
+confidence, and enjoy it even by the contrast. Christina's room looked
+like a curiosity shop. It was littered with recent purchases; all sorts
+of pretty things, useful and useless.
+
+"One cannot help buying," she said, excusing herself. "I see something
+at every step that I want; and I must get it when I see it, or I may
+never see it again, you know. It is great fun, but sometimes I almost
+get tired. Here, dear, I can lay your things here. Isn't my fire nice?
+Now sit down and warm yourself. It's too delightful to have you! It is
+like a bit of home, and a bit of old times. Those old school days were
+pleasant?"
+
+"Very pleasant!" said Dolly, sitting down and looking into the queer
+but bright fire of small sticks which burned in Christina's chimney.
+"Very pleasant! I was with my dear Aunt Hal, in Philadelphia."
+
+"But these days are better, Dolly," Miss Thayer went on. "That wasn't
+much compared to this."
+
+"I don't know," said Dolly. "There was no care in those times."
+
+"Care?" exclaimed Christina, as if she did not know the meaning of the
+word. "What care have you, Dolly? I have none, except the care to make
+my money buy all I want--which it won't, so I may as well make up my
+mind to it, and I do. What have you been getting in Rome?"
+
+"Oh, more pleasure than I knew so many days could hold," said Dolly,
+laying some of the sticks of the fire straight.
+
+"Isn't it wonderful? I think there's nothing like Rome. Unless,
+perhaps, Paris."
+
+"Paris!" said Dolly. "What's at Paris?"
+
+"Ah, you don't know it, or you wouldn't ask! Everything, my dear. Rome
+has a good deal, certainly, but Paris has _everything_. Now tell
+me,--are you engaged?"
+
+"I? No. Of course not."
+
+"I don't see why it's of course. Most people are at one time or
+another; and I didn't know but your time had come."
+
+"No," said Dolly. "Neither the time nor the man. I've come to hear
+about yours."
+
+"If he's good, you'll see him; the man, I mean. He promised to be with
+us at Christmas, if he could; and he always keeps his promises."
+
+"That's a good thing," said Dolly. .
+
+"Ye-s," said Christina, "that is, of course, a good thing. One likes to
+have promises kept. But it is possible to have too much of a good
+thing."
+
+"Not of keeping promises!" said Dolly in unfeigned astonishment.
+
+"I don't know," said Christina. "Sandie is so fixed in everything; he
+holds to his opinions and his promises and his expectations; and he
+holds a trifle too fast."
+
+"He has a right to hold to his expectations, surely," said Dolly,
+laughing.
+
+"Not too much," said Christina. "He has no right to expect everybody to
+keep their promises as precisely as he does his! People aren't made
+alike."
+
+"No; but honour is honour."
+
+"Come, now, Dolly," said Christina laughing in her turn, "you are
+another! You are just a little bit precise, like my Sandie. You cannot
+make all the world alike, if you try; and he can't."
+
+"I am not going to try, and I think it would be a very stupid world if
+I could do it; but nobody ought to raise _expectations_ he is not
+prepared to gratify."
+
+"Like a sentence out of a book!" cried Christina. "But Sandie is the
+most unchangeable person; he will not take any views of anything but
+the views he has always taken; he is as fixed as the rock of Gibraltar,
+and almost as distinct and detached from the rest of the world."
+
+"And don't you like that?"
+
+"No; confess I do not. I'd like him to come down a little from his high
+place and mix with the rest of us mortals."
+
+"What expectations does he indulge which you are not willing to meet?"
+
+"That's the very thing!" cried Christina, in her turn stooping to
+arrange the little sticks and pile more on; "he is unreasonable."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Wants me to marry him."
+
+"Is that unreasonable?"
+
+"Yes! till things are ready for such a step, and I am ready."
+
+"What things?"
+
+"Dolly, he is only the first officer of his ship. He was distinguished
+in the last war, and he has the prospect of promotion. I don't want to
+marry him till he is a captain."
+
+"Why?" said Dolly.
+
+"Why?--Don't you understand? He would have a better position then, and
+better pay; and could give me a better time generally; and mamma thinks
+we ought to wait. And I like waiting. It's better fun, I do think, to
+be engaged than to be married. I _know_ I shouldn't have my head near
+so much if I was married to Sandie. I do just as I like now; for mamma
+and I are always of a mind."
+
+"And are not you and Mr. Shubrick of a mind?"
+
+"Not about this," said Christina, getting up from the hearth, and
+laughing.
+
+"Pray, if one may ask, how long have you and he been waiting already?"
+
+"Oh, _he_ thinks it is a great while; but what is the harm of waiting?"
+
+"Well, how long is it, Christina?"
+
+"Dolly, we were engaged very young. It was before I left school; one
+summer when I was home for the vacation. I was sixteen; that is four
+years ago, and more."
+
+"Four years!" cried Dolly.
+
+"Yes. Of course we were too young then to think of marrying. He was
+home on furlough, and I was home for the vacation; and our houses were
+near together; and so we made it up. His people were not very well off,
+but mine were; so there was nothing in the way, and nobody objected
+much; only mother said we must wait."
+
+"What are you waiting for now, Christina?"
+
+"I told you. I am in no hurry, for my part. I want Sandie to get his
+ship; and in the meanwhile it is just as nice to be as we are. We see
+each other when we can; and Italy is Italy; and I am very contented.
+Unfortunately, Sandie isn't."
+
+"How long do you propose to go on waiting?"
+
+"I don't know. Oh, I don't know! and I don't care. What is the harm of
+waiting?"
+
+"That depends on what you promise yourselves in being married."
+
+"Dolly," said Christina thoughtfully, "I don't promise myself anything
+much better than I have got now. If Sandie would only be content, I
+could go on so for ever."
+
+"And not be married?"
+
+"Besides, Dolly, I don't want to keep house in a small way. I do not!
+and if I married a lieutenant in the navy, I couldn't do anything else.
+You see, Sandie would not live upon papa's money; though papa would do
+anything for me; but Sandie won't; and on _his_ means we should live on
+a very small scale indeed."
+
+"But you would have enough?"
+
+"Enough for what? We should have enough to eat. But, Dolly, I do not
+like to have to think of economy. I have never been used to it. Look at
+my room; see the things I have got together these last few days. Look
+here--this is a ring I want you to wear for me. Isn't it delicious? It
+is as old as the best time of cameo-cutting, they say, but I do not
+remember when that was; it's rather large for a lady's ring, but it is
+an undoubted beauty. Jupiter's eagle, with the thunderbolts. Just look
+at the plumage of the bird,--and its fierce eye!"
+
+Dolly was greatly delighted. Of all the pretty things she had seen
+during the weeks past, she had bought nothing, save one or two bits for
+her mother. This gift was vastly more to Dolly than Christina could
+imagine. She had so literally everything she wanted, that no further
+acquisition could give her great pleasure. It lacked the enhancement of
+difficulty and rarity. I suppose the ring was more to Dolly than her
+whole roomful beside to Christina. It was in truth a very exquisite
+cameo. Dolly put it on her finger and looked at it in different lights,
+and admired it and enjoyed it hugely; while at the same time it gave an
+odd grace of setting-off to her simple dress. Dolly was in a plain
+black silk, with no adornment at all, until she put the ring on. Unless
+her quaint old cable chain could be called such. _That_ Dolly always
+wore. She was a sweet, quaint figure, illuminated by the firelight, as
+Christina observed her; girlish and graceful, with a fair face and
+beautiful hair; the sober dress and the true womanly eyes making a
+certain hidden harmony, and the cameo setting a seal of daintiness and
+rareness to the whole. Christina was seized with admiration that had a
+good deal of respect blended with it of a sudden.
+
+"You don't agree with me, Dolly," she said after a little, when Dolly's
+thanks and the beauty of the ring had been sufficiently discussed, and
+a pause had brought the thoughts of both back to the former subject.
+
+"What do you want, Christina?"
+
+"I just want to be happy and comfortable," said the girl, "as I always
+have been. I don't want to come down to pinching. Is that unreasonable?"
+
+"You would not have to pinch, Christina."
+
+"Yes, I should; to live like the rest of the world."
+
+"Are you obliged to do that?"
+
+"Live like the rest of the world? Yes, or be out of the world."
+
+"I thought you were a Christian," said Dolly softly.
+
+"A Christian! Yes, so I am. What has that got to do with it?"
+
+"A good deal, I should say. Tiny, you cannot follow Christ and be like
+the world."
+
+"I don't want to be like the world, in bad things; but I mean things
+that are not bad. One must be like the world in some ways, if one can.
+Don't you set up for being any better than me, Dolly, for I won't stand
+it; we are all really just alike."
+
+"The world and Christians?"
+
+"Yes; in some things."
+
+"Ways of living?"
+
+"Yes,--in some ways."
+
+"Christina, did you use to think so in old times?"
+
+"I was young then; I did not know the world. You have _got_ to do as
+the world do, in a measure, Dolly."
+
+Dolly was silent a bit. She too, on her part, observed her friend. Fair
+and handsome she was; very handsome; with the placid luxuriance of
+nature which has never known shocks or adverse weather. Dolly felt the
+contrast which Christina had also felt, but Dolly went deeper into it.
+She and her friend had drifted apart, not in regard for each other, but
+in life and character; and Dolly involuntarily compared their
+experiences. Trouble to Christina was a word of unknown meaning; to
+herself it was become daily bread. Had that made the difference?
+Christina was living on the surface of things; skimming a smooth sea in
+a gilded gondola; shelter and adornment were all about her life, and
+plenty within. Dolly had been, as it were, cast into the waves and was
+struggling with them; now lifted on a high crest, and now brought down
+to the bottom. Was that how she had learned to know that there were
+wonderful things of preciousness and beauty at the bottom of the sea?
+and must one perhaps be tossed by the storm to find out the value and
+the power of the hand that helps? It did smite Dolly with a kind of
+pain, the sense of Christina's sheltered position and security; the
+thought of the father's arms that were a harbour for her, the
+guardianship that came between her and all the roughness of the world.
+And yet, Dolly along with the bitterness of this, was tasting also
+something else which did not enter Christina's cup of life; a rarer
+sweetness, which she would not have exchanged for Christina's whole
+draught. She had found jewels more precious at the depth of the sea
+than ever Christina could pick up in her pleasure sail along shore.
+Christina, with all her luxury, was missing something, and in danger of
+losing more. Dolly resolved to speak.
+
+"Do you know, Tiny," she said, "if I were Mr. Shubrick, I should not be
+satisfied?"
+
+"Why not?" said Christina carelessly.
+
+"Why, you are preferring the world to him."
+
+"I am not! No such thing, Dolly. I love him dearly."
+
+"By your own showing, you love--what shall I say?--luxuries and
+position, more."
+
+"I only want to wait a little."
+
+"And, Christina--I don't believe God likes it."
+
+"Likes what?"
+
+"Your wanting to do as the world do."
+
+"How do you know I do?"
+
+"You said so."
+
+"I like to have a nice house, and servants enough, and furniture to
+please me, and means to entertain my friends; and who doesn't? That's
+all I ask for."
+
+"And to do what everybody else does."
+
+"Yes," said Christina smiling. "Who don't?"
+
+"You were on the Pincian Hill Sunday afternoon."
+
+"Yes," said Christina suddenly, looking up. "Why not? Why weren't you
+there?"
+
+"If you will read the last two verses of the fifty-eighth chapter of
+Isaiah, you will know."
+
+"I can't read in this light," said Christina, looking round the room,
+"and I don't know just where I have laid my Bible. Everybody goes to
+the Pincian. It's no harm."
+
+"Would Mr. Shubrick go?"
+
+"Who told you he wouldn't?" said Christina. "I declare, if you are
+going to help him in his crotchets, I won't let you see much of him!
+Sandie!--he's just an unmanageable, unreasonable bit of
+downrightness.--And uprightness," she added, laughing. "Dolly, he can
+have his own way aboard ship; but in the world one can't get along so.
+One must conform a little. One must."
+
+"Does God like it?" said Dolly.
+
+"What queer questions you ask! This is not a matter of religion; it is
+only living."
+
+Dolly remembered words which came very inconveniently across
+Christina's principles; yet she was afraid of saying too much. She
+reflected that her friend was breathing the soft air of luxury, which
+is not strengthening, and enveloped in a kind of mist of
+conventionality, through which she could not see. With herself it was
+different. She had been thrown out of all that; forced to do battle
+with necessity and difficulty, and so driven to lay hold of the one
+hand of strength and deliverance that she could reach. What wonder if
+she held it fast and held it dear? while Christina seemed hardly to
+have ever felt the need of anything.
+
+"Now, Dolly, tell me all about yourself," Christina broke in upon her
+meditations.
+
+"There isn't much to tell."
+
+"What have you been doing?"
+
+"Painting miniatures--one of the last things."
+
+"Oh, delightful! Copies?"
+
+"Copies from life. May I take you? and then perhaps, if I succeed, you
+will get me work."
+
+"Work!" repeated Christina.
+
+Dolly nodded. "Yes; I want work."
+
+"Work!" cried Christina again. "Dolly, you don't mean that you _need_
+it? Don't say that!"
+
+"I do. That's nothing so dreadful, if only I can get it. I paint
+miniatures for--I have had ten and I have had twenty pounds," said
+Dolly with a laugh; "but twenty is magnificent. I do not ask twenty."
+
+Christina exclaimed with real sorrow and interest, and was eager to
+know the cause of such a state of things. Dolly could but give her the
+bare facts, not the philosophy of them.
+
+"You poor, dear, lovely little Dolly!" cried Christina. "A thought
+strikes me. Why don't you marry this handsome, rich young Englishman?"
+
+Again Dolly's face dimpled all over.
+
+"The thought don't strike me," she said.
+
+"But he's very rich, isn't he?"
+
+"Yes. That is nothing to me. I wouldn't give my father and mother for
+him."
+
+"But for your father and mother's sake?"--There was a knock at the door
+here. "What is it? dinner? Come, Dolly; we'll reason afterwards."
+
+The dinner was excellent. More than the excellence, however, went to
+Dolly's enjoyment. The rare luxury of eating without having to think
+what it cost, and without careful management to make sure that enough
+was left for the next day's breakfast and lunch. It was great luxury!
+and how Dolly felt it, no one there could in the least guess. With
+that, however, as the evening went on and the unwonted soft atmosphere
+of ease was taking effect upon her, Dolly again and again drew the
+contrast between herself and her friend. How sheltered and guarded, and
+fenced in and fenced off, Christina was! how securely and safely
+blooming in the sacred enclosure of fatherly and motherly care! and
+Dolly--alas, alas! _her_ defences were all down, and she herself,
+delicate and tender, forced into the defender's place, to shield those
+who should have shielded her. It pressed on her by degrees, as the
+sweet unaccustomed feeling of ease and rest made itself more and more
+sensible, and by contrast she realised more and more the absence of it
+in her own life. It pressed very bitterly.
+
+The girls had just withdrawn again after dinner to the firelight
+cosiness of Christina's room, when Mrs. Thayer put her head in.
+
+"Christina, here's Baron Krämer and Signor Count Villa Bella, come to
+know if you will go to the Sistine Chapel."
+
+"Mother!--how you put titles together! Oh, I remember; there is music
+at the Sistine to-night. But Sandie might come."
+
+"And might not," said Mrs. Thayer. "You will have time enough to see
+Sandie; and this is Christmas Eve, you know. You may not be in Rome
+next Christmas."
+
+"Would you like to go, Dolly?" said Christina doubtfully.
+
+Dolly's heart jumped at the invitation; music and the Sistine Chapel!
+But it did not suit her to make an inconvenient odd one in a partie
+carrée, among strangers. She declined.
+
+"I said I would go," said Mrs. Thayer. "Since the gentlemen have come
+to take you, I think you had better. Dolly will not mind losing you for
+an hour or two."
+
+Which Dolly eagerly confirmed; wondering much at the same time to see
+Christina hesitate, when her lover, as she said, might come at any
+minute.
+
+She, too, finally resolved against it, however; and when Mrs. Thayer
+and the gentlemen had gone, and Mr. Thayer had withdrawn, as his custom
+was, to his own apartment, the two girls took possession of the
+forsaken drawing-room. It was a pretty room, very well furnished, and
+like every other part of the present home of the Thayers, running over
+with new possessions in the shape of bits of art or antiquity,
+pictures, and trinkets of every kind, which they were always picking
+up. These were an infinite amusement to Dolly; and Christina was
+good-humouredly pleased with her pleasure.
+
+"There's no fun in being in Rome," she remarked, "if you cannot buy all
+you see. I would run away if my purse gave out."
+
+"But there is all that you cannot take away," said Dolly. "Think of
+what your mother has gone to this evening."
+
+"The Sistine Chapel," said Christina. "I don't really care for it.
+Those stupid old prophets and sybils say nothing to me; though of
+course one must make a fuss about them; and the picture of the Last
+Judgment, _I_ think, is absolutely frightful."
+
+But here Dolly's eyes arrested her friend.
+
+"Well, I tell you the truth; I do think so," she said. "I may tell the
+truth to you. I do not care one pin for Michael Angelo."
+
+"Mayn't you tell the truth to anybody?"
+
+"Not unless I want to be stared at; and I do not want to be stared at,
+in _that_ way. I am glad I did not go with mamma and those people; if
+Sandie had come, I do not think he would have altogether liked it.
+Though I don't know but it is good to make men jealous. Mamma says it
+is."
+
+"Oh no!" said Dolly. "Not anybody you care for."
+
+"What do _you_ know?" said Christina archly. Before she could receive
+an answer, then, she had started and sprung up; for the door gently
+opened and on the threshold presented himself a gentleman in naval
+uniform.
+
+"Sandie!" cried Christina.
+
+"Didn't you expect me?" he said with a frank and bright smile.
+
+Dolly had heard enough about this personage to make her very curious;
+and her eyes took keen note of him. She saw a tall, upright figure,
+with that free poise of bearing which is a compound of strength and
+ease; effortless, quiet, graceful, and dignified. Though in part the
+result of a certain symmetry of joints and practised activity in the
+use of them, this sort of bearing refers itself also, and yet more
+surely, to the character, and makes upon the beholder the impression
+again of strength and ease in the mental action. It is not common; it
+struck Dolly in the first five steps he made into the room and in the
+manner of his greeting his betrothed. Out of delicate consideration, I
+suppose, for the company in which they found themselves, he offered
+only a look and a hand-clasp; but Christina jumped up and kissed him.
+She was not short, yet she had to make a little spring to reach his
+lips. And then, quietly putting an arm round her, he gave her her kiss
+back. Christina was rosy when she turned to present him, and both were
+smiling. Letting her go, he bowed low before Christina's friend; low
+and gravely; with such absolute gravity that Dolly almost felt herself
+in the way; as if he wished her not there. Then they sat down around
+the fire; and the same feeling came over her again with a rush. They
+were three; they ought to have been but two; she was one too many; they
+must wish her away. And yet, Christina had asked her precisely and
+specially that she might be one of the company that night. Dolly would
+have wished herself away, nevertheless; only that she was so very much
+interested, and could not. The newcomer excited her curiosity greatly,
+and provoked her observation; and, if the truth must be told, exercised
+also a powerful attraction upon her. He sat before the fire, full in
+her view, and struck Dolly as different from all the people she had
+ever seen in her life. She took glances from time to time, as she
+could, at the fine, frank, manly face, which had an unusual combination
+of the two qualities, frankness and manliness; was much more than
+usually serious, for a man of his age; and yet, she saw now and then,
+could break to tenderness or pleasure or amusement, with a sweetness
+that was winning. Dolly was fascinated, and could not wish herself
+away; why should she, if Christina did not?
+
+In all her life she never forgot the images of two of the people around
+the fire that evening. "Sandie" in the middle, in front of the blaze;
+Christina on the other hand of him. She was in a glistening robe of
+dark blue silk, her fair hair knotted and wound gracefully about her
+head; a beautiful creature; looking at her lover with complacent looks
+of possession and smiles of welcome. Dolly never knew what sort of a
+figure the third was; she could not see herself, and she never thought
+about it. Yet she was a foil to the other two, and they were a foil to
+her, as she sat there at the corner of the hearth on a low cushion, in
+her black dress, and with no ornament about her other than the cameo
+ring. A creature very different from the beauty at the other corner of
+the fireplace; more delicate, more sensitive, more spiritual; oddly and
+inexplicably, more of a child and more of a woman. That's a rare
+mixture. There was something exceedingly sweet and simple in her soft
+brown eyes and her lips; but the eyes had looked at life, the brow was
+grave, and the lips could close into lines of steady will. The delicate
+vessel was the shrine of a soul, as large as it could hold, and so had
+taken on the transparent nobility which belongs to the body when the
+soul is allowed to be dominant. One point of the contrast between the
+two girls was in the character and arrangement of their hair.
+Christina's was smooth, massed, and in a sort massive; Dolly's
+clustered or was knotted about her head, without the least disorder,
+but with a wilfulness of elegant play most harmonious with all the rest
+of her appearance. To characterise the two in a word, Christina was a
+beautiful pearl, and Dolly was a translucent opal.
+
+They sat down round the fire.
+
+"Well, Sandie, you naughty boy," Christina began, "what has kept you
+away all this time?"
+
+"Duty."
+
+"Duty! I told you so, Dolly; this man has only two or three words in
+his vocabulary, which he trots out on all occasions to do general
+service. One of them is 'duty;' another is 'must.'"
+
+"'Must' is the true child of 'duty,'" the gentleman remarked.
+
+"Oh no, I don't allow that; it is a marriage connection, which may be
+dissolved by a dispensation."
+
+"Is that your idea of the marriage connection?" said he with a smile.
+
+"But, Sandie! don't you want something to eat?"
+
+"No, thank you."
+
+"Because you can have it in a moment."
+
+"I have dined, Christina."
+
+"Where have you been all this while--weeks and weeks?"
+
+"Have you not received any letters from me?"
+
+"Yes, indeed! but words are so different spoken and written. We have
+been half over Europe. I wish you could have been along! Sandie, we
+went to Baden-Baden."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"_What for!_ Why, to see it. And we saw the gaming."
+
+"How did you like it?"
+
+"It is fascinating. I never saw such a scene in my life; the people's
+faces; and then the mad eagerness with which they went at it; old men
+and young men, and women. Oh, it was astonishing to see the women!"
+
+"What was the effect upon you?"
+
+"I don't know; astonishment."
+
+"How did Mrs. Thayer like it?"
+
+"Do you know, I think she half wanted to try her hand? I was so amazed
+at mother! I told her she must not."
+
+"You observe, Miss Copley, Miss Thayer knows the use of one of my
+words."
+
+It was a strange, novel, absorbing experience to Dolly. Sitting at one
+corner of the hearth, quiet, and a little as it were a one side, she
+watched the play and the people. She was so delightfully set free for
+the moment from all her home cares and life anxieties. It was like
+getting out of the current and rush of the waves into a nook of a bay,
+where her tossed little skiff could lie still for a bit, and the
+dangers and difficulties of navigation did not demand her attention.
+She rested luxuriously and amused herself with seeing and hearing what
+went on. And to tell the whole truth, Dolly was more than amused; she
+was interested; and watched and listened keenly. Christina was a lovely
+figure in her bright dress and bright beauty, a little excited, and
+happy, not too much; not too much to make Dolly's presence desirable
+and agreeable; just enough to make her more lovely than usual. The
+other figure of the little party was more interesting yet to Dolly. She
+thought he was very peculiar, and unlike any one she had ever seen. His
+repose of demeanour was striking; he seemed to make no unnecessary
+movement; he sat still; neither hand nor head nor foot betrayed any
+restlessness either of mind or body; and yet when he did move, were it
+only hand or foot or head, the impression he gave Dolly was of
+readiness for the keenest action, if the time for action once came. How
+the two seemingly contradictory impressions were conveyed together,
+Dolly did not stop to think; she had no time to moralise upon her
+observations; however, this mingling of calm and vigour was very
+imposing to her; it attracted and fascinated. No man could sit more
+quiet in company; and yet, if he turned his head or shifted the
+position of his hand, what Dolly saw was power and readiness to move
+with effect if there were anything to be done; and the calm intensified
+the power to her mind. And then, apart from all this, the room in which
+they were sitting was filled with pretty things and charming things
+which the Thayers had been collecting since they came to Rome. Dolly's
+eye strayed from one to another, as she sat listening to her
+companions; though the pretty things never diverted her attention from
+what these were saying or what they were doing. It was a charmed hour
+altogether! of rest and relief and enjoyment. Taken out of herself and
+away from her cares, Dolly tasted and delighted in the fairy minutes as
+they flew, and did not even trouble herself to think how soon they
+would be flown by and gone.
+
+"You have been a great while away, Sandie," Christina was saying. "Why
+could you not join us before? You might have skipped something. Here
+have I stayed away from the Sistine to-night, for your sake."
+
+"Is it any special loss, this evening of all others?"
+
+"Certainly! It is Christmas; there is music, and company."
+
+"Do you enjoy the Sistine Chapel, apart from music and company?"
+
+"No, indeed I don't! I don't like it at all. Such horrid things on the
+walls, as are enough to give one the nightmare after being there. I
+know it is Michael Angelo, and I am horribly out of order in saying so;
+but what is the use of pretending in _this_ company?"
+
+"What is the use of pretending in any company?"
+
+"Oh, nonsense, Sandie! a great deal. Everybody pretends, at some time
+or other. What would become of us if we spoke out all we had in our
+minds?"
+
+"You do not like the Sistine Chapel. What do you enjoy most in Rome?"
+
+"Most? The Pincian, Sunday afternoon."
+
+"Sunday! Why Sunday?"
+
+"Music, and all the world there. It's the most beautiful scene, in the
+first place, and the most amusing, that you can find. There is
+_everybody_ there, Sandie; people from all the quarters of the earth;
+of all nationalities and costumes; the oddest and the prettiest;
+everybody you know and everybody you don't know."
+
+"But why on Sunday?"
+
+"Oh, that's the special day; that and Thursday, I believe; but I
+generally have something else to do Thursday; and anyhow there isn't as
+good a show. I rarely go Thursday."
+
+"And Sunday you have nothing else to do. I see."
+
+"Well, Sandie, of course we have been to church in the morning, you
+know. There is nothing to go to in the afternoon. What should one do?"
+
+"Miss Copley, do you enjoy the Pincian on Sunday evenings?"
+
+"I have not tried it," said Dolly.
+
+"Your mother and father were there, though, last Sunday," said
+Christina. "Sandie, what are you thinking of? You have some
+superstitious objection? I daresay you have!"
+
+"Not I," said Mr. Shubrick. "But it occurs to me that there is a
+command somewhere, touching the question."
+
+"What command? In the Bible! Sandie, do you think those Sunday commands
+are to be taken just as they stand--to mean just so? and shut one
+stupidly up in the house for all day Sunday except when one is going in
+procession to church?"
+
+"You know," said Mr. Shubrick, "I am like the centurion in the Bible,
+'a man under authority,' having other men under me; 'and I say to this
+man, Go, and he goeth; and to another, Come and he cometh.' I know
+nothing about orders that are not to be obeyed."
+
+"And is that the way you would rule your house?" said Christina, half
+pouting.
+
+"I should leave that to you," he answered smiling. "It is enough for me
+to rule my ship. The house would be your care."
+
+"Would it? Does that mean that you expect always to be a sailor?"
+
+"It is my profession. A man must do something."
+
+"If he _must_. But not if he has no need to do anything?"
+
+The young officer looked at her with a considerative sort of gravity,
+and inquired if she could respect a lazy man.
+
+"No, and you never would be lazy, or could be lazy," she said,
+laughing. "But surely there are things enough to be done on shore."
+
+"Things enough. The question for every one is where he can do most."
+
+"Why, Sandie," Christina cried, "it is not possible that you should
+have your time to yourself on shipboard, and as an acting officer, as
+you could at home on shore. Reading and study, that, you like, I know;
+and then painting, and all art pleasures, that you think so much about,
+much more than I do; and a thousand other things;--you have no chance
+for them at sea."
+
+"You talk as if one had nothing to do but to please himself."
+
+"Well," said Christina, "so far as one can, why not? Does not all the
+world?"
+
+"Yes. All the world. You are right. All the world, except a little body
+of men who follow Christ; and _He_, pleased not Himself. I thought you
+knew I was one of His servants, Christina."
+
+"Does that forbid your pleasing yourself?"
+
+"Not in one way," said Mr. Shubrick, smiling again, a smile that made
+Dolly's heart throb with its meaning. "It is my pleasure to do my
+Master's will. The work He has given me to do, I would rather do of all
+things."
+
+"I can't think what work you mean, Sandie. I really do not understand."
+
+"Do you understand, Miss Copley?"
+
+Dolly started. "I believe so," she said.
+
+"Will you have the goodness to explain to Christina?"
+
+"Why don't you explain yourself, Sandie?" said his betrothed.
+
+"I am talking too much. Besides, it will come better from Miss Copley's
+lips."
+
+"I don't think so; but however.--Well, Dolly, if you are to explain,
+please explain. But how come _you_ to understand, when I don't
+understand? What work does he mean?"
+
+"I suppose," said Dolly, "Mr. Shubrick means work for other people."
+
+"Work for other people!" cried Christina. "Do you think _we_ do not do
+work for other people? Mamma gives away loads; she does a great deal
+for the poor. She is always doing it."
+
+"And you?"
+
+"Oh, I help now and then. But she does not want my help much."
+
+"Did you think, Miss Copley, I meant work for poor people?"
+
+"No," said Dolly. "At least--that is--I thought you meant the work that
+is for Christ."
+
+"Well, I am sure He commanded us to take care of the poor," said
+Christina.
+
+"He commanded us also to carry the gospel to every creature."
+
+"That's for ministers, and missionaries," said Christina.
+
+"The order was given to all the disciples, and He commanded us to be
+lights in the world."
+
+"Of course--to set good examples."
+
+"That is not quite the whole," said Mr. Shubrick; "though people do
+take it so, I believe."
+
+"I have always taken it so," said Dolly. "What more can it be?"
+
+"Remember the words--'Whatsoever _doth make manifest_ is light.' There
+is the key. There are good examples--so called--which disturb nobody.
+There are others,"--he spoke very gravely,--"before which sin knows
+itself, and conscience shrinks away; before which no lie can stand.
+Those are the Lord's light-bearers."
+
+"Sandie, what has got you into this vein of moralising? Is this talk
+for Christmas Eve, when we ought to be merry? Don't you lead a dreadful
+dull life on board ship?"
+
+"No," said he. "Never. Neither there nor anywhere else."
+
+"Are you always picking at the wick of that light of yours, to make it
+shine more?"
+
+"By no means. No lamp would stand such treatment. No; the only thing
+for us to do in that connection is to see that the supply of oil is
+kept up."
+
+"Sandie, life would be fearful on your terms!"
+
+"I do not find it so."
+
+And, "Oh no, Christina!" came from Dolly's lips at the same time.
+Christina looked from one to the other.
+
+"I had better gone to the Sistine," she said. "I suppose you would tell
+me there to look at Michael Angelo's picture of the Last Judgment. But
+I assure you I never do. I make a point not to see it."
+
+"What do _you_ enjoy most in this old city, Miss Copley?" Mr. Shubrick
+said now, turning to her.
+
+"I hardly can tell," said Dolly; "I enjoy it all so very much. I think,
+of all--perhaps the Colosseum."
+
+"That old ruin!" said Christina.
+
+"But it is such a beautiful ruin! Have you seen it by moonlight? And I
+always think of the time when it was finished, and full, and of the
+things that were done there; and I fancy the times when the moonlight
+shone in just so after the days when Christians had been given to the
+lions. I never get tired of the Colosseum."
+
+"You, too!" exclaimed Christina. "What pleasant and enlivening
+contemplations!"
+
+"Yes," said Dolly. "Grand. I see the moonlight shining on the broken
+walls of the Colosseum, and I think of the martyrs in their white
+robes. There is no place brings me nearer to heaven, and the world
+looks so small."
+
+"Dolly Copley!" cried Christina. "Do you want the world to look small,
+as long as you are obliged to live in it?"
+
+"It looks big enough," said Dolly, smiling, "as soon as I get home."
+
+The conversation, however, after this did take a turn, and ran upon
+more everyday topics; less interesting to Dolly however. But the
+speakers were interesting always; and she watched them, the play of
+sense and nonsense, of feeling and fun, not caring much that the matter
+of the talk did not concern her; until Mrs. Thayer and her escort were
+heard returning.
+
+And then, indeed, the evening changed its character; however the
+fascination remained for Dolly. The talk was no longer on personal
+subjects; it went gaily and jovially over all sorts of light matters;
+an excellent supper was served; and in the novelty and the brightness
+and the liveliness of all about her, Dolly was in a kind of
+bewitchment. It was a lull, a pause in the midst of her cares, a still
+nook to which an eddy had brought her, out of the current; Dolly took
+the full benefit. She would not think of trouble. Sometimes a swift
+feeling of contrast swept in upon her, the contrast of her friend's
+safe and sheltered life. No care for her; no anxiety about ways and
+means; no need to work for money; and no need to fear for anybody dear
+to her. Christina's father was _her_ guardian, not she his; he might be
+a very humdrum man, and no doubt was, but his daughter had no cause to
+be ashamed for him; had not the burden of his life and character on her
+own shoulders to take care of. A swift, keen feeling of this contrast
+would come over Dolly; but she put it away as instantly, and would not
+see or hear anything but what was pleasant.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+NAPLES.
+
+Dolly shared her friend's room. Talk ran on, all the while they were
+undressing, upon all manner of trifles. When they were laid down,
+however, and Dolly was just rejoicing to be quiet and think, Christina
+began to speak in a different tone.
+
+"Dolly, how do you like him?"
+
+I think, if Dolly had liked him less, she would have been fuller in his
+praise. I do not know by what sort of hidden instinct and unconscious
+diplomacy she answered very coolly and with no enthusiasm.
+
+"I like him very well. I think he is true."
+
+"True! Of course he is true. If he wouldn't be so stupid. To expect one
+to be unlike all the world."
+
+Dolly was silent.
+
+"He's crochetty, that's what he is," Christina went on. "I hate a man
+to be crochetty. I shall work him out of it, if ever we come to live
+together."
+
+"I don't believe you will, Christina."
+
+"Why not?"--quickly.
+
+"I don't _think_ you will," Dolly repeated.
+
+"Because you have the same notions that he has. My dear little Dolly!
+you don't know the world. You _can't_ live in the world and be running
+your head perpetually against it; indeed you cannot. You may break your
+head, but you won't do anything else. And the world will laugh at you."
+
+"But, Christina, whom do you serve? For it comes to that."
+
+"Whom do I serve! Pooh, that's not the question."
+
+"It comes to that, Christina."
+
+"Well, of course there is but one answer. But Sandie would have me give
+up everything;--everything!--all I like, and all I want to do."
+
+"Christina, it seems to me the Bible says we must give Christ our whole
+selves."
+
+"Oh, if you are going to take the Bible literally"----
+
+"How else can you take it?"
+
+"Seasonably."
+
+"But how are you going to settle what is reasonable? Didn't the Lord
+know what He wanted His people to do? And He said we must give Him
+ourselves and all we have got."
+
+"Have you?" said Christina.
+
+"What?"
+
+"Given up all, as you say?"
+
+"I think I have," Dolly answered slowly. "I am sure, Christina, I do
+not want anything but what God chooses to give me."
+
+"And are you ready to give up all your own pleasure and amusement, and
+your time, and be like no one else, and have no friends in the world?"
+Christina spoke the words in a kind of hurry.
+
+"You go too fast," said Dolly. "You ask too many things at once; and
+you forget what Mr. Shubrick said--that it is pleasure to please our
+Master. _He_ said it was His meat to do His Father's will; and He is
+our pattern. And doing His will does not prevent either pleasure or
+amusement, of the right sort; not at all. O Christina! I do not think
+anybody is rightly happy, except those who love Christ and obey him."
+
+"Are you happy?" was the next quick question. Dolly could not answer it
+as immediately.
+
+"If I am not," she said at last, "it is because there are some things
+in my life just now that--trouble me."
+
+"Dear Dolly!" said Christina affectionately. "But you looked quite
+happy this evening."
+
+"I was," said Dolly. "You made me so."
+
+Christina kissed her, and thereupon at once fell asleep. But Dolly was
+not sleepy. Her thoughts were wide awake, and roved over everything in
+the world, it seemed to her; at least over all her friend's affairs and
+over all her own. She was not fretting, only looking at things.
+Christina's ease and security and carelessness, her own burdens and
+responsibilities; the fulness of means here, the difficulty of getting
+supplies in her own household; Sandie Shubrick, finally, and Lawrence
+St. Leger! What a strange difference between one lot and another! It
+was a bright night; the moonlight streamed in at one of the windows in
+a yellow flood. Dolly lay staring at the pool of light on the floor.
+Roman moonlight! And so the same moonlight had poured down in old times
+upon the city of the Caesars; lighted up their palaces and triumphal
+arches; yes, and the pile of the Colosseum and the bones of the
+martyrs. The same moonlight! Old Rome lay buried; the oppressor and the
+oppressed were passed away; the persecutor and his victims alike long
+gone from the scene of their doings and sufferings; and the same moon
+shining on! What shadows we are in comparison! thought Dolly; and then
+her thoughts instantly corrected themselves. Not we, but _this_, is the
+shadow; this material, so unchanging earth. Sense misleads us. "The
+world passeth away and the lust thereof; but he that doeth the will of
+God abideth for ever." Then it is only to do that, thought Dolly; be it
+hard or easy; that is the only thing to care about. And therewith
+another word came to her; it seemed to be written in the
+moonlight:--"Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?" It came so
+soft and sweet upon Dolly's heart as I can hardly tell; her eyelids
+dropped from their watch, and in another minute she too was fast asleep.
+
+The next day was wholly pleasant to her. It was merry, as Christmas
+ought to be; and Dolly had laid aside her own cares and took everything
+as light-heartedly as anybody else. More, perhaps, if the truth were
+known; for Dolly had laid her cares she knew where, and that they would
+be looked after. The pleasant people, whose festivities she shared,
+were all kind to her; she had not been forgotten in the gifts which
+were flying about; and altogether the day was a white one. It only
+ended too soon. At four o'clock Dolly prepared to go home. Christina
+protested that she was not wanted there.
+
+"I am wanted more than you think. I must give mother a piece of my
+Christmas Day."
+
+"Well, you're all coming to us at Sorrento, remember; and that will be
+charming. We will go everywhere together. And Sandie;--you will be with
+us, Sandie? in the spring, at the villa? Oh, you must!"
+
+"If I possibly can," he said gravely.
+
+"And Sandie will take you home now, as you must go. I see he is ready."
+
+Dolly would have objected, but she could not alter this arrangement;
+and Mr. Shubrick walked home with her. It was a very matter-of-fact
+walk, however. There was as nearly as possible no conversation between
+the two. Nevertheless, the walk had its fascination for Dolly. The
+stately, straight, manly figure beside her, inspired her with an
+admiration which had a little awe mixed with it; to walk with him, even
+in silence, was an undoubted pleasure; and when he took leave of her at
+the door of her lodgings and turned away, Dolly felt, and not till
+then, that her holiday was over.
+
+She went up the stairs slowly. Her short holiday was over. Now work
+again. Well! Dolly remembered the conclusion of last night's thoughts
+in the moonlight; took up her burden on her shoulders, and carried it
+up stairs with her.
+
+She found her mother alone.
+
+"Dearest mother, how do you do?" she said, kissing her; "and how has
+the day been? I have stayed away pretty late, but I could hardly help
+it; and I have had a very nice time."
+
+"I don't like holidays," was Mrs. Copley's answer. "They're the
+wearisomest days I know; especially when every one else is out and
+enjoying himself. This Christmas has been a year long, seems to me. Who
+did you see?"
+
+"Just themselves, and Christina's friend, Mr. Shubrick."
+
+"What's he like?"
+
+"He's very fine, mother, I think. Christina ought to be a happy woman."
+
+"He hasn't got anything, as I understand?" said Mrs. Copley.  "I don't
+think Mrs. Thayer is at all delighted with the match. I know I
+shouldn't be."
+
+"Mrs. Thayer does not see things with my eyes, probably; and you don't
+see them at all, mother, dear, not knowing Mr. Shubrick. Look at my
+presents; see this lovely cameo ring; Christina gave it to me Christmas
+Eve; and this brooch is from Mrs. Thayer; and Mr. Thayer gave me this
+dear little bronze lamp."
+
+"What do you want with such a thing as that? you can't use it."
+
+"Oh, for the antique beauty, mother; and the lovely shape. It's real
+bronze, and Mr. Thayer says the workmanship is very fine."
+
+"But he has nothing, has he?" said Mrs. Copley, weighing the bronze
+lamp in her hand disapprovingly.
+
+"Who? He has another just like it. Do you mean Mr. Thayer?"
+
+"Pshaw, child, no! I mean the other man, Christina's intended. He has
+nothing, has he?"
+
+"I do not know what you call 'nothing.' He has a very fine figure, an
+excellent face, sense and firmness and gentleness; and a manner that's
+fascinating. I never saw anybody with a finer manner. I think he has a
+good deal."
+
+"Mr. St. Leger has all that, Dolly, and money to boot."
+
+"Mother! There is all the difference in the world between the two men."
+
+"St. Leger has the money, though; and that makes more difference than
+anything else I know of. Dolly, I _wish_ you would make up your mind. I
+think that would bring your father all right."
+
+"Where is father, mother?"
+
+"Gone out."
+
+"But I thought he would stay with you while I was away. Couldn't you
+keep him at home, mother? just this one day?"
+
+"I never try to influence your father's motions, Dolly. I never did.
+And it would be no use. Men do not bear that sort of thing."
+
+"What sort of thing?"
+
+"Interference. They never do. No man of any spunk does. They are all
+alike in that."
+
+"Do you mean that no man will give up any of his pleasure for a woman
+that he loves, and that loves him?"
+
+"While men are just in love, Dolly, and before they are married, they
+will make fools of themselves; and for a little while after. Then
+things fall into their regular train; and their regular train is as I
+tell you. Let a man alone, if you want to keep the peace and have a
+comfortable time, Dolly. I _never_ interfere with your father. I never
+did."
+
+Would it have been better if she had? Dolly queried. _She_ must
+interfere with him now, and it was hard. Dolly thought the wife might
+have done it easier than the daughter. She did not believe her father
+was looking up antiquities; she had not faith in his love of art; he
+could be on no good errand, she greatly feared. Christmas Day! and he
+would go out and leave his nervous, invalid wife to count her fingers
+in solitude; not even waiting till Dolly should be at home again. _Are_
+all men like that? Mr. Shubrick, for instance? But what was to be done?
+If Mr. Copley had found places and means of dissipation in Rome, then
+Rome was a safe abode for him no longer. Where would be a safe abode?
+Dolly's heart was bitter in its sorrow for a moment; then she gathered
+herself up.
+
+"Mother, do you like Rome?"
+
+"Why should I like it? I think we came away from Venice a great deal
+too soon. You would come, Dolly. There is nothing here, for me, but old
+tumbledown places; and the meals are not near so good as we had there
+in Venice. No, I'm sick and tired of Rome. I'm glad you've had a good
+Christmas Day; it's been forlorn to me."
+
+"I won't go again from you, mother. Will you like to make a visit to
+the Thayers at their villa?"
+
+"I don't know. Is Mr. St. Leger invited?"
+
+"Particularly."
+
+"And the other man?"
+
+"What other man?" said Dolly, laughing.
+
+"You know,--Christina's man."
+
+"He is asked. I do not know about his coming. He would if he could, he
+said. Why? do you want to see him?"
+
+"No."
+
+It was well on in the evening before Mr. Copley made his appearance.
+And then he was taciturn and not in an agreeable temper. The worse for
+wine he was not, in one sense; he was in no measure overcome by it; but
+Dolly knew that he had been taking it somewhere. O fathers! she
+thought, if you are not to "provoke your children to anger," neither
+ought you to drive them to despair; and you ought never, never, to let
+them blush for you! That I should be ashamed for _my father!_
+
+She said nothing that night but what was in the way of sweetest
+ministry to both father and mother. She talked of all that she had seen
+and done during her visit. She got out a supper of fruit, and would
+have them eat it. Not very easy work, for her father was glum and her
+mother unresponsive; but she did what could be done. Next day she
+proposed going on to Sorrento.
+
+"It does not agree very well with mother here; at least I do not think
+she is gaining; and she does not enjoy it."
+
+"You enjoy it, don't you?"
+
+"Oh yes; as far as that goes. But I care more for mother and you."
+
+"And I care for you, Dolly. No, no; we are old people; it doesn't
+signify a rush whether we like it or no. You are young, and you are
+here for once, in Rome, and I am not going away till you've seen it
+fairly. Don't you say so, mother, hey? Now she has got a good chance,
+she must use it."
+
+"I'm afraid it's expensive," put in Mrs. Copley.
+
+"Nonsense; no more than anywhere else. It'll be just about the same
+thing at Sorrento, or wherever you go. See all you can, Dolly. We'll
+stay."
+
+"I should think you would send Rupert home, at least," said his wife
+rather disconsolately; but true to her principles she put in no
+objection to her husband's pleasure. "We might save so much."
+
+"We shouldn't save anything. Rupert makes himself very useful; if we
+had not him, we should want some rogue of a courier. I'll keep Rupert.
+How he enjoys it, the dog!"
+
+Rupert was invaluable to Dolly, though she said nothing about it.
+Always ready to attend upon her, always devoted to her wishes, her
+intelligent companion, and her most faithful and efficient servant in
+making purchases of drawing materials or in disposing of her finished
+work. Dolly attempted to overrule the decision made ostensibly in her
+favour, that their stay in Rome should be prolonged; but had no
+success. Everybody, except only her mother, was against her. And though
+she feared sadly that her father's motive was twofold and regarded his
+own pleasure more than hers, she could not change the present status of
+things.
+
+They remained at Rome all winter. It was a winter of mingled delight
+and distress to Dolly; strangely mingled. The immediate money cares
+were lifted off; that was one thing. The family lived cheaply, and gave
+themselves few indulgences, but the bills were paid, somehow; and it
+was a perpetual indulgence only to be in Rome. How Dolly took the good
+of it, I have not room to describe. She was busy, too; she even worked
+hard. Before the Thayers went away, she had taken all their portraits;
+and with so much acceptance that they introduced her to other friends;
+and Dolly's custom grew to be considerable. It paid well, for her
+pictures were really exquisite. Her great natural gift had been trained
+judiciously, so far as it was trained at all, in America; and now
+necessity spurred her, and practice helped her, and habitually
+conscientious work lost no time, and maturing sense and feeling added
+constant new charm to her performances, discernment to her eye, and
+skill to her hand. Dolly was accumulating a little stock of money
+against a time of need; and the secret knowledge of this was a
+perpetual comfort.
+
+And when she gave herself play-time, how she played! Then, with her
+father if she could get him, or with Rupert if, as most often was the
+case, Mr. Copley was out of the way or indisposed for sight-seeing,
+Dolly went about the old city, drinking in pleasure; revelling in
+historical associations, which were always a hobby of hers; feasting
+with untiring enjoyment on the wonders of architecture old and new; or
+in churches and galleries losing herself in rapt ecstasy before this or
+that marvel of the painter's art. It was a wonderful winter to Dolly.
+Many a young lady has passed the same season in the same place, but it
+is only one here and there who finds the hundredth part of the mental
+food and delectation that Dolly found. Day by day she was growing, and
+knew it; in delicacy of appreciation, in tenderness of feeling, in
+power of soul to grasp, in largeness of heart to love, in courage to do
+and suffer. For all Dolly's studying and enjoying she did in the light
+of Bible truth and the enriching of heavenly influences; and so, in
+pictures of the old masters and creations of the grand architects of
+old and new time, she found truth and teaching and testimony utterly
+missed by those who have not the right key. It is the same with nature
+and with all the great arts; for Truth is one; and if you are quite
+ignorant of her in her highest and grandest revelations, you cannot by
+possibility understand the more subordinate and initiative. Some dim
+sense of the hidden mystery, some vague appreciation of the outward
+beauty of the language without getting at its expressed meaning, or but
+very partially, just so far as you have the key; that is all there is
+for you.
+
+In all Dolly's horizon there was but one cloud. Lawrence was one of the
+company, it is true, almost one of the family; treated with greatest
+consideration and familiarity by both father and mother. But Dolly was
+not a weak young woman. She knew her own mind, and she had given
+Lawrence to know it; she was in no confusion about him, and her
+conscience was clear. Lawrence was also enjoying Rome, after his own
+fashion; if he was staying for her, Dolly did not know it, and it was
+not her fault.
+
+So her one only shadow upon the brightness at Rome came from her
+father. Not that he went into any great excesses; or if he did, they
+were hidden from Dolly; but he indulged himself, she knew, in one at
+least of his mischievous pleasures. She had no reason to suppose that
+he gambled; as I said, there was always money to discharge the weekly
+bills; but he found wine somewhere and drank it; that was certain; and
+when did ever evil habits stand still? If he kept within bounds now,
+who should warrant her that he would continue to do so? Mr. Copley came
+home sometimes cheerful and disposed to be merry; he had taken only
+enough to exhilarate him; at other times he came home gloomy and cross,
+and then Dolly knew he had drunk enough to confuse his head and
+slightly disturb his conscience. What could she do? She clenched her
+little hands sometimes when she was walking the streets, and sometimes
+she wrung them in impotent grief. She strove to win her father to share
+in her pleasures; with little success. She was lovely to him as a
+daughter could be, always; and at the same time she let him see by her
+grave face and subdued manner when he came home with the breath of wine
+upon his lips, that she was troubled and grieved. What more could she
+do? So her winter was a complication of great enjoyment with anxiety
+and mortification.
+
+About the end of March they left the delightful old city and set off
+southwards. To Sorrento, was Dolly's fond hope. But when they got to
+Naples, she found that all the men of the party were against proceeding
+further, at least before the pleasures and novelties of that place had
+also bean tasted.
+
+"There's a famous museum here, Dolly," said her father. "You could not
+pass that?"
+
+"And Pompeii--don't you want to see Pompeii?" cried Rupert.
+
+"It will be pleasanter at Sorrento later in the season," said Lawrence;
+"much pleasanter. Wait till it grows warm here; then Sorrento will be
+delightful. We are taking everything just at the right time."
+
+"And it is as beautiful here as you can find anything," added Mr.
+Copley. "You want to look at the bay of Naples, now you have the
+chance."
+
+Yes, said Dolly to herself, and they say the wines are good at Naples
+too! But she gave up the question. They established themselves in a
+hotel.
+
+"For how long, I wonder?" said Mrs. Copley to Dolly when they were
+alone. "It seems as if I wasn't going to get to Sorrento. I don't know
+what I expect there, either, I am sure; only we set out to go to
+Sorrento for my health; and here we are in Naples after five months of
+wandering and lounging about! and here we are going to stay, it seems."
+
+"The wandering and lounging about was very good for you, mother, dear.
+You are a great deal improved in your looks."
+
+"I wish I was in my feelings."
+
+"You are, aren't you?"
+
+"What does your father want to do in Naples?"
+
+"I don't know. They all want to stay here a while, you see. And,
+mother, don't you enjoy this wonderful view?" For their windows
+commanded the bay.
+
+"I'd rather see Boston harbour, by half."
+
+"Oh, so would I!--on some accounts. But, mother, it is a great thing to
+see Naples."
+
+"So your father thinks. Men never do know what they want; only it is
+always something they haven't got."
+
+"We're in Naples, though, mother."
+
+"We shan't be long."
+
+"Well, we don't _want_ to be here long, mother."
+
+"I'd like to be still somewheres. Your father'd as lieve be anywhere
+else as at home; but I like to see my own fire burn. I don't know as I
+ever shall again. Unless you'll marry Mr. St. Leger, Dolly. That would
+bring all right, at one stroke." From which suggestion Dolly always
+escaped as fast as possible.
+
+It turned out that they were to stay a good while at Naples. Perhaps
+Mr. Copley feared the seclusion of a private house at Sorrento. However
+that were, he seemed to find motives to detain him where he was, and
+Lawrence St. Leger was nothing loth. The days went by, till Dolly
+herself grew impatient. They went very much after the former manner, as
+far as the gentlemen were concerned; Lawrence found society, and Mr.
+Copley too, naturally, took pleasure in meeting a good many people to
+whom he was known. What other pleasure he took in their company Dolly
+could but guess; with him things went on very much as they had done in
+Rome.
+
+With her, not. Dolly knew nobody, kept close by her mother, who
+eschewed all society, and so of course had no likenesses to paint. She
+worked busily at the other sort of painting which had engaged her in
+Venice; made lovely little pictures of Naples; rather of bits of
+Naples; characteristic bits; which were done with so much truth and
+grace that Rupert without difficulty disposed of them to the fancy
+dealers. The time of photographs was not yet; and Dolly made money
+steadily. She enjoyed this work greatly. Her other pleasures were found
+in walks about the city, and in visits to the museum. There was not in
+Naples the wealth of art objects which had been so inexhaustible in
+Rome; nevertheless, the museum furnished an interest all its own; and
+Dolly went there day after day. Indeed, the interest grew; and objects
+which at her first going she passed carelessly by, at the fourth or
+fifth she began to study with intent interest. The small bronzes found
+at Pompeii were pored over by her and Rupert till they almost knew the
+several pieces by heart, and had constructed over them a whole system
+of the ways of private life in those old days when they were made and
+used. Dolly often managed to persuade her father to be her escort when
+she went to the museum; and Mr. Copley would go patiently, for Dolly's
+sake, seeing the extreme delight it afforded her; but Mr. Copley was
+not always to be had, and then Dolly chose certain parts of the
+collection which she and Rupert could study together. So they gave a
+great deal of time to the collection of coins; not at first, but by
+degrees drawn on. So with the famous collection of antique bronzes.
+Rupert looked on these in the beginning with a depreciating eye.
+
+"What's the fun here? I don't get at it," he remarked.
+
+"O Rupert! the beauty of the things."
+
+"They are what I call right homely. What a colour they have got. Is it
+damp, or what?"
+
+"Don't you know? these dark ones come from Herculaneum, and were locked
+up in lava; the others, the greenish ones, are from Pompeii, where the
+covering was lighter and they were exposed to damp, as you say."
+
+"Well, I suppose they are curious, being so ancient."
+
+"Rupert, they are most beautiful."
+
+But Rupert as well as Dolly found a mine of interest in the Greek and
+gladiatorial armour and weapons.
+
+"It makes my head turn!" said Rupert.
+
+"What?"
+
+"Why, it is eighteen hundred years ago. To think that men lived and
+fought with those helmets and weapons and shields, so long back! and
+now here are the shields and helmets, but where are the men?"
+
+Dolly said nothing.
+
+"Do you think they are anywhere?"
+
+"Certainly!" said Dolly, turning upon him. "As certainly as they wore
+that armour once."
+
+"Where, then?"
+
+"I can't tell you that. The Bible and the ancients call it Hades--the
+place of departed spirits."
+
+"But here are their shields,--and folks come and look at them."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"It gives one a sort of queer feeling."
+
+"Yes," said Dolly. "One of those helmets may have belonged to a
+conqueror, and another may have been unclasped from a dead gladiator's
+head. And it don't matter much to either of them now."
+
+"It seems as if nothing in the world mattered much," said Rupert.
+
+"It don't!" said Dolly quickly. "'The world passeth away, and the lust
+thereof; but he that doeth the will of God abideth for ever.'"
+
+"You think such a one is better off than the rest?" said Rupert. "How?
+You say the rest are living somewhere."
+
+"Existing."
+
+"What's the difference?"
+
+"Just all the difference between light and darkness;--or between life
+and death. You would not call it living, if all joy and hope were gone
+out of existence; you would wish that existence could end."
+
+"How do you know all about it so well, Miss Dolly?" the young man asked
+a little incredulously.
+
+"Rupert, it begins in this world. I know a little of the difference
+now. I never was where all joy and hope were gone out of
+existence--though I have seen trouble," said Dolly gravely. "But I _do_
+know that nothing in this world is so good as the love of Christ; and
+that without Him life is not life."
+
+"People seem to have a good time without it," said Rupert.
+
+"For a little. How would they be, do you think, if all their pleasures
+were taken away?--their money, and all their money gets for them;
+friends and all?"
+
+"Wretched dogs," said Rupert.
+
+"But nobody in the world that loved Christ was ever that," Dolly said,
+smiling.
+
+There was in her smile something so tender and triumphant at once, that
+it silenced Rupert. It was a testimony quite beyond words. For that
+instant Dolly's spirit looked out of the transparent features, and the
+light went to Rupert's heart like an arrow. Dolly moved on, and he
+followed, not looking at the gladiators' shields or Greek armour.
+
+"Then, Miss Dolly," he burst out, after his thoughts had been seething
+a little while,--"if this world is so little count, what's the use of
+anything that men do? what's the good of studying--or of working--or of
+coming to look at these old things?--or of doing anything else, but
+just religion?"
+
+Dolly's eyes sparkled, but she laughed a little.
+
+"You cannot 'do' religion that way, Rupert," she said. "The old monks
+made a mistake. What is the use? Why, if you are going to be a servant
+of Christ and spend your life in working for Him, won't you be the very
+best and most beautiful servant you can? Do you think a savage has as
+much power or influence in the world as an educated, accomplished,
+refined man? Would he do as much, or do it as well? If you are going to
+give yourself to Christ, won't you make the offering as valuable and as
+honourable as you can? That is what you would do if you were giving
+yourself to a woman, Rupert. I know you would."
+
+Rupert had no chance to answer, for strangers drew near, and Dolly and
+he passed on. Perhaps he did not wish to answer.
+
+There were other times when Dolly visited the museum with her father.
+Then she studied the frescoes from Pompeii, the marble sculptures, or
+sat before some few of the pictures in the collections of the old
+masters. Mr. Copley was patient, admiring her if he admired nothing
+else; but even he did admire and enjoy some of the works of art in
+which the museum is so rich; and one day he and Dolly had a rare bit of
+talk over the collection of ancient glass. Such hours made Dolly only
+the more grieved and distressed when she afterwards perceived that her
+father had been solacing himself with other and very much lower
+pleasures.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+SORRENTO.
+
+It was not till the end of May that they got away from Naples. Mrs.
+Copley was long tired of her stay there, and even, she said, tired of
+the bay! Dolly was glad to have her father at a distance from hotels
+and acquaintances, even though but for a time; and the gentlemen liked
+moving, as men always do. So the little party in the carriage were in
+very good spirits and harmony. Rupert had gone on before with the
+luggage, to make sure that all was right about the rooms and everything
+ready. They were engaged in the house to which Lady Brierley's
+housekeeper had given them the address.
+
+The day was one of those which travellers tell us of in the south of
+Italy, when spring is in its glory or passing into summer. In truth,
+the weather was very warm; but Dolly at least never regarded that, in
+her delight at the views presented to her. After Castellamare was
+passed, and as the afternoon wore on, her interest grew with every
+step. Villages and towns, rocks and trees, were steeped in a wonderful
+golden light; vineyards and olive groves were etherialised; and when
+they drew near to Meta, and the plain of Sorrento opened before them,
+Dolly hung out of the carriage almost breathless.
+
+"Is it better than the bay of Naples?" asked Lawrence, smiling.
+
+"I am not comparing," said Dolly. "But look at the trees! Did you ever
+see such beautiful woods?"
+
+"Hardly woods, are they?" said Lawrence. "There's variety, certainly."
+
+"Said to be a very healthy place," remarked Mr. Copley. "I envy you,
+Dolly. You can get pleasure out of a stick, if it has leaves on it.
+Naturally, the plain of Sorrento---- But this sun, I confess, makes me
+wish for the journey's end."
+
+"That is not far off, father. Yonder is Sorrento."
+
+And soon the carriage rolled into the town, and turning then aside
+brought them to a house on the outskirts of the place, situated on a
+rocky cliff overhanging the shore of the sea. Rupert met them at the
+gate, and announced a neat house, civil people, comfortable lodgings,
+and dinner getting ready.
+
+"I only hope they will not give us maccaroni with tomatoes," said Mrs.
+Copley. "I am so tired of seeing maccaroni with tomatoes."
+
+"Don't mind for to-day, mother, dear," said Dolly. "We'll have it all
+right to-morrow."
+
+The rooms were found so pleasant, bright and clean, that even Mrs.
+Copley was satisfied. The dinner, which was ready for them as soon as
+they were ready for it, proved also excellent; with plenty of fresh
+vegetables and fruit. Till the meal was over, Dolly had scarce a chance
+to see where she was; but then she left the others at the table and
+went out at the open glass door upon a piazza which extended all along
+the sea front of the house. Here she stood still and cried to the
+others to follow her. The house was built, as I said, like many houses
+in Sorrento, on the edge of a rocky cliff, from which there was fair,
+unhindered view over the whole panorama of sea and land. The sun was
+descending the western sky, and the flood of Italian light seemed to
+transfigure the world. Between the verandah and the absolute edge of
+the rocks, the space was filled with beds of flowers and shrubbery; and
+a little a one side, so as not to interrupt the view, were fig-trees
+and pomegranate-trees and olives. Dolly ran down the steps into the
+garden, and the rest of the party could not but come after her. Dolly's
+face was flushed with delight.
+
+"Did anybody ever see such colours before?" she cried. "Oh, the
+colours! Look at the blue of the water, down there in the shade; and
+then see that delicious green beyond, set off by its fringe of white
+foam; and then where the sun strikes, and where the clouds are
+reflected."
+
+"It is just what you have been seeing in the bay of Naples," said Mrs.
+Copley.
+
+"And Vesuvius, mother! Do look at Vesuvius; how noble it is from here,
+and in this light."
+
+"We had Vesuvius at Naples too," said Mrs. Copley. "It is a wonder to
+me how people can be so fond of being near it, when you never know what
+tricks it will play you."
+
+"Mother, dear, the lava _never_ comes so far as this, in the worst
+eruptions."
+
+"The fact that it never did does not prove what it may do some time."
+
+"You are not afraid of it, surely?" said Mr. Copley.
+
+"No," said his wife. "But I have no pleasure in looking at anything
+that has done, and is going to do, so much mischief. It seems to me a
+kind of monster."
+
+"You cannot be fond of the sea, at that rate, Mrs. Copley," Lawrence
+observed.
+
+"No, you are right," she said. "The only thing I like about it is, that
+it is the way home."
+
+"You don't want to see the way home just now, my dear," said Mr.
+Copley. "You have but now got to the place of your desires."
+
+"If you ask me what that is, it is Boston," said Mrs. Copley.
+
+But, however, for a while she did take satisfaction in the quiet and
+beauty and sweet air of Sorrento. Dolly revelled in it all. She was
+devoted to her mother and her mother's pleasure, it is true; and here
+as at Rome and Naples she was thus kept a good deal in the house.
+Nevertheless, here, at Sorrento, she tempted her mother to go out. A
+little carriage was procured to take her to the edge of one of the
+ravines which on three sides enclose the town; and then Dolly and her
+mother, with Rupert's help, would wind their way down amid the
+wilderness of lovely vegetation with which the sides and bottom of the
+ravine were grown. At the bottom of the dell they would provide Mrs.
+Copley with a soft bed of moss or a convenient stone to rest upon;
+while the younger people roved all about, gathering flowers, or finding
+something for Dolly to sketch, and coming back ever and anon to Mrs.
+Copley to show what they had found or tell what they had seen; and Mrs.
+Copley for the time forgot her ills, and even forgot Boston, and was
+amused, and enjoyed the warm air and the luxuriant and sweet nature of
+Italy. Sometimes Lawrence came instead of Rupert; and Dolly did not
+enjoy herself so well. But Lawrence was at his own risk now; she could
+not take care of him. Except by maintaining her calm, careless,
+disengaged manner; and that she did. There were other times when Dolly
+and Rupert went out in a boat on the sea. Steps in the rock led
+immediately down from the garden to the shore; on the shore were
+fishermen's huts, and a boat was always to be had. Long expeditions by
+water could not be undertaken, for Mrs. Copley could not be tempted out
+on the sea, and she might not be long left alone; but there were lovely
+hours, when Rupert rowed the boat over the golden and purple waves,
+when all the air seemed rosy and all the sea enamelled, and the sky and
+the clouds (as Rupert said) were as if they had come out of a fairy
+book; every colour was floating there and sending down a paradise of
+broken rainbows upon water and land and the heads of the two
+pleasure-takers.
+
+But even at Sorrento there was a shadow over Dolly.
+
+For the first weeks the gentlemen, that is, Mr. Copley and his supposed
+secretary, made numerous excursions. Mrs. Copley utterly declined to
+take part in anything that could be called an excursion; and Dolly
+would not go without her. Lawrence and Mr. Copley therefore went
+whither they would alone, and saw everything that could be seen within
+two or three days of Sorrento; for they were gone sometimes as long as
+that. They took provisions with them; and Dolly sadly feared, nay, she
+knew, that wines formed a large part of their travelling stock on these
+occasions; she feared, even, no small part of the attraction of them.
+Mr. Copley generally came back not exactly the same as when he went;
+there was an indescribable look and air which made Dolly's heart turn
+cold; a disreputable air of license, as if he had been indulging
+himself in spite of strong pledges given, and in disregard of gentle
+influences that were trying to deter him. And when he had not been on
+excursions, Dolly often knew that he had found his favourite beverage
+somewhere and was a trifle the worse for it. What could she do? she
+asked herself with a feeling almost of desperation. She had done all
+she knew; what remained? Her father was well aware how she felt. Yet
+no! not that. He could not have the faintest conception of the torture
+he gave his daughter by making her ashamed of him, nor of the fearful
+dread which lay upon her of what his habit of indulgence might end in.
+If he _had_, Mr. Copley could not, at this stage of things at least,
+have borne it. He must have yielded up anything or borne anything,
+rather than that she should bear this. But he was a man, and could not
+guess it; if he had been told, he would not have understood it; so he
+had his pleasure, and his child's heart was torn with sorrow and shame.
+
+There came a day at last when in their lodgings Mr. Copley called for a
+bottle of wine at dinner. Dolly's heart gave a great jump.
+
+"O father, we do not want wine!" she cried pleadingly.
+
+"I do," said Mr. Copley, "and St. Leger does. Nonsense, my dear! no
+gentleman takes his dinner without his wine. Isn't it so, Lawrence?"
+
+And the wine was brought, and the two gentlemen helped themselves. Mrs.
+Copley accepted a little; Rupert,--Dolly looked to see what he would
+do,--Rupert quietly put it by.
+
+So it had come to this again. Not all her prayers and tears and known
+wishes could hold her father back from his desire. The desire must
+already be very strong! Dolly kept her composure with difficulty. She
+ate no more dinner. And it was a relief to thoughts she could scarcely
+bear, when Rupert in the evening asked her to go out and take a row on
+the water.
+
+Such an evening as it was! Dolly ran gladly down the rocky steps which
+led to the shore, and eagerly followed Rupert into the boat. She
+thought to escape from her trouble for a while. Instead of that, when
+the boat got away from the shore, and Dolly was floating on the crimson
+and purple sea, with a flush of crimson and purple sent down upon her
+from the clouds, and everything in the world glowing with colour or
+tipped with gold,--her face as she gazed into the glory took such an
+expression of wan despair, that Rupert forgot where he was. Greatly he
+longed to say something to break up that look; and could not find the
+words. The beauty and the peace of the external world wrought, as it
+sometimes does, by the power of contrast; and had set Dolly to thinking
+of her father and of his and her very doubtful future. What would
+become of him if his present manner of life went on?--and what would
+become of his wife and of her? What could she do, more than she had
+done, in vain? Dolly tried to think, and could not find. Suddenly, by
+some sweet association of rays of light, there came into her mind the
+night before Christmas, and the moonshine in Christina's room, and the
+words that were so good to her then. "Who shall separate us from the
+love of Christ?" Yes, thought Dolly,--that is sure. Nothing can come
+between. Nothing can take _that_ joy from me; "neither death nor life;
+nor things present, nor things to come." But, oh! I wish my father and
+mother had it too!--With that came a rush of tears to her eyes; she
+turned her face away from Rupert so that he might not see them. Had she
+done anything, made any efforts, to bring them to that knowledge? With
+her mother, yes; with her father, no. It had seemed hopelessly
+difficult. How could she set about it? As she pondered this question,
+Rupert saw that the expression of her face had changed, and now he
+ventured to speak.
+
+"Miss Dolly, you set me a thinking in Rome."
+
+"Did I?" said Dolly, brightening. "About what?"
+
+"And in Naples you drove the nail further in."
+
+"What nail? what are you talking about, Rupert?"
+
+"Do you remember what you said when we were coming from the Capitoline
+Museum? We were looking at the Colosseum."
+
+"I do not recollect."
+
+"I do. You drove the nail in then; and when we were in Naples, at the
+museum there, you gave it another hit. It's in now."
+
+Dolly could not help laughing.
+
+"You are quite a riddle, Rupert. I make nothing of it."
+
+"Miss Dolly, I've been thinking that I will go home."
+
+"Home?" And Dolly's face now grew very grave indeed.
+
+"Yes. I've been splitting my head thinking; and I've about made up my
+mind. I think I'll go home." Rupert was very serious too, and pulled
+the oars with a leisurely, mechanical stroke, which showed he was not
+thinking of _them_.
+
+"What home? London, do you mean?"
+
+"Well, not exactly. I should think not! No, I mean Boston, or Lynn
+rather. There's my old mother."
+
+"Oh!--your mother," said Dolly slowly. "And she is at Lynn. Is she
+_alone_ there?"
+
+"She's been alone ever since I left her; and I'm thinking that's what
+she hadn't ought to be."
+
+Dolly paused. The indication seemed to be, that Rupert was taking up
+the notion of duty; duty towards others as well as pleasure for
+himself; and a great throb of gladness came up in her heart, along with
+the sudden shadow of what was not gladness.
+
+"I think you are quite right, Rupert," she said soberly. "Then you are
+purposing to go back to Lynn to take care of her?"
+
+"I set out to see the world and to be something," Rupert went on,
+looking thoughtfully out to sea;--"and I've done one o' the two. I've
+seen the world. I don' know as I should ever be anything, if I staid in
+it. But your talk that day--those days--wouldn't go out of my head; and
+I thought I'd give it up, and go home to my old mother."
+
+"I'll tell you what I think, Rupert," said Dolly; "a man is a great
+deal more likely to come out right in the end and 'be something,' if he
+follows God's plan for him, than if he makes a plan for himself.
+Anyhow, I'd rather have that 'Well done,' by and by"---- She stopped.
+
+"How's a man to find out God's plan for him?"
+
+"Just the way you are doing. When work is set before you, take hold of
+it. When the Lord has some more for you He'll let you know."
+
+"Then you think this _is_ my work, Miss Dolly, to go home and take care
+of her? She wanted me to make a man of myself; and when Mr. Copley made
+me his offer, she didn't hold me back. But she cried some!"
+
+"You cannot do another so manly a thing as this, Rupert. I wouldn't let
+her cry any more, if I were you."
+
+"No more I ain't a-goin' to," said the young man energetically. "But,
+Miss Dolly"----
+
+"What?"
+
+"Do you think it is my duty, because I do one thing, to do t'other? Do
+you think I ought to take to shoemaking?"
+
+"Why to shoemaking, Rupert?"
+
+"Well, my father was a shoemaker. They're all shoemakers at Lynn,
+pretty much."
+
+"That is no reason why you should be. Your education, the education you
+have got since you came over to this side, has fitted you for something
+else, if you like something else better."
+
+"That's just what I do!" said Rupert with emphasis. "But I could make a
+good living that way--I was brought up to it, you see;--and I s'pose
+_she'd_ like me to take up the old business; but I feel like driving an
+awl through a board whenever I think of it."
+
+"I wouldn't do it, Rupert, if I could do something I was more fit for.
+People always do things best that they like to do. I think the choice
+of a business is your affair. Do what you can do best. But I'd make
+shoes rather than do nothing."
+
+"I don't know what I am fit for," said Rupert, evidently relieved,
+"but--oh yes, I would _cobble_ shoes rather than do nothing. I don't
+want to eat idle bread. Then I'll go."
+
+"Your experience here, in London and on this journey, will not have
+been lost to you," Dolly observed.
+
+"It's been the best thing ever happened to me, this journey," said the
+young man. "And you've done me more good, Miss Dolly, than anybody in
+this world,--if it ain't my mother."
+
+"I? I am very glad. I am sure you have done a great deal for me,
+Rupert."
+
+"You have put me upon thinking. And till a fellow begins to think, he
+ain't much more good than a cabbage."
+
+"When will you go, Rupert? I wish we were going too!"
+
+"Well, I guess my old mother has sat lookin' for me long enough. I
+guess I'll start pretty soon."
+
+"Will you?" said Dolly. "But not before we have made our visit to Mrs.
+Thayer's villa? We are going there next week."
+
+"I'll start then, I guess."
+
+"And not go with us to the Thayers'?"
+
+"I guess not."
+
+"Didn't they invite you?"
+
+"Not a bit of it! Took good care not, I should say."
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"Well, Miss Dolly, Mrs. Thayer was standing two feet from me and asking
+Mr. St. Leger, and she didn't look my way till she had got through and
+was talking of something else; and then she looked as if I had been a
+pane of glass and she was seeing something on the other side--as I
+suppose she was."
+
+Dolly was silent for a few minutes and then she said, "How I shall miss
+you, Rupert!"--and tears were near, though she would not let them come.
+
+And Rupert made no answer at all, but rowed the boat in.
+
+Yes, Dolly knew she would miss him sadly. He had been her helper and
+standby and agent and escort and friend, in many a place now, and on
+many an occasion. He had done for her what there was no one else to do,
+ever since that first evening when he had made his appearance at
+Brierley and she had wished him away. So little do people recognise
+their blessings often at first sight. Now,--Dolly pondered as she
+climbed the cliff,--how would she get along without Rupert? How long
+would her father even be content to abide with her mother and her in
+their quiet way of living? she had seen symptoms of restlessness
+already. What should she do if he became impatient? if he left them to
+St. Leger's care and went back to London? or if he carried them off
+with him perhaps? To London again! And then afresh came the former
+question, what was there in her power, that might draw her father to
+take deeper and truer views of life and duty than he was taking now? A
+question that greatly bothered Dolly; for there was dimly looming up in
+the distance an answer that she did not like. To attack her father in
+private on the subject of religion, was a step that Dolly thought very
+hopeless; he simply would not hear her. But there was another thing she
+could do--could she do it? Persuade her father and mother to consent to
+have family prayer? Dolly's heart beat and her breath came quick as she
+passed through the little garden, sweet with roses and oleander and
+orange blossoms. How sweet the flowers were! how heavenly fair the sky
+over her head! So it ought to be in people's hearts, thought Dolly;--so
+in mine. And if it were, I should not be afraid of anything that was
+right to do. And this _is_ right to do.
+
+Dolly avoided the saloon where the rest of the family were, and betook
+herself to her own room; to consider and to pray over her difficulties,
+and also to get rid of a few tears and bring her face into its usual
+cheerful order. When at last she went down, she found her mother alone,
+but her father almost immediately joined them. The windows were open
+towards the sea, the warm, delicious air stole in caressingly, the
+scent of roses and orange blossoms and carnations filled the house and
+seemed to fill the world; moonlight trembled on the leaves of the
+fig-tree, and sent lines of silver light into the room. The lamp was
+lowered and Mrs. Copley sat doing nothing, in a position of satisfied
+enjoyment by the window.
+
+As Dolly came in by one door, Mr. Copley entered by another, and flung
+himself down on a chair; his action speaking neither enjoyment nor
+satisfaction.
+
+"Well!" said he. "How much longer do you think you can stand this sort
+of thing?"
+
+"What sort of thing, father?"
+
+"Do you sit in the dark usually?"
+
+"Come here, father," said Dolly, "come to the window and see the
+moonshine on the sea. Do you call that dark?"
+
+"Your father never cared for moonshine, Dolly," said Mrs. Copley.
+
+"No, that's true," said Mr. Copley with a short laugh. "Haven't you got
+almost enough of it?"
+
+"Of moonshine, father?"
+
+"Yes--on the bay of Sorrento. It's a lazy place."
+
+"You have not been very lazy since you have been here," said his wife.
+
+"Well, I have seen all there is to be seen; and now I am ready for
+something else. Aren't you?"
+
+"But, father," said Dolly, "I suppose, just because Sorrento is what
+you call a lazy place it is good for mother."
+
+"Change is good for her too--hey, wife?"
+
+"You will have a change next week, father; you know we are going for
+that visit to the Thayers."
+
+"We shall not want to stay there long," said Mr. Copley; "and then
+we'll move."
+
+Nobody answered. Dolly looked out sorrowfully upon the beautiful bright
+water. Sorrento had been a place of peace to her. Must she go so soon?
+The scent of myrtles and roses and oranges came in bewilderingly at the
+open window, pleading the cause of "lazy" Sorrento with wonderfully
+persuasive flatteries. Was there any other place in the world so sweet?
+Dolly clung to it, in heart; yearned towards it; the glories of the
+southern sun were what she had never imagined, and she longed to stay
+to enjoy and wonder at them. The fruits, the flowers, the sunny air,
+the fulness and variedness of the colouring on land and sea, the
+leisure and luxury of bountiful nature,--Dolly was loath, loath to
+leave them all. No other Sorrento, she was ready to believe, would ever
+reveal itself to her vision; and she shrank a little from the somewhat
+rough way she had been travelling before and must travel again. And now
+in the further way, Rupert, her helper and standby, would not be with
+her. Then again came the words of Christmas Eve to her--"Who shall
+separate us from the love of Christ?"--and with the words came the
+recollection of the new bit of service Dolly had found to do in her
+return and answer to that love. Yet she hesitated, and her heart began
+to beat faster, and she made no move until her father began to ask if
+it were not time to leave the moonlight and go to bed. Dolly came from
+the window, then to the table where the lowered lamp stood.
+
+"Mother and father, I should like to do something," she said with an
+interrupted breath. "Would you mind--may I--will you let me read a
+chapter to you before we go?"
+
+"A chapter of what?" said her father; though he knew well enough.
+
+"The Bible."
+
+There was a pause. Mrs. Copley stirred uneasily, but left the answer
+for her husband to give. It came at last, coldly.
+
+"There is no need for you to give yourself that trouble, my dear. I
+suppose we can all read the Bible for ourselves."
+
+"But not as a family, father?"
+
+"What do you mean, Dolly?"
+
+"Father, don't you think we ought together, as a family,--don't you
+think we ought to read the Bible together? It concerns us all."
+
+"It's very kind of you, my daughter; but I approve of everybody
+managing his own affairs," Mr. Copley said, as he rose and lounged,
+perhaps with affected carelessness, out of the room. Dolly stood a
+moment.
+
+"May I read to you, mother?"
+
+"If you like," said Mrs. Copley nervously; "though I don't see, as your
+father says, why we cannot every one read for ourselves. Why did you
+say that to your father, Dolly? He didn't like it."
+
+Dolly made no reply. She knelt down by the low table to bring her Bible
+near the light, and read a psalm, her voice quivering a little. She
+wanted comfort for herself, and half unconsciously she chose the
+twenty-seventh psalm.
+
+"'The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord
+is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?'"
+
+Her voice grew steady as she went on; but when she has finished, her
+mother was crying.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+AT THE VILLA.
+
+The place inhabited by the Thayers was a regular Italian villa. It had
+not been at all in order that suited English notions of comfort, or
+American either, when they moved in; but they had painted and matted
+and furnished, and filled the rooms with pretty things, pictures and
+statues and vases and flowers; till it looked now quite beautiful and
+festive. Its situation was perfect. The house stood high, on the shore
+overlooking the sea, with a full view of Vesuvius, and it was
+surrounded with a paradise of orange-trees, fig-trees, pomegranates,
+olives, oaks and oleanders, with roses and a multitude of other
+flowers; in a wealth of sweetness and luxuriance of growth that
+northern climes know nothing of. The reception the visitors met with
+was joyous.
+
+"I am so glad you are come!" cried Christina, as she carried off Dolly
+through the hall to her particular room. "That bad boy, Sandie, has not
+reported yet; but he will come; and then we will go everywhere. Have
+you been everywhere already?"
+
+"I have been nowhere. I have staid with mother, and she wanted to be
+quiet."
+
+"Well, she can be quiet now with my mother; they can take care of each
+other. And you have not been to Capri?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Just think of it! How delightful! You have not seen the Grotta
+azzurra?"
+
+"I have seen nothing."
+
+"Nor the grotto of the Sirens? You have seen _that?_ It was so near."
+
+"No, I have not. I have been nowhere; only with mother to gather ferns
+and flowers in the dells around Sorrento. We used to take mother in a
+donkey cart--a calessino--to the edge of the side of the dell, and then
+help her down, and get loads of flowers and ferns. It was very
+pleasant."
+
+"I wish Sandie would only come--the tiresome fellow! There's no
+counting on him. But he will come. He said he would if he could, and he
+can of course. I suppose you have not visited Paestum yet then?"
+
+"I believe father went there. We did not."
+
+"Nor we, yet. I don't care so much--only I like to keep going--but
+father is crazy to see the ruins. You know the ruins are wonderful. Do
+you care for ruins?"
+
+"I believe I do," said Dolly, smiling, "when the ruins are of something
+beautiful. And those Greek temples--oh, I _should_ like to see them."
+
+"I would rather see beautiful things when they are perfect; not in
+ruins; ruins are sad, don't you think so?"
+
+"I suppose they ought to be," said Dolly, laughing now. "But somehow,
+Christina, I believe the ruins give me more pleasure than if they were
+all new and perfect--or even old and perfect. It is a perverse taste, I
+suppose, but I do."
+
+"Why? They are not so handsome in ruins."
+
+"They are lovelier."
+
+"Lovely!--for old ruins! I can understand papa's enthusiasm; he's a
+kind of antiquity worshipper; but you--and 'lovely!'"
+
+"And interesting, Christina. Ruins tell of so much; they are such grand
+books of history, and witnesses for things gone by. But beautiful--oh
+yes, beautiful beyond all others, if you talk of buildings. What is St.
+Peter's, compared to the Colosseum?"
+
+Christina stared at her friend. "What is St. Peter's? A most
+magnificent work of modern art, I should say; and you compare it to a
+tumbledown old bit of barbarism. That's _too_ like Sandie. Do you and
+your friend agree as harmoniously as Sandie and I? We ought to
+exchange."
+
+"I have no 'friend,' as you express it," said Dolly, pulling her
+wayward, curling locks into a little more order. "Mr. St. Leger is
+nothing to me--if you are speaking of him."
+
+"I am sure, if he told the truth, he would not say that of you," said
+Christina, looking with secret admiration at the figure before her. It
+was a rare kind of beauty, not of the stereotyped or formal sort; like
+one of the dainty old vases of alabaster, elegant in form and delicate
+and exquisite in chiselling and design, with a pure inner light showing
+through. That was not the comparison in Christina's mind, and indeed
+she made none; but women's eyes are sometimes sharp to see feminine
+beauty; and she confessed that Dolly's was uncommon, not merely in
+degree but in kind. There was nothing conventional about it; there
+never had been; her curling hair took a wayward way of its own; her
+brown eyes had a look of thoughtfulness mingled with childlike
+innocence; they always had it more or less; now the wisdom was more
+sweet and the innocence more spiritual. Her figure and her manner were
+all in harmony, wearing unconscious grace and a very simple, free
+dignity.
+
+"We cannot go to Paestum at this season of the year, they say,"
+Christina began again, at a distance from her thoughts; "but one _can_
+go to the Punta di Campanella and Monte San Costanzo; and as soon as
+Sandie comes, we will. We will wait a day for him first."
+
+Dolly was quite willing to wait for him; for, to tell the truth, one of
+her pleasures in the thought of this visit had been the possibility of
+seeing Mr. Shubrick again. She did not say so, however; and the two
+girls presently went back to the hall. This was a luxurious apartment,
+occupying the centre of the house; octagonal, and open to the outer
+world both at front and back. Warm and yet fresh air was playing
+through it; the odours of flowers filled it; the most commodious of
+light chairs and settees furnished it; and scattered about the wide,
+delicious space were the various members of the party. Mrs. Thayer and
+Mrs. Copley had been sitting together; just now, as the girls entered,
+Mrs. Thayer called St. Leger to her.
+
+"I am delighted to see you here, Mr. St. Leger," she said graciously.
+"You know your father was a very old friend of mine."
+
+"That gives me a sort of claim to your present kindness," said St.
+Leger.
+
+"You might put in a claim to kindness anywhere," returned the lady.
+"Don't you get it, now, if you tell the truth?"
+
+"I have no reason to complain--in general," said the young man, smiling.
+
+"You are a little like your father. He was another. We were great
+cronies when I was a girl. In fact, he was an old beau of mine. We used
+to see a vast deal of each other;--flirting, I suppose you would call
+it; but how are young people to get along without flirting? I liked him
+very much, for I always had a fancy for handsome men; and if you ask
+him, he will tell you that I was handsome too at that time. Oh, I was!
+you may look at me and be incredulous; but I was a belle in those days;
+and I had a great many handsome men around me, and some not handsome.
+....Was I English? No. You don't understand how I could have seen so
+much of your father. Well, never doubt a story till you have heard the
+whole of it. I was an American girl; but my father and mother were both
+dead, and I was sent to England, to be brought up by an aunt, who was
+the nearest relation I had in the world. She had married an Englishman
+and settled in England."
+
+"Then we may claim you," said Lawrence. "To all intents and purposes
+you are English."
+
+"Might have been," returned Mrs. Thayer. "The flirtation ran very high,
+I can tell you, between your father and me. He was a poor man then. I
+understand he has nobly recovered from that fault. Is it true? People
+say he is made of gold."
+
+"There is no lack of the material article," Lawrence admitted.
+
+"No. Well, the other sort we know he had, or this would never be true
+of him now. I did not look so far ahead then. There is no telling what
+would have happened, but for a little thing. Just see how things go. I
+might have married in England, and all my life would have been
+different; and then came along Mr. Thayer. And the way I came to know
+him was this. A cousin of mine in America was going to be married, and
+her friend was a friend of Mr. Thayer. Mr. Thayer was coming over to
+England, and my cousin charged him with a little piece of wedding cake
+in white paper to bring to me. Just that little white packet! and Mr.
+Thayer brought it, and we saw one another, and the end was, I have
+lived my life on the other side instead of on this side."
+
+"It's our loss, I am sure," said St. Leger civilly.
+
+"You are too polite to say it is mine, but I know you think so. Perhaps
+it is. At any rate, I was determined, and am determined, that my
+daughter shall see and choose for herself which hemisphere she will
+live in. What are you doing in Italy?"
+
+"What everybody does in Italy, looking at the old and enjoying the new."
+
+"Ah, that's what it is!" said Mrs. Thayer approvingly. "That is what
+one enjoys. But my husband is one of the other sort. We divide Italy
+between us. He looks at the marbles, and I eat the pomegranates. Do you
+like pomegranates?--No? I delight in them, and in everything else fresh
+and new and sweet and acid. But what I want to know, Mr. St. Leger,
+is--how come these old ruins to be so worth looking at? Hasn't the
+human race made progress? Can't we raise as good buildings now-a-days,
+and as good to see, as those old heathen did?"
+
+"I suppose we can, when we copy their work exactly."
+
+"But how is that? Christians ought to do better work than heathens. I
+do not understand it."
+
+"No," said St. Leger, "I do not understand it."
+
+"Old poetry--that's what they study so much at Oxford and Cambridge,
+and everywhere else;--and old pictures, and old statues. I think the
+world ought to grow wiser as it grows older. I believe it is prejudice.
+There's my husband crazy to go to Paesturn,--I'm glad he can't; the
+marshes or something are so unhealthy; but I'm going to arrange for you
+an expedition to the Punta--Punta di something--the toe of the boot,
+you know; it's delightful; you go on donkeys, and you have the most
+charming views, and what I know you like better than anything,--the
+most charming opportunities for flirtation."
+
+"It will have to be Miss Thayer and I then," said Lawrence. "Miss
+Copley does not know how."
+
+"Nonsense! Don't tell me. Every girl does. She has her own way, I
+suppose. Makes it more piquant--and _piquing_."
+
+Lawrence looked over towards the innocent face, so innocent of anything
+false, he knew, or even of anything ambiguous; a face of pure womanly
+nature, childlike in its naturalness, although womanly in its gravity.
+Perhaps he drew a swift comparison between a man's chances with a face
+of that sort, and the counter advantages of Christina's more
+conventional beauty. Mr. Thayer had sat down beside Dolly and was
+drawing her into talk.
+
+"You are fond of art, Miss Copley. I remember we met you first in the
+room of the dying gladiator, in the Capitoline Museum. But everybody
+has to go to see the dying gladiator and the rest."
+
+"I suppose so," said Dolly.
+
+"I remember, though, I thought you were enjoying it."
+
+"Oh, I was."
+
+"I can always find out whether people really enjoy things. How many
+times did you go to see the gladiator? Let me see,--you were in Rome
+three months?"
+
+"Nearer four."
+
+"Four! Well, and how many times did you see the gladiator?"
+
+"I don't quite know. Half a dozen times, I think. I went until I had
+got it by heart; and now I can look at it whenever I like."
+
+"Humph!" said Mr. Thayer. "The only thing Christina wanted to see a
+second time was the mosaics; and those she did not get by heart
+exactly, but brought them away, a good many of them, bodily. And have
+you developed any taste for architecture during your travels?"
+
+"I take great pleasure in some architecture," said Dolly.
+
+"May I ask what instances? I am curious to see how our tastes
+harmonise."
+
+"Ah, but I know nothing about it," said Dolly. "I am entirely--or
+almost entirely--ignorant; and you know and understand."
+
+"'Almost entirely?'" said Mr. Thayer. "You have studied the subject?"
+
+"A little," said Dolly, smiling and blushing.
+
+"Do favour me. I am desirous to know what you have seen that
+particularly pleased you."
+
+"The cathedral at Limburg."
+
+"Limburg. Oh--ah! yes, it was _there_ we first met you. I was thinking
+it was in the museum of the Capitol. Limburg. You liked that?"
+
+"Very much!"
+
+"Romanesque--or rather Transition."
+
+"I do not know what Romanesque is, or Transition either."
+
+"Did you notice the round arches and the pointed arches?"
+
+"I do not remember. Yes, I do remember the round arches; but I was
+thinking rather of the effect of the whole."
+
+"The church at Limburg shows a mixture of the round Romanesque and the
+pointed Gothic; Gothic was preparing; that sort of thing belongs to the
+first half of the thirteenth century. Well, that bespeaks very good
+taste. What next would you mention, Miss Dolly?"
+
+"I don't know; I have enjoyed so many things. Perhaps I should say the
+Doge's palace at Venice."
+
+"Ha! the Doge's palace, hey? You like the pink and white marble."
+
+"Don't you, Mr. Thayer?"
+
+"That's not what one looks for in architecture. What do you say to St.
+Peter's?"
+
+"You will find a great deal of fault with me. I did not care for it."
+
+"Not? It is Michael Angelo's work."
+
+"But knowing the artist is no reason for admiring the work," said
+Dolly, smiling.
+
+"You are very independent! St. Peter's! Not to admire St. Peter's!"
+
+"I admired the magnificence, and the power, and a great many things;
+but I did not like the building. Not nearly so much as some others."
+
+"Now I wish we could go to Paestum, and see what you would say to pure
+old Greek work. But it would be as much as our lives are worth, I
+suppose."
+
+"Yes, Mr. Thayer," his wife cried; "don't talk about Paestum; they are
+going to-morrow to the point."
+
+"The point? what point? the coast is full of points."
+
+"The Punta di Campanella, papa," said Christina.
+
+"I thought you were going to Capri?"
+
+"We'll keep Capri till Sandie comes. He would be a help on the water.
+All our marine excursions we will keep until Sandie comes. I only hope
+he'll be good and come."
+
+The very air seemed full of pleasant anticipations; and Dolly would
+have been extremely happy; was happy; until on going in to dinner she
+saw the wineglasses on the table, and bottles suspiciously cooling in
+water. Her heart sank down, down. If she had had time and had dared,
+she would have remonstrated; but yet what could she say? She knew, too,
+that the wine at Mr. Thayer's table, like everything else on it, would
+be of the best procurable; better and more alluring than her father
+could get elsewhere. In her secret heart there was a bitter unspoken
+cry of remonstrance. O friends! O friends!--she was ready to say,--do
+you know what you are doing? You are dropping sweet poison into my
+life; bitter poison; deadly poison, where you little think it; and you
+do it with smiles and coloured glasses! She could hardly eat her
+dinner. She saw with indescribable pain and a sort of powerless
+despair, how Mr. Copley felt the license of his friend's house and
+example, and how the delicacy of the vintages offered him acted to dull
+his conscience; Mr. Thayer praising them and hospitably pressing his
+guest to partake. He himself drank very moderately and in a kind of
+mere matter-of-fact way; it was part of the dinner routine; and St.
+Leger tasted, as a man who knows indeed what is good, but also makes it
+a matter of no moment; no more than his bread or his napkin. Mr. Copley
+drank with eager gusto, and glass after glass; even, Dolly thought, in
+a kind of bravado. And this would go on every day while their visit
+lasted; and perhaps not at dinner only; there were luncheons, and for
+aught she knew, suppers. Dolly's heart was hot within her; so hot that
+after dinner she could not keep herself from speaking on the subject to
+Christina. Yet she must begin as far from her father as possible. The
+two girls were sitting on the bank under a fig-tree, looking out on the
+wonderful spectacle of the bay of Naples at evening.
+
+"There is a matter I have been thinking a great deal about lately," she
+said, with a little heartbeat at her daring.
+
+"I daresay," laughed Christina. "That is quite in your way. Oh, I do
+wish Sandie would come! He _ought_ to be here."
+
+"This is no laughing matter, Christina. It is a serious question."
+
+"You are never anything but serious, are you?" said her friend. "If you
+have a fault, it is that, Dolly. You don't laugh enough."
+
+Dolly was silent and swallowed her answer; for what did Christina know
+about it? _She_ had not to watch over her father; her father watched
+over her. Presently she began again; her voice had a little strain in
+its tone.
+
+"This is something for you and me to consider; for you and me, and
+other women who can do anything. Christina, did you ever think about
+the use of wine?"
+
+"Wine?" echoed Miss Thayer, a good deal mystified. "The use of it? I
+don't know any use of it, except to give people, gentlemen, something
+to talk of at dinner. Oh, it is good in sickness, I suppose. What are
+you thinking of?"
+
+"I am thinking of the harm it does," said Dolly in a low voice.
+
+"Harm? What harm? You are not one of those absurd people I have heard
+of, who cut down their apple-trees for fear the apples will be made
+into cider?"
+
+"I have no apple-trees to cut down," said Dolly. "But don't you know,
+Christina, that there is such a thing as drinking too much wine? and
+what comes of it?"
+
+"Not among our sort of people," said Christina. "I know there are such
+things as drunkards; but they are in the lower classes, who drink
+whisky and gin. Not among gentlemen."
+
+Dolly choked, and turned her face away to hide the eyes full of tears.
+
+"Too much wine?" Christina repeated. "One may have too much of
+anything. Too much fire will burn up your house; yet fire is a good
+thing."
+
+"That's only burning up your house," said Dolly sorrowfully.
+
+"_Only_ burning up your house! Dolly Copley, what are you thinking of?"
+
+"I am thinking of something infinitely worse. I am thinking of a man
+losing his manhood; of families losing their stay and their joy,
+because the father, or the husband, or the brother, has lost
+himself!--gone down below his standing as an intellectual
+creature;--become a mere animal, given up to low pleasures which make
+him sink lower and lower in the scale of humanity. I am thinking of
+_his_ loss and of _their_ loss, Christina. I am thinking of the
+dreadfulness of being ashamed of the dearest thing you have, and the
+way hearts break under it. And don't you know that when the love of
+wine and the like gets hold of a person, it is stronger than he is? It
+makes a slave of him, so that he cannot help himself."
+
+Christina's thoughts made a rapid flight over all the persons for whom
+Dolly could possibly fear such a fate, or in whom she could possibly
+have seen such an example. But Mr. St. Leger had the clear, fresh
+colour of perfect health and condition; Mr. Copley loved wine
+evidently, but drank it like a gentleman, and gave, to her eyes, no
+sign of being enslaved. What could Dolly be thinking of? Her mother was
+out of the question.
+
+"I don't make out what you are at, Dolly," she said. "Such things do
+not happen in our class of society."
+
+"Yes, they do. They happen in every class. And the highest ought to set
+an example to the lowest."
+
+"No use if they did. Anyhow, Dolly, it is nothing you and I can meddle
+with."
+
+"I think we ought not to have wine on our tables."
+
+"Mercy! Everybody does that."
+
+"It is offering temptation."
+
+"To whom? Our friends are not that sort of people."
+
+"How do you know but they may be? How can you tell but the taste or the
+tendency may be where you least think of it?"
+
+"You don't mean that Mr. St. Leger has anything of that sort?" said
+Christina, facing round upon her.
+
+"No more than other people, so far as I know. I am speaking in general,
+Christina. The thing is in the world; and we, I do think, we whose
+example would influence people,--I suppose everybody's example
+influences somebody else--I think we ought to do what we can."
+
+"And not have wine on our dinner-tables!"
+
+"Would that be so very dreadful?"
+
+"It would be very inconvenient, I can tell you, and very disagreeable.
+Fancy! no wine on the table. No one could understand it. And how our
+dinner-tables would look, Dolly, with the wine-glasses and the
+decanters taken off! And then, what would people talk about? Wine is
+such a help in getting through with a dinner-party. People who do not
+know anything else, and cannot talk of anything else, can taste wine;
+and have plenty to say about its colour, and its _bouquet_, and its
+age, and its growth, and its manufacture, and where it can be got
+genuine, and how it can be adulterated. And so one gets through with
+the dinner quite comfortably."
+
+"I should not want to see people who knew no more than that," said
+Dolly.
+
+"Oh, but you must."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"And it does not do to be unfashionable."
+
+"Why, Christina! Do you recollect what is said in the epistle of
+John--'The world knoweth us not'? I do not see how a Christian _can_ be
+fashionable. To be fashionable, one must follow the ways of the world."
+
+"Well, we must follow some of them," cried Christina, flaring up, "or
+people will not have anything to do with you."
+
+"That's what Christ said,--'Because ye are not of the world, ...
+therefore the world hateth you.'"
+
+"Do you like to have people hate you?"
+
+"No; but rather that than have Jesus say I do not belong to Him."
+
+"Dolly," said Christina, "you are _very_ high-flown! That might just do
+for one of Sandie's speeches."
+
+"I am glad Mr. Shubrick is such a wise man."
+
+"He's just a bit too wise for me. You see, I am not so superior. I
+should like to take him down a peg. And I--will if he don't come soon."
+
+He did not come in time for the next day's pleasure-party; so the young
+ladies had only Mr. St. Leger and Mr. Thayer to accompany them. Mrs.
+Copley "went on no such tramps," she said; and Mrs. Thayer avowed she
+was tired of them. The expedition took all day, for they went early and
+came back late, to avoid the central heat of midday. It was an
+extremely beautiful little journey; the road commanding a long series
+of magnificent views, almost from their first setting out. They went on
+donkeys, which was a favourite way with Dolly; at Massa they stopped
+for a cup of coffee; they climbed Monte San Costanzo; interviewed the
+hermit and enjoyed the prospect; and finally settled themselves for as
+pleasant a rest as possible among the myrtles on the solitary point of
+the coast. From here their eyes had a constant regale. The blue
+Mediterranean spread out before them, Capri in the middle distance, and
+the beauties of the shore nearer by, were an endless entertainment for
+Dolly. Christina declared she had seen it all before; Mr. Thayer found
+nothing worthy of much attention unless it had antiquities to be
+examined; and the fourth member of the party was somewhat too busy with
+human and social interests to leave his attention free.
+
+Mr. St. Leger had been now for a long time very unobtrusive in his
+attentions to Dolly, and Dolly partly hoped he had given her up; but
+that was a mistake. Perhaps he thought it was only a matter of time,
+for Dolly to get acquainted with him and accustomed to him; perhaps he
+thought himself sure of his game, if the fish had only line enough.
+Having the powerful support of Dolly's father and mother, all worldly
+interests on the side of his suit, a person and presence certainly
+unobjectionable, to say the least; how could a girl like Dolly, in the
+long run, remain unimpressed? He would give her time. Meanwhile, Mr.
+St. Leger was enjoying himself; seeing her daily and familiarly; he
+could wait comfortably. It would appear by all this that Lawrence was
+not an ardent man; but constitutions are different; there is an ardour
+of attack, and there is an ardour of persistence; and the latter, I
+think, belonged to him. Besides, he had sense enough to see that a too
+eager pressing of his cause with Dolly would ruin all. So he had
+waited, not discontentedly, and bided his time. Now, however, he began
+to think it desirable on many accounts to have the question decided.
+Mr. Copley would not stay much longer in Italy, Lawrence was certain,
+and the present way of life would come to an end; if his advantages
+were ever to bear fruit, it should be ripe now. Moreover, one or two
+other, and seemingly inconsistent, considerations came in. Lawrence
+admired Miss Thayer. Her beauty was even more striking, to his fancy,
+than Dolly's; if it were also more like other beauties he had seen. She
+had money too, and Dolly had none. Truly, Mr. St. Leger had enough of
+his own; but when did ever a man with enough not therefore desire more?
+He admired Christina very much; she suited him; if Dolly should prove
+after all obdurate, here was his chance for making himself amends.
+Cool! for an ardent lover; but Mr. St. Leger _was_ of a calm
+temperament, and these suggestions did come into his mind back of his
+liking for Dolly.
+
+This liking was strong upon him the day of the excursion to the Punta
+di Campanella. Of necessity he was Christina's special attendant, Mr.
+Thayer being Dolly's. Many girls would not have relished such an
+arrangement, Lawrence knew; his sisters would not. And Dolly was in an
+acme of delight. Lawrence watched her whenever they came near each
+other, and marvelled at the sweet, childish-womanish face. It was in a
+ripple of pleasure; the brown, considerate eyes were sparkling, roving
+with quick, watchful glances over everything, and losing as few as
+possible of the details of the way. Talking to Mr. Thayer now and then,
+Lawrence saw her, with the most innocent, sweet mouth in the world; her
+smile and that play of lip and eye bewitched him whenever he got a
+glimpse of it. The play of Christina's features was never so utterly
+free, so absent from thought of self, so artless in its fun. Now and
+then, too, there came the soft, low ring of a clear voice, in laughter
+or talking, bearing the same characteristics of a sweet spirit and a
+simple heart; and yet, when in repose, Dolly's face was strong in its
+sense and womanliness. The combination held Mr. St. Leger captive. I do
+not know how he carried on his needful attentions to his companion;
+with a mechanical necessity, I suppose; when all the while he was
+watching Dolly and contrasting the two girls. He was not such a fool as
+not to know which indications promised him the best wife; or if not
+him, the man who could get her. And he resolved, if a chance offered,
+he would speak to Dolly that very day. For here was Christina, if his
+other hope failed. He _was_ cool; nevertheless, he was in earnest.
+
+They had climbed up Monte San Costanzo and admired the view. They had
+rested, and enjoyed a capital lunch among the myrtles on the point. It
+was when they were on their way home in the afternoon, and not till
+then, that the opportunity presented itself which he had wished for. On
+the way home, the order of march was broken up. Christina sometimes
+dropped St. Leger to ride with her father; sometimes called Dolly to be
+her companion; and at last, declaring that she did not want Mr. St.
+Leger to have a sense of sameness about the day, she set off with her
+father ahead, begging Dolly to amuse the other gentleman.
+
+Which Dolly made not the least effort to do. The scenery was growing
+more lovely with every minute's lengthening shadows; and she rode
+along, giving all her attention to it, not making to Mr. St. Leger even
+the remarks she might have made to Mr. Thayer. The change of companions
+to her was not welcome. St. Leger found the burden of conversation must
+lie upon him.
+
+"We have not seen much of each other for a long time," he began.
+
+"Only two or three times a day," said Dolly.
+
+"And you think that is enough, perhaps!" said Lawrence hastily.
+
+"Don't you think more would have a tendency to produce what Christina
+calls a 'sense of sameness'?" said Dolly, turning towards him a face
+all dimpled with fun.
+
+"That is according to circumstances. The idea is not flattering. But,
+Miss Dolly," said Lawrence, pulling himself up, "in all this
+while--these months--that we have been travelling together, we have had
+time to learn to know each other pretty well. _You_ must have been able
+to make up your mind about me."
+
+"Which part of your character?"
+
+"Miss Dolly," said Lawrence with some heat, "you know what I mean."
+
+"Do I? But I did not know that I had to make up my mind about anything
+concerning you; I thought that was done long ago."
+
+"And you do not like me any better now than you did then?"
+
+"Perhaps I do," said Dolly slowly. "I always liked you, Mr. St. Leger,
+and I had cause. You have been a very kind friend to us."
+
+"For your sake, Dolly."
+
+"I am sorry for that," she said.
+
+"And I have waited all this time in the hope that you would get
+accustomed to me, and your objections would wear away. You know what
+your father and mother wish concerning us. Does their wish not weigh
+with you?"
+
+"No," said Dolly very quietly. "This is my affair, not theirs."
+
+"It is their affair so far as your interests are involved. And I do not
+wish to praise myself; but you know they think that those interests
+would be secured by a marriage with me. And I believe I could make you
+happy, Dolly."
+
+Dolly shook her head. "How could you?" she said. "We belong to two
+opposite parties, and are following two different lines of life. You
+would not like my way, and I should not like yours. How could either of
+us be happy?"
+
+"Even granting all that," said Lawrence, "why should you not bear with
+my peculiarities, and I with yours, and neither be the worse? That is
+very frequently done."
+
+"Is it? I do not think it ought to be done."
+
+"Let us prove that it can be. I will never interfere with you, Dolly."
+
+"Yes, you would," said Dolly, dimpling all over again. "Do you think
+you would make up your mind to have no wine in your cellar or on your
+table? Take that for one thing. I should have no wine on mine."
+
+"That's a crotchet of yours," said he, smiling at her: he thought if
+_this_ were all, the thing might be managed.
+
+"That is only one thing, Mr. St. Leger," Dolly went on very gravely
+now. "I should be unfashionable in a hundred ways, and you would not
+like that. I should spend money on objects and for causes that you
+would not care about nor agree to. I am telling you all this to
+reconcile you to doing without me."
+
+"Your refusal is absolute, then?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You would not bring up these extraneous things, Dolly, if you had any
+love for me."
+
+"I do not know why that should make any difference. It might make it
+hard."
+
+"Then you _have_ no love for me?"
+
+"I am afraid not," said Dolly gently. "Not what you mean. And without
+that, you would not wish for a different answer from me."
+
+"Yes, I would!" said he. "All that would come; but you know your own
+business best."
+
+Dolly thought she did, and the proposition remained uncontroverted.
+Therewith the discourse died; and the miles that remained were made in
+unsocial silence. Dolly feared she had given some pain, but doubted it
+could not be very great; and she was glad to have the explanation over.
+Perhaps the pain was more than she knew, although Lawrence certainly
+was not a desperate wooer; nevertheless, he was disappointed, and he
+was mortified, and mortification is hard to a man. For the matter of
+that, it is hard to anybody. It was not till the villa occupied by the
+Thayers was close before them that he spoke again.
+
+"Do you expect to stay much longer in Italy?"
+
+"I am afraid not," Dolly answered.
+
+"I have reason to think Mr. Copley will not. Indeed, I know as much. I
+thought you might like to be informed."
+
+Dolly said nothing. Her eyes roved over the beautiful bay, almost with
+an echo of Eve's "Must I then leave thee, Paradise?" in her heart. The
+smoke curling up from Vesuvius caught the light; little sails skimming
+over the sea reflected it; the sweetness of thousands of roses and
+orange blossoms, and countless other flowers, filled all the air; it
+was a time and a scene of nature's most abundant and beautiful bounty.
+Dolly checked her donkey, and for a few minutes stood looking; then
+with a brave determination that she would enjoy it all as much as she
+could while she had it, she went into the house.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+WHITHER NOW?
+
+The days that followed were full of pleasure; and Dolly kept to her
+resolution, not to spoil the present by care about the future. Indeed,
+the balmy air and the genial light and all the wealth that nature has
+bestowed upon southern Italy, were a help to such a resolution. The
+infinite lavish fulness of the present quite laughed at the idea of
+barrenness or want anywhere in time to come. Dolly knew that was
+nature's subtle flattery, not to be trusted, and yet she willingly
+admitted the flattery. Nothing should spoil these days.
+
+One evening she and Christina were sitting again on the bank, wondering
+at the marvellous sunset panorama.
+
+"How difficult it is, looking at this," said Dolly, "to believe that
+there is want and misery in the world."
+
+"Why should you believe it?" said Christina. "I don't think there is,
+except where people have brought it upon themselves."
+
+"People bring it upon other people. But to look at this, one would say
+it was impossible. And this is how the world was meant to be, I
+suppose."
+
+"What do you mean? how?" said Christina. "It is rich to hear you talk."
+
+"Oh, look at it, Christina! Look at the colours and the lights and the
+sparkle everywhere, the perfect wealth of loveliness in form as well as
+colour; and if you think a minute you will know that He who made it all
+meant people to be happy, and meant them to be as full of happiness as
+the earth is full of beauty."
+
+"I don't see 'lights' and 'colours' so much as you do, Dolly; I am not
+an artist; but if God meant them to be happy, why aren't they happy?"
+
+"Sin," said Dolly.
+
+"What's the use of thinking about it? You and I cannot help it."
+
+"Christina, that is not true. We can help some of it."
+
+"By giving money, you mean? Well, we do, whenever we see occasion; but
+there is no end of the cheatery."
+
+"Giving money will not take away the world's misery, Christina."
+
+"What will, then? It will do a good deal."
+
+"It will do a good deal, but it does not touch the root of the trouble."
+
+"What does, Dolly?--you dreamer."
+
+"The knowledge of Christ."
+
+"Well, it is the business of clergymen and missionaries to give them
+that."
+
+"Prove it."
+
+"Why, that's what they are for."
+
+"Do you think there are enough of them to preach the good news to every
+creature?"
+
+"Well, then, there ought to be more."
+
+"And in the meantime?--Tell me, Christina, to whom was that command
+given, to preach the gospel to every creature?"
+
+"To the apostles, of course!"
+
+"Twelve men? Or eleven men, rather. They could not. No, it was given to
+all the disciples; and so, Christina, it was given to you, and to me."
+
+"To preach the gospel!" said Christina.
+
+"That is, just to tell the good news."
+
+"And to whom do you propose we should tell it?"
+
+"The command says, everybody."
+
+"How can you and I do that, Dolly?"
+
+"That is just what I am studying, Christina. I do not quite know. But
+when I look out on all this wonderful beauty, and see what it means,
+and think how miserable the world is,--just the very opposite,--I feel
+that I must do it, somehow or other."
+
+Christina lifted her arms above her head and clapped her hands
+together. "Mad, mad!" she exclaimed--"you are just gone mad, Dolly. Oh,
+I wish you'd get married, and forget all your whimsies. The right sort
+of man would make you forget them. Haven't you found the right sort of
+man yet?"
+
+"The right sort of man would help me carry them out."
+
+"It must be my Sandie, then; there isn't another match for you in
+extravagant ideas in all this world. What does Mr. St. Leger think of
+them?"
+
+"I never asked him. I suppose he would take very much your view."
+
+"And you don't care what view he takes?" said Christina, looking
+sharply at her.
+
+"Not in the least. Except for his own sake."
+
+The one drawback upon the perfect felicity of this visit was, that the
+said Sandie did not appear. They could not wait for him; they went on
+the most charming of excursions, by sea and land, wishing for him; in
+which wish Dolly heartily shared. It had been one of the pleasures she
+had promised herself in coming to the Thayers' that she should see Mr.
+Shubrick again. He had interested her singularly, and even taken not a
+little hold of her fancy. So she was honestly disappointed when at last
+a note came from him, saying that he found it impossible to join the
+party.
+
+"That means just that he has something on hand that he calls
+'duty'--which anybody else would put off or hand over," said Christina,
+pouting.
+
+"Duty is a very good reason," said Dolly. "Don't you see, you are sure
+of Mr. Shubrick, that in any case he will not do what he thinks wrong?
+I think you ought to be a very happy woman, Christina."
+
+But the excursions were made without Mr. Shubrick's social or material
+help. They went to Capri; they visited the grottoes; nay, they made a
+party to go up Vesuvius. All that was to be seen, they saw; and, as
+Christina declared, they left nothing undone that they could do. Then
+came the breaking up.
+
+"Are you expecting to go back to that stuffy little place at Sorrento?"
+Mr. Copley asked. It was the evening before their departure, and all
+the party were sitting, scattered about upon the verandah.
+
+"Father!" cried Dolly. "It is the airiest, floweriest, sunniest,
+brightest, most delightful altogether house, that ever took lodgers in!"
+
+"It certainly wasn't stuffy, Mr. Copley," said his wife.
+
+"Dolly likes it because you couldn't get a glass of good wine in the
+house. Whatever the rest of humanity like, she makes war upon. I
+conclude you are reckoning upon going back there, my wife and daughter?"
+
+"Are not you, Mr. Copley?" his wife asked.
+
+"I must be excused."
+
+"Then where are you going?"
+
+"Home."
+
+"Home!" exclaimed Mrs. Copley. "Do you mean _home?_ Boston?"
+
+"A Boston woman thinks Boston is the centre of the universe, you may
+notice," said Mr. Copley, turning to Mr. Thayer. "It's a curious
+peculiarity. No matter what other cities on the face of the earth you
+show her, her soul turns back to Boston."
+
+"Don't say anything against Boston," said Mrs. Thayer; "it's a good
+little place. I know, when Mr. Thayer first carried me there, it took
+me a while to get accustomed to it;--things on a different scale, you
+know, and looked at from a different point of view; but I soon found
+admirers, and then friends. Oh, I assure you, Boston and I were very
+fond of each other in those days; and though I lost my claims to
+admiration a long time ago, I have kept my friends."
+
+"I have no doubt the admirers are still there too," said Mr. Copley.
+"Does Mrs. Thayer mean to say she has no admirers? I profess myself
+one!"
+
+"Christina takes the admiration now-a-days. I am contented with that."
+
+"And so you conquer by proxy."
+
+"Mr. Copley," here put in his wife, "if you do not mean America by
+'home,' what do you mean? and where are you going?"
+
+"Where my home has been for a number of years. England--London."
+
+"But you have given up your office?"
+
+"I am half sorry, that is a fact."
+
+"Then what should you do in London?"
+
+"My dear, of the many hundred thousands who call London their home,
+very few have an office."
+
+"But they have business of some kind?"
+
+"That is a Boston notion. Did you ever observe, Thayer, that a
+Massachusetts man has no idea of life without business? It is the
+reason why he is in the world, to him; it never occurs to him that
+_play_ might be occasionally useful. I declare! I believe they don't
+know the meaning of the word in America; it has dropped out, like a
+forgotten art."
+
+"But, father," Dolly spoke up now, "if you are going to London, mother
+and I cannot possibly go to Sorrento."
+
+"I don't quite see the logic of that."
+
+"Why, we cannot be here in Italy quite alone."
+
+"I'll leave you St. Leger to take care of you and bring you back; as he
+took you away."
+
+"I should be very happy to fall in with that plan," said Lawrence
+slowly; "but I fear I cannot make it out. I have been making
+arrangements to go into Greece, seeing that I am so near it. And I may
+quite possibly spend another winter in Rome."
+
+There was a pause, and when Mr. Copley spoke again there was another
+sound in his voice. It was not his will to betray it, but Dolly heard
+the chagrin and disappointment.
+
+"Well," said he, "such independent travellers as you two ladies can do
+pretty comfortably alone in that paragon of lodging-houses."
+
+"But not make the journey home alone, father."
+
+"When are you coming?"
+
+"When you do, of course," said his wife.
+
+Dolly knew it must be so and not otherwise. She sat still and
+down-hearted, looking abroad over the bay of Naples, over all the
+shores of which the moonlight was quivering or lying in still floods of
+calm beauty. From this, ay, and from everything that was like this, in
+either its fairness or its tranquillity, she must go. There had been a
+little lull in her cares since they came to Sorrento; the lull was
+over. Back to London!--And that meant, back to everything from which
+she had hoped to escape. How fondly she had hoped, once her father was
+away from the scene of his habits and temptations, he could be saved to
+himself and his family; and perhaps even lured back to America where he
+would be comparatively safe. Now where was that hope, or any other?
+Suddenly Dolly changed her place and sat down close beside Mr. Copley.
+
+"Father, I wish you would take us back to our real old home--back to
+Roxbury!"
+
+"Can't do it, my pet."
+
+"But, father, why not? What should keep you in England?"
+
+"Business."
+
+"Now that you are out of the office?"
+
+"Yes. Do you think all business is confined to the consuls' offices? A
+few other people have something to do."
+
+Dolly heard no tone of hope-giving in her father's words. She ceased
+and sat silent, leaning upon his knee as she was and looking off into
+the moonlight. Mrs. Thayer and Mr. St. Leger were carrying on a lively
+discourse about people and things unknown to her; Mr. Thayer was
+smoking; Mrs. Copley was silent and sorry and cast-down, like herself,
+she knew. Dolly's eye went roving through the moonlight as if it were
+never going to see moonlight again; and her heart was taking up the old
+question, and feeling it too heavy to carry, how should she save her
+father from his temptation? Under the pressure Dolly's heart felt very
+low; until again those words came and lifted her up,--"Who shall
+separate us from the love of Christ?" After that the sweet moonbeams
+seemed to be full of those words. I am _not_ alone, thought Dolly, I am
+_not_ forgotten; and He does not mean that I should be crushed, or
+hurt, by this arrangement of things, which I strove so to hinder. I
+will not be one of the "little faith" people. I will just trust the
+Lord--my Lord. What I cannot do, He can; and His ways are wonderful and
+past finding out.
+
+So she was quieted. And yet as she sat there it came over Dolly's mind,
+as things will, quite unbidden; it came over her to think how life
+would go on here, in Italy, with Christina, after she was gone. When
+the lovely Italian chapter of her own life was closed up and ended,
+when she would be far away out of sight of Vesuvius, in the fogs of
+London, the sun of Naples would still be shining on the Thayers' villa.
+They would go sailing on blue water, or floating over the gold and
+purple reflections which sometimes seemed to fill both water and air;
+they would see the white shafts of Paestum, yes, it would be soon cool
+enough for that; or if they must wait for Paestum, there were enough
+old monasteries and ruined castles and beauties of the like sort to
+keep them busy for many a day. Beauties which Dolly and Mr. Thayer
+loved. Nobody else in the house loved them. Christina had hardly an eye
+for them; and St. Leger, if he looked, did not care for what he saw.
+Nevertheless, they three would go picnicking through the wonderful old
+land, where every step was on monumental splendour or historical ashes,
+and the sights would be before them; whether they had eyes to see or
+no. For Dolly it was all done. She was glad she had had so much and
+enjoyed so much; and that enjoyment had given memory such a treasure of
+things to keep, that were hers for all time, and could be looked at in
+memory's chambers whenever she pleased. Yet she could not see the
+moonlight on the bay of Naples this evening for the last time, and
+remember towards what she was turning her face, without some tears
+coming that nobody saw--tears that were salt and hot.
+
+The journey home was a contrast to the way by which they had come. It
+pleased Mr. Copley to go by sea from Naples to Marseilles, and from
+thence through France as fast as the ground could be passed over, till
+they reached Dover. And although those were not the days of lightning
+travel, yet travelling continually, the effect was of one swift,
+confused rush between Naples and London. Instead of the leisurely,
+winding course pursued to Dresden, and from Dresden to Venice,
+deviating at will from the shortest or the most obvious route, stopping
+at will at any point where the fancy took them, dawdling, speculating,
+enjoying, getting good out of every step of the way,--this journey was
+a sort of flash from the one end of it to the other, with nothing seen
+or remembered between but the one item of fatigue. So it came about,
+that when they found themselves in a London lodging-house, and Mrs.
+Copley and Dolly sat down and looked at each other, they had the
+feeling of having left Sorrento last evening, and of being dazed with
+the sudden transition from Sorrento and sunshine to London and smoke.
+
+"Well!" said Mr. Copley, rubbing his hands, "here we are!"
+
+"I don't feel as if I was anywhere," said his wife. "My head's in a
+whirl. Is this the way you like to travel, Frank?"
+
+"The purpose of travelling, my dear," said Mr. Copley, still rubbing
+his hands--it must have been with satisfaction, for it could not have
+been with cold--"the purpose of travel is--to get over the ground."
+
+"It wasn't my purpose when I went away."
+
+"No--but when you came back."
+
+"It wasn't my purpose anyway," said Mrs. Copley. "I should never stir
+from my place if I had to move the way you have kept me moving. My head
+is in a whirl."
+
+"I'll take hold and turn it round the other way."
+
+"I think it is quite likely you will! I should like to know what you
+mean to do with us, now you have got us here."
+
+"Keep you here."
+
+"What are you going to do with yourself, Mr. Copley?"
+
+"There are always so many uses that I can make of myself, more than I
+have time for, that I cannot tell which I shall take hold of first."
+
+With which utterance he quitted the room, almost before it was fairly
+out of his mouth. The two left behind sat and looked at the room, and
+then at each other.
+
+"What are we going to do now, Dolly?" Mrs. Copley asked in evidently
+dismayed uncertainty.
+
+"I don't know, mother."
+
+"How long do you suppose your father will be contented to stay in this
+house?"
+
+"I have no means of guessing, mother. I don't know why we are here at
+all."
+
+"We had to go somewhere, I suppose, when we came to London--just for
+the first; but I can't stay _here_, Dolly!"
+
+"Of course not, mother."
+
+"Then where are we going to? It is all very well to say 'of course
+not;' but where can we go, Dolly?"
+
+"I have been thinking about it, mother, dear, but I have not found out
+yet. If we knew how long father wanted to stay in London"----
+
+"It is no use asking that. I can tell you beforehand. He don't know
+himself. But it is my belief he'll find something or other to make him
+want to stay here the rest of his life."
+
+"O mother, I hope not!"
+
+"It is no use speaking to him about it, Dolly. Even if he knew, he
+would not own it, but that's my belief; and I can't bear London, Dolly.
+A very few days of this noise and darkness would just put me back where
+I was before we went away. I know it would."
+
+
+"This is a darker day than common; they are not all so."
+
+"They are all like gloom itself, compared to where we have been. I tell
+you, Dolly, I cannot stand it. After Sorrento, I cannot bear this."
+
+"It's my belief, mother, you want home and Roxbury air. Why don't you
+represent that to father, forcibly?"
+
+"Dolly, I never put myself in the way of your father's pleasure. He
+must take his pleasure; and he likes London. How he can, I don't see;
+but he does, and so do a great many other people; it may be a want of
+taste in me; I daresay it is; but I shall not put myself in the way of
+his pleasure. I'll stand it as long as I can, and when I cannot stand
+it any longer, I'll die. It will come to an end some time."
+
+"Mother, don't talk so! We'll coax father to finish up his business and
+go home to Roxbury. I am quite setting my heart on it. Only you have
+patience a little, and don't lose courage. I'll talk to father as soon
+as I get a chance."
+
+"What a dirty place this is!" was Mrs. Copley's next remark.
+
+"Yes. It is not like the rocks and the sea. A great city must be more
+or less so, I suppose."
+
+"I believe great cities are a mistake. I believe they were not meant to
+be built. They don't agree with me, anyway. Well, I'll lie down on that
+old sofa there--it's hard enough to have been one of Job's
+troubles--and see if I can get to sleep."
+
+Dolly drew a soft shawl over her, and sat down to keep watch alone. The
+familiar London sounds were not cheering to the ears which had been so
+lately listening to the lap of the waves and the rustling of the myrtle
+branches. And the dingy though comfortable London lodging-house was a
+poor exchange for the bay of Sorrento and the bright rooms full of the
+scents of orange flowers and roses and carnations. Dolly gave way a
+little and felt very down-hearted. Not merely for this change of her
+outside world, indeed; Dolly was not so weak; only in this case the
+outward symbolised the inward, and gave fitting form and imagery for
+it. The grime and confusion of London streets, to Dolly's fancy, were
+like the evil ways which she saw close upon her; and as roses and
+myrtles, so looked a fair family life of love and right-doing. Why
+not?--when He, who is Love itself and Righteousness immaculate,
+declares of Himself,--"I am the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the
+valleys." I do not think those words occurred to Dolly that night, but
+other Bible words did, after a while. Promises of the life that shall
+be over all the earth one day, when the wilderness and the desert
+places shall be no longer desolate or barren, but shall "rejoice and
+blossom as the rose;" when to the Lord's people, "the sun shall no
+longer be their light by day, neither for brightness shall the moon
+give light" to them; when "sorrow and sighing shall flee away," and
+"the days of their mourning shall be ended." The words were like a
+lovely chime of bells,--or like the breath from a whole garden of roses
+and orange flowers,--or like the sunset light on the bay of Naples; or
+anything else most majestic, sweet, and fair. What if there were
+shadowed places to go through first?--And a region of shadow Dolly
+surely knew she had entered now. She longed for her father to come
+home; she wanted to consult with him about their arrangements, and so
+arrive at some certainty respecting what she had to do and expect. But
+Dolly knew that an early coming home was scarce to be hoped for; and
+she providently roused her mother at ten o'clock, and persuaded her to
+go to bed. Then Dolly waited alone in truth, with not even her sleeping
+mother's company; very sad at heart, and clutching, as a lame man does
+his stick, at some of the words of comfort she knew. "Though I walk
+through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for
+Thou art with me." The case was not quite so bad, nor so good, with her
+as that; but the words were a strong staff to lean upon, nevertheless.
+And those others: "Because he hath set his love upon Me, therefore will
+I deliver him; I will set him on high, because he hath known My name.
+He shall call upon Me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in
+trouble;"... And, "There shall no evil happen to the just." Dolly
+stayed her heart on such words, while she waited for her father's
+coming. As it grew later and yet later she doubted whether she ought to
+wait. She was waiting however when he came, between twelve and one, but
+nearer the latter. She listened to his step on the stair, and knew all
+was not right; and when he opened the door, she saw. Her father had
+surely been taking wine or something; his face was flushed, his eyes
+were excited, and his manner was wandering.
+
+"Dolly!--What are you here for?"
+
+"I waited for you, father. I wanted to have a talk with you. But it's
+too late now," Dolly said, trembling.
+
+"Too late--yes, of course. Go to bed. That's the thing for you. London
+is a great place, Dolly!"
+
+Alas! His expression of satisfaction was echoed in her heart by an
+anathema. It was no time then to say anything. Dolly went to bed and
+cried herself to sleep, longing for that sunshiny time of which it is
+promised to the Lord's people--"Thy sun shall no more go down by day;"
+and thankful beyond all power of words to express, even then in her
+sorrow, that another sun had even already risen upon her, in the warm
+light of which no utter darkness was possible.
+
+It was a day or two before, with her best watching, she could catch an
+opportunity to speak to her father. The second morning Mrs. Copley had
+headache and staid in bed, and Dolly and Mr. Copley were at breakfast
+alone.
+
+"How long, father, do you think you may find affairs to keep you in
+England?" Dolly began with her father's first cup of coffee.
+
+"As long as I like, my dear. There is no limit. In England there are
+always things going on to keep a man alive, and to keep him busy."
+
+"Isn't that true in America equally?"
+
+"I don't think so. I never found it so. Oh, there is enough to do
+there; but you don't find the same facilities, nor the same men to work
+with; and you don't know what to do with your money there when you have
+got it. England is the place! for a man who wants to live and to enjoy
+life."
+
+"It isn't for a woman," said Dolly. "At least, not for one woman.
+Father, don't you know mother is longing to go home, to Roxbury?"
+
+"Dolly, she is longing for something or other impossible, every day of
+her life."
+
+"But it would do her a great deal of good to be back there."
+
+"It would do me a great deal of harm."
+
+There was a pause here during which Dolly meditated, and Mr. Copley
+buttered pieces of toast and swallowed them with ominous despatch.
+Dolly saw he would be soon through his breakfast at that rate.
+
+"But, father," she began again, "are we to spend all the rest of our
+lives in England?"
+
+"My dear, I don't know anything about the future. I never look ahead.
+The day is as much as I can see through. I advise you to follow my
+example."
+
+"What are mother and I to do, then? We cannot stay permanently here, in
+this house."
+
+"What's the matter with it?"
+
+"Nothing, as a lodging-house; but mother would not thrive or be happy
+in a London lodging-house."
+
+"People's happiness is in their own power. It does not depend upon
+place. All the clergymen will tell you so. You must talk to your
+mother, Dolly."
+
+"Father, I talked to _you_ at Sorrento; but I remember you thought you
+could not live there."
+
+"That was Sorrento; but London!--London is the greatest city in the
+world. Every taste may be suited in London."
+
+"You know the air does not agree with mother. She will not be well if
+we keep her here," said Dolly anxiously; for she saw the last piece of
+toast on its way.
+
+"Nonsense! That is fancy."
+
+"If it is fancy, it is just as good as reality. She was pining when we
+were here before, until we went down to Brierley; and she will lose all
+she has gained in her travelling if we keep her here now."
+
+"Well--I'll see what I can do," said Mr. Copley, rising from the table.
+"When is St. Leger coming back?"
+
+"How should I know? I know nothing at all of his purposes but what he
+told us."
+
+"Have you thrown him over?"
+
+"I never took him up."
+
+"Then you are more of a goose than I thought you. He'll be caught by
+that fair friend of yours, before he gets out of Italy. Good morning!"
+
+Mr. Copley hurried away; and Dolly was left to her doubts. What could
+so interest and hold him in a place where he had no official business,
+where his home was not, and he had no natural associations? Was it the
+attraction of mere pleasure, or was it pleasure under that mischievous,
+false face of gain, which men delight in and call speculation. And from
+speculation proper, carried on among the business haunts of men, there
+is not such a very wide step in the nature of things to the green level
+of the gaming-table. True, many men indulge in the one variety who have
+a horror of the other; but Dolly's father, she knew, had a horror of
+neither. Stocks, or dice, what did it matter? and in both varieties the
+men who played with him, she knew too, would help their play with wine.
+Against these combined powers, what was she? And what was to become of
+them all?
+
+Part of the question was answered at dinner that evening. Mr. Copley
+announced that Brierley Cottage was unoccupied and that he had retaken
+it for them.
+
+"Brierley!" cried Mrs. Copley. "Brierley! Are we going back _there_
+again! Frank, do you mean that we are to spend all our lives apart in
+future?"
+
+"Not at all, my dear! If you will be so good as to stay with me, I
+shall be very happy."
+
+"In London! But you know very well I cannot live in London."
+
+"Then you can go down to Brierley."
+
+"And how often shall you come there?"
+
+"When the chinks of business are wide enough to let me slip through."
+
+"Business! All you live for is business. Mr. Copley, what do you expect
+is to become of Dolly, shut up in a cottage down in the country?"
+
+"How is she to get married, you mean? _She_ expects a fairy prince to
+come along one of these days; and of course he could find her at
+Brierley as easily as anywhere. It makes no difference in a fairy tale.
+In fact, the unlikely places are just the ones where the princes turn
+up."
+
+"You will not be serious!" sighed Mrs. Copley.
+
+"Serious? I am nothing but serious. The regular suitor, proposed by the
+parents, has offered himself and been rejected; and now there is
+nothing to do but to wait for the fairy prince."
+
+Poor Mrs. Copley gave it up. Her husband's words were always too quick
+for her.
+
+Brierley was afterwards discussed between her and Dolly. The proposal
+was welcome to neither of them. Yet London would not do for Mrs.
+Copley; she grew impatient of it more and more. And so, within a week
+after their arrival, they left it and went down again to their old home
+in the country. It felt like going to prison, Mrs. Copley said. Though
+the country was still full of summer's wealth and beauty; and it was
+impossible not to feel the momentary delight of the change from London.
+The little garden was crowded with flowers, the fields all around rich
+in grass and grain; the great trees of the park standing in their
+unchanged regal beauty; the air sweet as air could be, without orange
+blossoms. And yet it seemed to the two ladies, when Mr. Copley left
+them again after taking them down to the cottage, that they were shut
+off and shut up in a respectable and very eligible prison, from whence
+escape was doubtful.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+DOWN HILL.
+
+To do Mr. Copley justice, he left the prison very well provided and
+furnished. The store closet and pantry were stocked; the house put in
+tolerable order, and two maids were taken down. The old gardener had
+disappeared, but Dolly declared she would keep the flowers in order
+herself. So for a number of weeks things really went not ill with them
+at Brierley. Dolly did keep the flowers in order, and she did a great
+many other things; the chief of which, however, was attending to her
+mother. How exquisitely she did this it would take a great deal of
+detail to tell. It was shown, or felt rather, for a great part, in very
+small particulars. Not only in taking care of her mother's wardrobe and
+toilette, like the most skilled of waiting-maids; not only in ordering
+and providing her meals like the most dainty of housekeepers; not only
+in tireless reading aloud of papers and books, whatever could be got to
+interest Mrs. Copley; these were part, but besides these there were a
+thousand little touches a day given to Mrs. Copley's comfort, that even
+herself hardly took any note of. Dolly's countenance never was seen to
+fall in her mother's presence, nor her spirits perceived to flag. She
+was like the flowers with which she filled the house and dressed the
+table; sweet and fresh and cheery and lovely. And so ministering, and
+so ministered to, I cannot say that the life of the mother and daughter
+was other than a happy one. If Mrs. Copley was sensible of a grievous
+want here and there, which made her nervous and irritable whenever she
+thought of it, the tenderness of Dolly's soothing and the contagion of
+Dolly's peace were irresistible; and if Dolly had a gnawing subject of
+care, which hurt and pricked and stung her perpetually, a cloud of fear
+darkening over her, from the shadow of which she could not get free;
+yet the loving care to ward off both the pain and the fear from her
+mother, helped at least to keep her own heart fresh and strong to bear
+whatever was coming.
+
+So in their little room, at their table, or about the flowers in the
+garden, or sitting in the honeysuckle porch reading, the mother and
+daughter were always together, and the days of late summer and then of
+autumn went by sweetly enough. And when the last roses were gone and
+the honeysuckle vines had ceased to send forth their breath of
+fragrance, and leaves turned sear, and the winds blew harsh from the
+sea, Dolly and Mrs. Copley made themselves all the snugger in the
+cottage; and knitting and reading was carried on in the glow of a good
+fire that filled all their little room with brightness. They were ready
+for winter; and winter when it came did not chill them; the household
+life was warm and busy. All this while they had the stir of frequent
+visits from Mr. Copley, and between whiles the expectation of them.
+They were never long; he came and went, Mrs. Copley said, like a gust
+of wind, with a rush and a whistle and a roar, and then was gone,
+leaving you to feel how still it was. However, these gusts of wind
+brought a great deal of refreshment. Mr. Copley always came with his
+hands full of papers; always had the last London or Edinburgh
+Quarterly, and generally some other book or books for his wife and
+daughter to delight themselves withal. And though Dolly was not always
+satisfied with her father's appearance, yet on the whole he gave her no
+new or increased occasion for anxiety.
+
+So the autumn and winter went not ill away. The cottage had no
+visitors. It was at some distance from the village, and in the village
+there was hardly anybody that would have held himself entitled to visit
+there. The doctor was an old bachelor. The rector took no account of
+the two stranger ladies whom now and then his eye roved over in service
+time. Truly they were not often to be seen in his church, for the
+distance was too far for Mrs. Copley to walk, unless in exceptionally
+good days; when the weather and the footing and her own state of body
+and mind were in rare harmony over the undertaking. There was nobody
+else to take notice of them, and nobody did take notice of them; and in
+process of time it came to pass, not unnaturally, that Mrs. Copley
+began to get tired of living alone. For though it is extremely pleasant
+to be quiet, yet it remains true that man was made a social animal; and
+if he is in a healthy condition he craves contact with his fellows. As
+the winter wore away, some impression of this sort seemed to force
+itself upon Mrs. Copley.
+
+"I wonder what your father is dreaming of!" she said one day, when she
+had sat for some time looking at Dolly, who was drawing. "He seems to
+think it quite natural that you should live down here at this cottage,
+year in and year out, like a toad in a hole; with no more life or
+society. We might as well be shut up in a nunnery, only then there
+would be more of us. I never heard of a nunnery with only two nuns."
+
+"Are you getting tired of it, mother?"
+
+"Tired!--that isn't the word. I think I am growing stupid, and
+gradually losing my wits."
+
+"We have not been a bit stupid this winter, mother, dear."
+
+"We haven't seen anybody."
+
+"The family are soon coming to Brierley House, Mrs. Jersey says. I
+daresay you will see somebody then."
+
+"I don't believe we shall. The English don't like strangers, I tell
+you, Dolly, unless they come recommended by something or other;--and
+there is nothing to recommend us."
+
+Mrs. Copley uttered this last sentence with such a dismal sort of
+realisation, that Dolly laughed out.
+
+"You are too modest, mother. I do not believe things are as bad as
+that."
+
+"You will see," said her mother. "And I hope you will stop going to see
+the housekeeper then."
+
+"I do not know why I should," said Dolly quietly.
+
+However, this question began to occupy her; not the question of her
+visiting Mrs. Jersey or of any one else visiting them; but this
+prolonged living alone to which her mother and she seemed to be
+condemned. It was not good, and it was not right; and Dolly saw that it
+was beginning to work unfavourably upon Mrs. Copley's health and
+spirits. But London? and a lodging-house? That would be worse yet; and
+for a house to themselves in London Dolly did not believe the means
+were at hand.
+
+Lately, things had been less promising. Mr. Copley seemed to be not so
+ready with his money; and he did not look well. Yes, he was well, he
+said when she asked him; nevertheless, her anxious eye read the old
+signs. She had not noticed them during the winter, or but slightly and
+rarely. Whether Mr. Copley had been making a vigorous effort to be as
+good as his word and spare Dolly pain; whether his sense of character
+had asserted itself, whether he had been so successful in speculation
+or play that he did not need opiates and could do without irritants; I
+do not know. There had been an interval. Now, Dolly began to be
+conscious again of the loss of freshness, the undue flush, the weak
+eyes, the unsteady mouth, the uneven gait. A stranger as yet might have
+passed it all by without notice; Dolly knew the change from her
+father's former quick, confident movements, iron nerves and muscular
+activity. And what was almost worse than all to her, among indications
+of his being entered on a downward course, she noticed that now he
+avoided her eye; looked at her, but preferred not meeting her look. I
+cannot tell how dreadful this was to Dolly. She had been always
+accustomed, until lately, to respect her father and to see him
+respected; to look at him as holding his place among men with much more
+than the average of influence and power; he was apt to do what he
+wished to do, and also to make other men do it. He was recognised as a
+leader in all parties and plans in which he took any share; Mr.
+Copley's word was quoted and Mr. Copley's lead was followed; and as is
+the case with all such men, his confidence in himself had been one of
+his sources of power and means of success. Dolly had been all her life
+accustomed to this as the natural and normal condition of things. Now
+she saw that her father had ceased to respect himself. The agony this
+revelation brought to Mr. Copley's loyal little daughter, it is
+impossible to tell. She felt it almost unbearable, shrank from it,
+would have closed her eyes to it; but Dolly was one of those whose
+vision is not clouded but rather made more keen by affection; and she
+failed to see nothing that was before her.
+
+The ministry Dolly applied to this new old trouble was of the most
+exquisite kind. Without making it obtrusive, she bestowed upon her
+father a sort of service the like of which not all the interest of
+courts can obtain for their kings. She was tender of him, with a
+tenderness that came like the touch of a soft summer wind; coming and
+going, and coming again. It calls for no answer or return; only it is
+there with its blessing, comforting tired nerves and soothing ruffled
+spirits. Mr. Copley hardly knew what Dolly was doing; hardly knew that
+it was Dolly; when now it was a gentle touch on his arm, leading him to
+the tea-table, and now a specially prepared cup, and Dolly bringing it,
+and standing before him smiling and tasting it, looking at him over it.
+And Mr. Copley certainly thought at such times that a prettier vision
+was not to be seen in the whole United Kingdom. Another time she would
+perch herself upon his knee and stroke back his hair from his temples,
+with fingers so delicate it was like the touch of a fairy; and then
+sometimes she would lay her head caressingly down on his shoulder; and
+though at such times Dolly could willingly have broken her heart in
+weeping, she let Mr. Copley see nothing but smiles, and suffered scarce
+so much as a stray sigh to come to his ear.
+
+"Have you seen anything of the great people?" he asked one evening,
+when Dolly had moved his sudden admiration.
+
+"Do you mean the people at the House?" his wife said. "No, of course.
+Don't you know, Mr. Copley, you must be great yourself to have the
+great look at you."
+
+"Humph! There are different ways of being great. I shouldn't wonder,
+now, if you could show Lady Brierley as much as Lady Brierley could
+show you--in some ways."
+
+"What extravagant notions you do have, Frank," said his wife. "You are
+so much of an American, you forget everybody around you is English."
+
+"Lady Brierley has been only a little while come home," said Dolly. "We
+need not discuss her yet."
+
+And so speaking, Dolly brought out the Bible. The reading with her
+mother had become a regular thing now, greatly helpful to Mrs. Copley's
+good rest, Dolly believed, both by day and night; and latterly when he
+had been at the cottage her father had not run away when she brought
+her book. Alone with her mother, Dolly had long since added prayer to
+the reading; not yet in her father's presence. Her heart beat a little,
+it cost an effort; all the same Dolly knew it must now be done. With a
+grave little face she brought out her Bible, laid it on the table, and
+opened it at the fifth chapter of Matthew.
+
+"Here comes our domestic chaplain!" said her father. Dolly looked up at
+him and smiled.
+
+"Then of course you would not interfere with anything the chaplain
+does?" she said.
+
+"Only not preach," said her father in the same tone. "I don't approve
+of any but licensed preaching. And that one need not hear unless one
+has a mind to."
+
+"I let the Bible do the preaching, generally," said Dolly. "But we do
+pray, father."
+
+"Who?" said Mr. Copley quickly. "Your mother and you? Everybody prays,
+I hope, now and then."
+
+"We do it now, and then too, father. Or rather, _I_ do it now, after
+reading."
+
+Mr. Copley made no reply; and Dolly went on, feeling that the way was
+open to her, if it were also a little difficult to tread. She read part
+of the chapter, feeling every word through and through. Alas, alas,
+alas! The "poor in spirit," the "pure in heart," the "meek,"--where
+were these? and what had their blessing to do with the ears to which
+she was reading? The "persecuted for righteousness' sake,"--how she
+knew her father and mother would lay that off upon the martyrs of olden
+time, with whom and their way of life, they thought, the present time
+has nothing to do! and so, with the persecuted dismiss the meek and the
+pure. The blessings referred certainly to a peculiar set of persons; no
+one is called on in these days to endure persecution. Dolly knew how
+they would escape applying what they heard to themselves; and she knew,
+with her heart full, what they were missing thereby. She went on,
+feeling every word so thrillingly that it was no wonder they came from
+her lips with a very peculiar and moving utterance; that is the way
+with words that are spoken from the heart; and although indeed the
+lovely sentences might have passed by her hearers, as trite or
+unintelligible or obsolete, the inflexions of Dolly's voice caught the
+hearts of both parents and stirred them involuntarily with an answering
+thrill. She did not know it; she did know that they were very still and
+listening; and after the reading was done, though she trembled a
+little, her own feelings were so roused that it was not very difficult
+for Dolly to kneel down by the table and pray.
+
+But she had only scanty opportunities of working upon her father in
+this or in any way; Mr. Copley's visits to Brierley, always short,
+began now to be more and more infrequent.
+
+As weeks went on and the spring slipped by, another thing was
+unmistakable about these visits; Mr. Copley brought less money with
+him. Through the autumn and winter, the needs of the little household
+had been indifferently well supplied. Dolly had paid her servants and
+had money for her butcher and grocer. Now this was no longer always the
+case. Mr. Copley came sometimes with empty pockets and a very thin
+pocket-book; he had forgotten, he said; or, he would make it all right
+next time. Which Dolly found out he never did. Her servants' wages
+began to get in arrear, and Dolly herself consequently into anxious
+perplexity. She had, she knew, a little private stock of her own,
+gained by her likenesses and other drawings; but like a wise little
+woman as she was, Dolly resolved she would not touch it unless she came
+to extremity. But what should she do? Just one thing she was clear
+upon; she would _not_ run in debt; she would not have what she could
+not pay for. She paid off one servant and dismissed her. This could not
+happen without the knowledge of Mrs. Copley.
+
+"But however are you going to manage?  the latter asked in much concern.
+
+"Honestly, mother. Oh, and nicely too. You will see. I must be a poor
+thing if I could not keep these little rooms in order."
+
+"And make beds? and set tables? and wash dishes?"
+
+"I like to set tables. And what is it to wash two cups and spoons? And
+if I make the beds, we shall have them comfortable."
+
+"Jane certainly had her own ideas about making beds, and they were
+different from mine," said Mrs. Copley. "But I hate to have you, Dolly.
+It will make your hands red and rough."
+
+"Nothing does that for my hands, luckily, mother, dear. Don't you mind.
+We shall get on nicely."
+
+"But what's the matter? haven't you got money enough?"
+
+"Mother, I won't have servants that I cannot pay punctually."
+
+"Don't your father give you money to pay them?"
+
+"He gave me money enough to pay part; so I pay part, and send the other
+part away," said Dolly gaily.
+
+"I _hope_ he has not got into speculation again," said Mrs. Copley. "I
+can't think what he busies himself about in London."
+
+This subject Dolly changed as fast as she could. She feared something
+worse than speculation. Whether it were cards, or dice, or betting, or
+more business-like forms of the vice, however, the legitimate
+consequences were not slow to come; the supply of money for the little
+household down at Brierley became like the driblets of a stream which
+has been led off from its proper bed by a side channel; only a few
+trickling drops instead of the full, natural current. Dolly could not
+get from her father the means to pay the wages of her remaining
+servant. This was towards the beginning of summer.
+
+Dolly pondered now very seriously what she should do. The lack of a
+housemaid she had made up quite comfortably with her own two busy
+hands; Mrs. Copley at least had been in particular comfort, whenever
+she did not get a fit of fretting on Dolly's account; and Dolly herself
+had been happy, though unquestionably the said hands had been very
+busy. Now what lay before her was another thing. She could not consult
+her mother, and there was nobody else to consult; she must even make up
+her mind as to the line of duty the best way she might; and however the
+difficulty and even the impossibility of doing without anybody stared
+her in the face, it was constantly met by the greater impossibility of
+taking what she could not pay for. Dolly made up her mind on the
+negative view of the case; what she _could_ being not clear, only what
+she could not. She would dismiss her remaining servant, and do the
+cooking herself. It would be only for two. And perhaps, she thought,
+this step would go further to bring her father to his senses than any
+other step she could take.
+
+Dolly, however, went wisely to work. Quite alone in the house she and
+her mother could not be. She went to her friend Mrs. Jersey and talked
+the matter over with her; and through her got a little girl, a small
+farmer's daughter, to come and do the rough work. She let her mother
+know as little as possible about the matter; she took some of her own
+little stock and paid off the cook, representing to her mother no more
+than that she had exchanged the one helpmeet for the other. But poor
+Dolly found presently that she did not know how to cook. How should she?
+
+"What's become of all our good bread?" said Mrs. Copley, a day or two
+after the change. "And, Dolly, I don't know what you call this, but if
+it is meant for hash, it is a mistake."
+
+Dolly heard in awed silence; and when dinner and breakfast had seen
+repeated animadversions of the like kind, she made up her mind again
+and took her measures. She went to her friend Mrs. Jersey, and asked
+her to teach her to make bread.
+
+"To make bread!" the good housekeeper repeated in astonishment. "You,
+Miss Dolly? Can that be necessary?"
+
+"Mother cannot eat poor bread," said Dolly simply. "And there is nobody
+but me to make it. I think I can learn, Mrs. Jersey; cannot I?"
+
+The tears stood in the good woman's eyes. "But, my dear Miss Dolly,"
+she began anxiously, "this is a serious matter. You do not look very
+strong. Who does the rest of the cooking? Pardon me for being so bold
+to ask; but I am concerned about you."
+
+Therewith Dolly's own eyes became moist; however, it would never do to
+take that tone; so she shook off the feeling, and confessed she was the
+sole cook in her mother's establishment, and that for her mother's
+well-doing it was quite needful that what she eat should be good and
+palatable. And Dolly declared she would like to know how to do things,
+and be independent.
+
+"You've got the realest sort of independence," said the housekeeper.
+"Well, my dear, come, and I'll teach you all you want to know."
+
+There followed now a series of visits to the House, in which Mrs.
+Jersey thoroughly fulfilled her promise. In the kind housekeeper's room
+Dolly learned not only to make bread and biscuit, and everything else
+that can be concocted of flour, but she was taught how to cook a bit of
+beefsteak, how to broil a chicken, how to make omelettes and salads and
+a number of delicate French dishes; stews and soups and ragouts and no
+end of comfortable things. Dolly was in great earnest, therefore lost
+not a hint and never forgot a direction; she was quick and keen to
+learn; and Mrs. Jersey soon declared laughingly that she believed she
+was born to be a cook.
+
+"And it goes great qualities to that, Miss Dolly," she said. "You
+needn't take it as low praise. There are people, no doubt, that are
+nothing _but_ cooks; that's the fault of something else, I always
+believe. Whoever can be a real cook can be something better if he has a
+chance and a will."
+
+"It seems to me, it is just common sense, Mrs. Jersey."
+
+"I suppose you are not going to tell me that _that_ grows on every
+bush? Yes, common sense has a great deal to do, no doubt; but one must
+have another sort of sense; one must know when a thing is right; and
+one must be able to tell the moment of time when it is right, and then
+one must be decided and quick to take it then and not let it have the
+other moment which would make it all wrong. Now, Miss Dolly, I see you
+know when to take off an omelette--and yet you couldn't tell me how you
+know."
+
+Dolly's learning was indeed by practising with her own hands. One day
+it happened that Lady Brierley had come into the housekeeper's room to
+see about some arrangements she was making for Mrs. Jersey's comfort.
+While she was there, Dolly opened the door from an adjoining light
+closet, with her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and her arms dusted
+with flour. Seeing somebody whom she did not know, Dolly retreated,
+shutting the door after her.
+
+"Whom have you got there, Mrs. Jersey?" said the lady, forgetting what
+she had come about. "That girl is too handsome to be among the maids."
+
+"She's not among the maids, my lady. She is not in the house. She only
+came to get some instruction from me, which I was very glad to give
+her?"
+
+"Of course. That is quite in your way. But she does not belong in the
+village, I think?"
+
+"No, my lady, nor hereabouts at all, properly. She lives in Brierley
+Cottage; she and her mother; I believe the father is there now and by
+times, but they live alone mostly, and he is in London. They have been
+much better off; and last year they went travelling all through Europe.
+I thought I should never see them again; but here they are back, and
+have been for a year."
+
+"I think I have heard of them. Are they poor?"
+
+"I am much afraid so, my lady."
+
+"Would it do any good, Jersey, if I went there?"
+
+"It would be a great kindness, my lady. I think it might do good."
+
+The final result of all which was a visit. It was now full summer; the
+season had come into its full bloom and luxuriance. Roses were opening
+their sweet buds all around Brierley Cottage; the honeysuckles made the
+porch into an arbour; the garden was something of a wilderness, but a
+wilderness of lovely, old-fashioned things. One warm afternoon, Dolly
+with a shears in her hand had gone out into the garden to cut off the
+full-blown roses, which to-morrow would shed their leaves; doing a
+little trimming by the way, both of rose-bushes and other things; the
+wildering of the garden had been so great. And very busy she was, and
+enjoying it; "cutting in" here, and "cutting out" there, flinging the
+refuse shoots and twigs carelessly from her into the walk to be
+gathered up afterwards. She was so busy she never heard the roll of
+carriage wheels, never heard them stop, nor the gate open; knew
+nothing, in fact, but the work she was busy with, till a slight sound
+on the gravel near by made her look round. Then she saw at one glance
+the lady standing there in laces and feathers, the carriage waiting
+outside the gate, and the servants in attendance around it. Dolly shook
+herself free of the roses and stepped forward, knowing very well who it
+must be. A little fresh colour had been brought into her cheeks by her
+exercise and the interest in her work; a little extra flush came now,
+with the surprise of this apparition. She was as lovely as one of her
+own rose-branches, and the wind had blown her hair about, which was
+always wayward, we know, giving perhaps to the great lady the
+impression of equal want of training. But she was very lovely, and the
+visitor could not take her eyes off her.
+
+"You are Miss--Copley?" she said. "I have heard Mrs. Jersey speak of
+you."
+
+"Mrs. Jersey is a very kind friend to me," said Dolly. "Will Lady
+Brierley walk in?"
+
+Mrs. Jersey is her friend, thought the lady as she followed Dolly into
+the cottage. Probably she is just of that level, and my coming is
+thrown away. However, she went in. The little cottage sitting-room was
+again something of a puzzle to her; it was not rich, but neither did it
+look like anything Mrs. Jersey would have contrived for her own
+accommodation. Flowers filled the chimney and stood in vases or
+baskets; books lay on one table, on the other drawing materials; and
+simple as everything was, there was nevertheless in everything the
+evidence, negative as well as positive, that the tastes at home there
+were refined and delicate and cultivated. It is difficult to tell just
+how the impression comes upon a stranger, but it came upon Lady
+Brierley before she had taken her seat. Dolly too, the more she looked
+at her, puzzled her. She had set down her basket of roses and thrown
+off her garden hat, and now opened the blinds which shaded the room too
+much, and took a chair near her visitor. The girl's manner, the lady
+saw, was extremely composed; she did not seem at all fluttered at the
+honour done her, and offered her attentions with a manner of simple
+courtesy which was graceful enough but perfectly cool. So cool, that it
+rather excited Lady Brierley's curiosity, who was accustomed to be a
+person of great importance wherever she went. Her eye took in swiftly
+the neatness of the room, its plainness, and yet its expression of life
+and mental activity; the work and workbasket on the chair, the bunch of
+ferns and amaranthus in one vase, the roses in another, the violets on
+the table, the physiognomy of the books, which were not from the next
+circulating library, the drawing materials; and then came back to the
+figure seated before her, with the tossed, beautiful hair and the very
+delicate, spirited face; and it crossed Lady Brierley's mind, if she
+had a daughter like that!--with the advantages and bringing up she
+could have given her, what would she not have been! And the next
+thought was, she was glad that her son was in Russia. Dolly had opened
+the window and sat quietly down. She knew her mother would not wish to
+be called. Once, months ago, Dolly had a little hoped for this visit,
+and thought it might bring her a pleasant friend, or social
+acquaintance at least; now that so long time had passed since Lady
+Brierley's return, with no sign of kindness from the great house, she
+had given up any such expectation; and so cared nothing about the
+visit. Dolly's mind was stayed elsewhere; she did not need Lady
+Brierley; and it was in part the beautiful, disengaged grace of her
+manner which drew the lady's curiosity.
+
+"I did not know Brierley Cottage was such a pretty place," she began.
+
+"It is quite comfortable," said Dolly. "Now in summer, when the flowers
+are out, I think it is very pretty."
+
+"You are fond of flowers. I found you pruning your rose-bushes, were
+you not?"
+
+"Yes," said Dolly. "The old man who used to attend to it has left me in
+the lurch since we went away. If I did not trim them, they would go
+untrimmed. They do go untrimmed, as it is."
+
+"Is there no skill required?"
+
+"Oh yes," said Dolly, her face wrinkling all up with fun; "but I have
+enough for that. I have learned so much. And pruning is very pretty
+work. This is not just the time for it."
+
+"How can it be pretty? I do not understand."
+
+"No, I suppose not," said Dolly. "But I think it is pretty to cut out
+the dead wood which is unsightly, and cut away the old wood which can
+be spared, leaving the best shoots for blossoming the next year. And
+then the trimming in of overgrown bushes, so as to have neat, compact,
+graceful shrubs, instead of wild, awkward-growing things--it is
+constant pleasure, for every touch tells; and the rose-bushes, I
+believe seem almost like intelligent creatures to me."
+
+"But you would not deal with intelligent creatures so?"
+
+"The Lord does," said Dolly quietly.
+
+"What do you mean?" said the lady sharply. "I do not understand your
+meaning."
+
+"I did not mean that all people were rose-bushes," said Dolly, with
+again an exquisite gleam of amusement in her face.
+
+"But will you not be so good as to explain? What _can_ you mean, by
+your former remark?"
+
+"It is not a very deep meaning," said Dolly with a little sigh. "You
+know, Lady Brierley, the Bible likens the Lord's people, Christians, to
+plants in the Lord's garden; and the Lord is the husbandman; and where
+He sees that a plant is growing too rank and wild, He prunes it--cuts
+it in--that it may be thriftier and healthier and do its work better."
+
+"That's a dreadful idea! Where did you get it?"
+
+"Christ said so," Dolly answered, looking now in the face of her
+questioner. "Is it a dreadful idea? It does not seem so to me. He is
+the husbandman. And I would not like to be a useless branch."
+
+"You have been on the Continent lately?" Lady Brierley quitted the
+former subject.
+
+"Yes; last year."
+
+"You went to my old lodging-house at Sorrento, I think I heard from
+Mrs. Jersey. Did you find it comfortable?"
+
+"Oh, delightful!" said Dolly with a breath which told much. "Nothing
+could be nicer, or lovelier."
+
+"Then you enjoyed life in Italy?"
+
+"Very much. But indeed I enjoyed it everywhere."
+
+"What gave you so much pleasure? I envy you. Now I go all over Europe,
+and find nothing particular to hold me anywhere. And I see by the way
+you speak that it was not so with you."
+
+"No," said Dolly, half smiling. "Europe was like a great, real
+fairyland to me. I feel as if I had been travelling in fairyland."
+
+"Do indulge me and tell me how that was? The novelty, perhaps."
+
+"Novelty is pleasant enough," said Dolly, "but I do not think it was
+the novelty. Rome was more fascinating the last week than it was the
+first."
+
+"Ah, Rome! there one never gets to the end of the novelties."
+
+"It was not that," said Dolly shaking her head. "I grew absolutely fond
+of the gladiator; and Raphael's Michael conquering the dragon was much
+more beautiful to me the last time I saw it than ever it was before;
+and so of a thousand other things. They seemed to grow into my heart.
+So at Venice. The palace of the doges--I did not appreciate it at
+first. It was only by degrees that I learned to appreciate it."
+
+"Your taste for art has been uncommonly cultivated!"
+
+"No" said Dolly. "I do not know anything about art. Till this journey I
+had never seen much."
+
+"There is a little to see at Brierley," said the lady of the house. "I
+should like to show it to you."
+
+"I should like dearly to see it again," said Dolly. "Your ladyship is
+very kind. Mrs. Jersey did show me the house once, when we first came
+here; and I was delighted with some of the pictures, and the old
+carvings. It was all so unlike anything at home."
+
+"At home?" said Lady Brierley enquiringly.
+
+"I mean, in America."
+
+"Novelty again," said the lady, smiling, for she could not help liking
+Dolly.
+
+"No," said Dolly, "not that. It was far more than that. It was the real
+beauty,--and then, it was the tokens of a family which had had power
+enough to write its history all along. There was the power, and the
+history; and such a strange breath of other days. There is nothing like
+that in America.''
+
+"Then we shall keep you in England?" said Lady Brierley still with a
+pleased smile.
+
+"I do not know," said Dolly; but her face clouded over and lost the
+brightness which had been in it a moment before.
+
+"I see you would rather return," said her visitor. "Perhaps you have
+not been long enough here to feel at home with us?"
+
+"I have been here for several years," said Dolly. "Ever since I was
+fifteen years old."
+
+"That is long enough to make friends."
+
+"I have not made friends," said Dolly. "My mother's health has kept her
+at home--and I have stayed with her."
+
+"But, my dear, you are just at an age when it is natural to want
+friends and to enjoy them. In later life one learns to be sufficient to
+one's self; but not at eighteen. I am afraid Brierley must be sadly
+lonely to you."
+
+"Oh no," said Dolly, with her sweet gleam of a smile, which went all
+over her face; "I am not lonesome."
+
+"Will you come and see me sometimes?"
+
+"If I can. Thank you, Lady Brierley."
+
+"You seem to me to be a good deal of a philosopher," said the lady, who
+evidently still found Dolly a puzzle. "Or is it rather an artist, that
+I should say?"--glancing at the drawing-table--"I know artists are very
+sufficient to themselves."
+
+"I am neither one nor the other," said Dolly, laughing.
+
+"You are not apathetic--I can see that. What is your secret, Miss
+Copley?"
+
+"I beg your pardon--what secret does your ladyship mean?"
+
+"Your secret of content and self-reliance. Pardon me--but you excite my
+envy and curiosity at once."
+
+Dolly's look went back to the fire. "I have no secret," she said
+gravely. "I am not a philosopher. I am afraid I am not always
+contented. And yet I _am_ content," she added, "with whatever the Lord
+gives me. I know it is good."
+
+Lady Brierley saw tears in the eyes, which were so singularly wise and
+innocent at once. She was more and more interested, but would not
+follow Dolly's last lead. "What do you draw?" she asked, again turning
+her head towards the drawing materials.
+
+"Whatever comes in my way," said Dolly. "Likenesses, sometimes; little
+bits of anything I like."
+
+Lady Brierley begged to be shown a specimen of the likenesses; and
+forthwith persuaded Dolly to come and make a picture of herself. With
+which agreement the visit ended.
+
+If she had come some months ago, thought Dolly as she looked after the
+retreating figure of her visitor, I should have liked it. She might
+have been a friend, and a great help. Now, I don't think you can, my
+lady!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+HANDS FULL.
+
+Dolly was, however, partly mistaken. Lady Brierley was a help. First,
+for the likenesses. Dolly painted so charming a little picture of her
+ladyship that it was a perpetual letter of recommendation; Lady
+Brierley's friends desired to have Dolly's pencil do the same service
+for them; neighbouring families saw and admired her work and came to
+beg to have her skill exerted on their behalf; and, in short, orders
+flowed in upon Dolly to the full occupation of all the time she had to
+give to them. They paid well, too. For that, Dolly had referred to Lady
+Brierley to say what the price ought to be; and Lady Brierley, guessing
+need on the one hand and knowing abundance on the other, had set the
+price at a very pretty figure; and money quite piled itself up in
+Dolly's secret hoard. She was very glad of it; for her supplies from
+her father became more and more precarious. He seemed to shut his eyes
+when he came to Brierley, and not recognise the fact that anything was
+wanting or missing. And well Dolly knew that such wilful oversight
+could never happen if Mr. Copley were himself doing true and faithful
+work; she knew he was going in false and dangerous ways, without being
+able to follow him and see just what they were. Her one comfort was,
+that her mother did not seem to read the signs that were so terribly
+legible to herself.
+
+And here too Lady Brierley's new-found friendship was of use. She
+wrought a diversion for the girl's troubled spirits. She was constantly
+having Dolly at the House. Dolly objected to leaving her mother; at the
+same time Mrs. Copley very much objected to have Dolly stay at home
+when such chances offered; so, at first to paint, and then to give her
+sweet company, Dolly went often, and spent hours at a time with Lady
+Brierley, who on her part grew more and more fond of having the little
+American girl in her society. Dolly was a novelty, and a mystery, and a
+beauty. Lady Brierley's son was in Russia; so there was no harm in her
+being a beauty, but the contrary; it was pleasant to the eyes. And
+Dolly was _naïve_, and fresh, and independent too, with a manner as
+fearless and much more frank than Lady Brierley's own, and yet with as
+simple a reserve of womanly dignity as any lady could have; and how a
+girl that painted likenesses for money, and made her own bread, and
+learned cookery of Mrs. Jersey, could talk to Lord Brierley with such
+sweet, quiet freedom, was a puzzle most puzzling to the great lady. So
+it was to others, for at Brierley House Dolly often saw a great deal of
+company. It did her good; it refreshed her; it gave her a world of
+things to tell for the amusement of her mother; and besides all that,
+she felt that Lady Brierley was really a friend, and would be kind if
+occasion were; indeed, she was kind now.
+
+Dolly needed it all, for darker days were coming, and the shadow of
+them was "cast before," as the manner is. With every visit of Mr.
+Copley to the cottage, Dolly grew more uneasy. He was not looking well,
+nor happy, nor easy; his manner was constrained, his spirits were
+forced; and for all that appeared, he might suppose that Dolly and her
+mother could live on air. He gave them nothing else to live on. What
+did he live on himself, Dolly queried, besides wine? and she made up
+her mind that, hard as it was, and doubtful as the effect, she must
+have a talk with him the next time he came down. "O father, father!"
+she cried to herself in the bitterness of her heart, "how can you! how
+can you! how can you! It never, never ought to be, that a child is
+ashamed for her father! The world is turned upside down."
+
+How intensely bitter it was, the children who have always been proud of
+their parents can never know. Dolly wrung her hands sometimes, in a
+distress that was beyond tears; and then devoted herself with redoubled
+ardour to her mother, to prevent her from finding out how things were
+going. She would have a plain talk with her father the next time he
+came, very difficult as she felt it would be; things could not go on as
+they were; or at least, not without ending in a thorough breakdown. But
+what we purpose is one thing; what we are able to execute is often
+quite another thing.
+
+It was a week or two before Mr. Copley made his appearance. Dolly was
+looking from the window, and saw the village fly drive up and her
+father get out of it. She announced the fact to her mother, and then
+ran down to the garden gate to meet him. As their hands encountered at
+the gate, Dolly almost fell back; took her hand from the latch, and
+only put it forth again when she saw that her father could not readily
+get the gate open. He was looking ill; his gait was tottering, his eye
+wavering, and when he spoke his utterance was confused. Dolly felt as
+if a lump of ice had suddenly come where her heart used to be.
+
+"You are not well, father?" she said as they went up the walk together.
+
+"Well enough," returned Mr. Copley--"all right directly. Cursed wet
+weather--got soaked to the bone--haven't got warm yet."
+
+"Wet weather!" said Dolly; "why, it is very sunny and warm. What are
+you thinking of, father?"
+
+"Sun don't _always_ shine in England," said Mr. Copley. "Let me get in
+and have a cup of tea or coffee. You don't keep such a thing as brandy
+in the house, do you?"
+
+"You have had brandy enough already," said Dolly in a low, grave voice.
+"I will make some coffee. Come in--why, you are trembling, father! Are
+you _cold?_"
+
+"Haven't been warm for three days. Cold? yes. Coffee, Dolly, let me
+have some coffee. It's the vilest climate a man ever lived in."
+
+"Why, father," said Dolly, laying her hand on his sleeve, "your coat is
+wet! What have you done to yourself?"
+
+"Wet? no,--it isn't. I put on a dry coat to come down--wouldn't be
+such a fool as to put on a wet one. Coffee, Dolly! It's cold enough for
+a fire."
+
+"But how _did_ your coat get wet, father?"
+
+"'Tisn't wet. I left a wet coat in London--had enough of it. If you go
+out in England you must get wet. Give me some coffee, if you haven't
+got any brandy. I tell you, I've never been warm since."
+
+Dolly ran up stairs, where Mrs. Copley was making a little alteration
+in her dress.
+
+"Mother," she cried, "will you go down and take care of father? He is
+not well; I am afraid he has taken cold; I am going to make him some
+coffee as fast as I can. Get him to change his coat;--it is wet."
+
+Then Dolly ran down again, every nerve in her trembling, but forcing
+herself to go steadily and methodically to work. She made a cup of
+strong coffee, cooked a nice bit of beefsteak she had in the house,
+rejoicing that she had it; and while the steak was doing she made a
+plate of toast, such as she knew both father and mother were fond of.
+In half an hour she had it all ready and carried it up on a tray. Mrs.
+Copley was sitting with an anxious and perplexed face watching her
+husband; he had crept to the empty fireplace and was leaning towards it
+as towards a place whence comfort ought to be looked for. His wife had
+persuaded him to exchange the wet coat for an old dressing-gown, which
+change, however, seemed to have wrought no bettering of affairs.
+
+"What is the matter?" said poor Mrs. Copley with a scared face. "I
+can't make out anything from what he says."
+
+"He has caught cold, I think," said Dolly very quietly; though her face
+was white, and all the time of her ministrations in the kitchen she had
+worked with that feeling of ice at her heart. "Father, here is your
+coffee, and it is good; maybe this will make you feel better."
+
+She had set her dishes nicely on the table; she had poured out the
+coffee and cut a piece of the steak; but Mr. Copley would look at no
+food. He drank a little coffee, and set the cup down.
+
+"Sloppy stuff! Haven't you got any brandy?"
+
+"You have had brandy already this afternoon, father. Take the coffee
+now."
+
+"Brandy? my teeth were chattering, and I took a wretched glass
+somewhere. Do give me some more, Dolly! and stop this shaking."
+
+"Where did you get cold, Mr. Copley?" asked his wife. "You have caught
+a terrible cold."
+
+"Nothing of the kind. I am all right. Just been in the rain; rain'll
+wet any man; my coat's got it."
+
+"But _when_, Frank?" urged his wife. "There has been no rain to-day; it
+is clear, hot summer weather. When were you in the rain?"
+
+"I don't know. Rain's rain. It don't signify when. Have you got nothing
+better than this? I shall not stop shaking till morning."
+
+And he did not. They got him to bed, and sat and watched by him, the
+mother and daughter; watching the feverish trembling, and the feverish
+flush that gradually rose in his cheeks. They could get no more
+information as to the cause of the mischief. The truth was, that two or
+three nights previous, Mr. Copley had sat long at play and drunk
+freely; lost freely too; so that when at last he went home, his
+condition of mind and body was so encumbered and confused that he took
+no account of the fact that it was raining heavily. He was heated, and
+the outer air was refreshing; Mr. Copley walked home to his lodgings;
+was of course drenched through; and on getting home had no longer
+clearness of perception enough in exercise to know that he must take
+off his wet clothes. How he passed the night he never knew; but the
+morning found him very miserable, and he had been miserable ever since.
+Pains and aches, flushes of heat, creepings of inexplicable cold, would
+not be chased away by any potations his landlady recommended or by the
+stronger draughts to which Mr. Copley's habits bade him recur; and the
+third day, with something of the same sort of dumb instinct which makes
+a wounded or sick animal draw back to cover, he threw himself into the
+post coach and went down to Brierley. Naturally, he took advantage of
+stopping places by the way to get something to warm him; and so reached
+home at last in an altogether muddled and disordered state of mind and
+body.
+
+Neither Mrs. Copley nor Dolly would go to bed that night. Not that
+there was much to do, but there was much to fear; and they clung in
+their fear to each other's company. Mrs. Copley dozed in an easy-chair
+part of the time; and Dolly sat at the open window with her head on the
+sill and lost herself there in slumber that was hardly refreshing. The
+night saw no change; and the morning was welcome, as the morning is in
+times of sickness, because it brought stir and the necessity of work to
+be done.
+
+It was still early when Dolly, after refreshing herself with water and
+changing her dress, went downstairs. She opened the hall door, and
+stood still a moment. The summer morning met her outside, fresh with
+dew, heavy with the scent of roses, musical with the song of birds;
+dim, sweet, full of life, breathing loveliness, folding its loveliness
+in mystery. As yet, things could be seen but confusedly; the dark bank
+of Brierley Park with its giant trees rose up against the sky, there
+was no gleam on the little river, the outlines of nearer trees and
+bushes were merged and indistinct; but what a hum and stir and warble
+and chitter of happy creatures! how many creatures to be happy! and
+what a warm breath of incense told of the blessings of the summer day
+in store for them! For them, and not for Dolly? It smote her hard, the
+question and the answer. It was for her too; it ought to be for her;
+the Lord's will was that all His creatures should be happy; and some of
+his creatures would not! Some refused the rich invitation, and would
+neither take themselves nor let others take the bountiful, tender,
+blessed gifts of God. It came to Dolly with an unspeakable sore pain.
+Yes, the Lord's will was peace and joy and plenty for them all; fulness
+of gracious supply; the singing of delighted hearts, loving and
+praising Him. And men made their own choice to have something else, and
+brought bitterness into what was meant to be only sweet. Tears came
+slowly into her eyes, mournful tears, and rolled down her cheeks
+hopelessly. Whatever was to become now of her little family? Her
+father, she feared, was entering upon a serious illness, which might
+last no one knew how long. Who would nurse him? and if Dolly did, who
+would do the work of the household? and if her father was laid by for
+any considerable time, whence were needful supplies to come from?
+Dolly's little stock would not last for ever. And how would her mother
+stand the strain and the care and the fatigue? It seemed to Dolly as
+she stood there at the door, that her sky was closing in and the ground
+giving way beneath her feet. Usually she kept up her courage bravely;
+just now it failed.
+
+"Dolly," her mother's voice came smothered from over the balusters of
+the upper hall.
+
+"Yes, mother?"
+
+"Send Nelly for the doctor as soon as you can."
+
+"Yes, mother. As soon as it is light enough."
+
+The doctor! that was another thought. Then there would be the doctor's
+bill. But at this point Dolly caught herself up. "_Take no thought for
+the morrow_"--what did that mean? "_Be careful for nothing;_ but in
+everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your
+requests be made known unto God." And, "Who shall separate us from the
+love of Christ?" The words loosed the bands which seemed to have bound
+Dolly's heart in iron; she broke down, fell down on her knees in the
+porch, resting her head on the seat, and burst into a thunder-shower of
+weeping, which greatly cleared the air and relieved the oppression
+under which she had been labouring. This was nearly as uncommon a thing
+for Dolly as her former hopeless mood; she rose up feeling shaken, and
+yet strengthened. Ready for duty.
+
+She went into the little sitting-room, set open the casement, and put
+the furniture in order, dusting and arranging. Leaving that all right,
+Dolly went down to the kitchen and made the fire. She was thinking what
+she should do for breakfast, when her little handmaid made her
+appearance. Dolly gave her some bread and butter and cold coffee, and
+sent her off to the village with a note to the doctor which she had
+meanwhile prepared. Left to herself then, she put on her kettle, and
+looked at the untouched pieces of beefsteak she had cooked last night.
+She knew what to do with them, thanks to Mrs. Jersey. The next thing
+was to go out into the dewy garden and get a handful of different herbs
+and vegetables growing there; and what she did with them I will not
+say; but in a little while Dolly had a most savoury mess prepared. Then
+she crept upstairs to her mother. Here everything was just as it had
+been all night. Dolly whispered to her mother to come down and have
+some breakfast. Mrs. Copley shook her head.
+
+"You must, mother, dear. I have got something nice--and father is
+sleeping; he don't want you. Come! I have got it in the kitchen, for
+Nelly is away, and it's less trouble, and keeps the coffee hot. Come!
+father won't want anything for a little while, and you and I do, and
+must have it, or we cannot stand what is on our hands. Come, mother.
+Wash your face, and it will refresh you, and come right down."
+
+The little kitchen was very neat; the window was open and the summer
+morning looking in; nobody was there but themselves; and so there might
+be many a worse place to take breakfast in. And the meal prepared was
+dainty, though simple. Mrs. Copley could not eat much, nor Dolly; and
+yet the form of coming to breakfast and the nicety of the preparation
+were a comfort; they always are; they seem to say that all things are
+not confusion, and give a kind of guaranty for the continuance of old
+ways. Still, Mrs. Copley did not eat much, and soon went back to her
+watch; and Dolly cleared the table and considered what she could have
+for dinner. For dinner must be as usual; on that she was determined.
+But the doctor's coming was the next thing on the programme.
+
+The doctor came and made his visit, and Dolly met him in the hall as he
+was going away. He was a comfortable-looking man, with the long English
+whiskers; ruddy and fleshy; one who, Dolly was sure, had no objection,
+for his own part, to a good glass of wine, or even a good measure of
+beer, if the wine were not forthcoming.
+
+"Your father, is it?" said the doctor. "Well, take care of him--take
+care of him."
+
+"How shall we take care of him, sir?"
+
+"Well, I've left medicines upstairs. He won't want much to eat; nor
+much of anything, for a day or two."
+
+"What is it? Cold?"
+
+"No, my young lady. Fever."
+
+"He got himself wet in the rain, a few days ago. He was shivering last
+night."
+
+"Very likely. That's fever. Must take its course. He's not shivering
+now."
+
+"Will he be long ill, sir, probably?"
+
+"Impossible to say. These things are not to be counted upon. May get up
+in a day or two, but far more likely not in a week or two. Good
+morning!"
+
+A week or two! Dolly stood and looked after the departing chaise which
+carried the functionary who gave judgment so easily on matters of life
+and death. The question came back. What would become of her mother and
+her, if watching and nursing had to be kept up for weeks?--with all the
+rest there was to do. Dolly felt very blue for a little while; then she
+shook it off again and took hold of her work. Nelly had returned by
+this time, with a knuckle of veal from the butcher's. Dolly put it on,
+to make the nicest possible delicate stew for her mother; and even for
+her father she thought the broth might, do. She gathered herbs and
+vegetables in the garden again, and a messenger came from Mrs. Jersey
+with a basket of strawberries; Dolly wrote a note to go back with the
+basket, and altogether had a busy morning of it. For bread had also to
+be made; and her small helpmate was good for only the simplest details
+of scrubbing and sweeping and washing dishes. It was with the greatest
+difficulty after all that Dolly coaxed her mother to come down to
+dinner; Nelly being left to keep watch the while and call them if
+anything was wanted.
+
+"I can't eat, Dolly!" Mrs. Copley said, when she was seated at Dolly's
+board.
+
+"Mother, it is necessary. See--this is what you like, and it is very
+good, I know. And these potatoes are excellent."
+
+"But, Dolly, he may be sick for weeks, for aught we can tell; it is a
+low fever. Oh, this is the worst of all we have had yet!" cried Mrs.
+Copley, wringing her hands.
+
+It did look so, and for a moment Dolly could not speak. Her heart
+seemed to stand still.
+
+"Mother, we don't know," she said. "We do not know anything. It may be
+no such matter; it may _not_ last so; the doctor cannot tell; and
+anyhow, mother, God does know and He will take care. We can trust Him,
+can't we? and meanwhile what you and I have to do is to keep up our
+strength and our faith and our spirits. Eat your dinner like a good
+woman. I am going to make a cup of tea for you. Perhaps father would
+take some."
+
+"And you," said Mrs. Copley, eyeing her. Dolly had a white kitchen
+apron on, it is true, but she was otherwise in perfect order and looked
+very lovely. "What about me?" she said.
+
+"Doing kitchen work! You, who are fit for--something so different!"
+Mrs. Copley had to get rid of some tears here.
+
+"Doing kitchen work? Yes, certainly, if that is the thing given me to
+do. Why not? Isn't my veal good? I'll do anything, mother, that comes
+to hand, provided I _can_ do it. Mother, we don't trust half enough.
+Remember who it is gives me the cooking to do. Shall I not do what He
+gives me? And I can tell you one little secret--I _like_ to do cooking.
+Isn't it good?"
+
+Mrs. Copley made a very respectable dinner after all.
+
+This was the manner of the beginning of Mr. Copley's illness. Faith and
+courage were well tried as the days went on; for though never violently
+ill, he never mended. Day and night the same tedious low fever held
+him, wearing down not his strength only but that of the two whose
+unaided hands had to manage all that was done. Dolly did not know where
+to look for a nurse, and Mrs. Copley was utterly unwilling to have one
+called in. She herself roused to the emergency and ceased to complain
+about her own troubles; she sat up night after night, with only partial
+help from Dolly, who had her hands full with the care of the house and
+the day duty and the sick cookery. And as day after day went by, and
+night after night was watched through, and days and nights began to run
+into weeks, the strength and nervous energy of them both began at times
+to fail. Neither showed it to the other, except as pale faces and weary
+eyes told their story. Mrs. Copley cried in secret, at night, with her
+head on the window-sill; and Dolly went with slow foot to gather her
+herbs and vegetables, and sat down sometimes in the porch, in the early
+dawn or the evening gloom, and allowed herself to own that things were
+looking very dark indeed. The question was, how long would it be
+possible to go on as they were doing? how long would strength hold
+out?--and money? The doctor's fees took great pinches out of Dolly's
+fund; and for the present there was no adding to it. Lady Brierley was
+away; she had gone to the seaside. Mrs. Jersey was very kind; fruit and
+eggs and vegetables came almost daily from the House to Dolly's help,
+and the kind housekeeper herself had offered to sit up with the sick
+man; but this offer was refused. Mr. Copley did not like to see any
+stranger about him. And Dolly and her mother were becoming now very
+tired. As the weeks went on, they ceased to look in each other's faces
+any more with questioning eyes; they knew too well how anxiety and
+effort had told upon both of them, and each was too conscious of what
+the other was thinking and fearing. They did not meet each other's eyes
+with those mute demands in them any more; but they stole stealthy
+glances sometimes each to see how the other face looked; what tokens of
+wear and tear it was showing; taking in at a rapid view the lines of
+weariness, the marks of anxiety, the faded colour, the languor of
+spirit which had gradually taken the place of the earlier energy. In
+word and action they showed none of all this. All the more, no doubt,
+when each was alone and the guard might be relaxed, a very grave and
+sorrowful expression took possession of their faces. Nothing else might
+be relaxed. Day and night the labour and the watch were unintermitting.
+
+And so the summer wore on to an end. Dolly was patient, but growing
+very sad; perhaps taking a wider view of things than her mother, who
+for the present was swallowed up in the one care about her husband's
+condition. Dolly, managing the finances and managing the household, had
+both parents to think of; and was sometimes almost in despair.
+
+She was sitting so one afternoon in the kitchen, in a little lull of
+work before it was time to get supper, looking out into the summer
+glow. It was warm in the small kitchen, but Dolly had not energy to go
+somewhere else for coolness. She sat gazing out, and almost querying
+whether all things were coming to an end at once; life and the means to
+live together, and the strength to get means. And yet she remembered
+that it is written--"Trust in the Lord, and do good; so shalt thou
+dwell in the land, and _verily thou shalt be fed_." But then,--it came
+cold into her heart,--it could not be said that her father and mother
+had ever fulfilled those conditions; could the promise be good for
+_her_ faith alone? And truly, where was Dolly's faith just now? Withal,
+as she sat gazing out of the window, she saw that full wealth of
+summer, which was a pledge and proof of the riches of the hand from
+which it came.
+
+"There's a gentleman, mum," Dolly's little helpmate announced in her
+ear. Dolly started.
+
+"A gentleman? what gentleman? It isn't the doctor? He has been here."
+
+"It's no him. I knows Dr. Hopley. It's no him."
+
+"I cannot see company. Is it company, Nelly?"
+
+"The gentleman didn't say, mum."
+
+"Where is he?"
+
+"He's a standin' there at the door."
+
+Dolly slowly rose up and doubtfully took off her great kitchen apron;
+doubtfully went upstairs. Perhaps she had better see who it was. Mrs.
+Jersey might have sent a messenger,--or Lady Brierley! She went on to
+the hall door, which was open, and where indeed she saw a tall figure
+against the summer glow which filled all out of doors. A tall figure, a
+tall, upright figure; at first Dolly could see only the silhouette of
+him against the warm outer light. She came doubtfully close up to the
+open door. Then she could see a little more besides the tallness; a
+peculiar uprightness of bearing, a manly, frank face, a head of close
+curling dark hair, and an expression of pleasant expectation; there was
+a half smile on the face, and a deferential look of waiting. He stood
+bareheaded before her, and had not the air of a stranger; but Dolly was
+quite bewildered. Somebody altogether strange, and yet somehow
+familiar. She said nothing; her eyes questioned why, being a stranger,
+he should stand there with such a look upon his face.
+
+"I am afraid I am not remembered," said the gentleman, with the smile
+coming out a little more. His look, too, was steady and straightforward
+and observant,--where had Dolly seen that mixture of quietness and
+resoluteness? Her eyes fell to the little cap in his hand, an officer's
+cap, and then light came into them.
+
+"Oh!" she cried,--"Mr. Shubrick!"
+
+"It is a long time since that Christmas Day at Rome," he said; a more
+wistful gravity coming into his face as he better scanned the face
+opposite to him, which the evening light revealed very fully.
+
+"Oh, I know now," said Dolly. "I do not need to be reminded; but I
+could not expect to see you here. I thought you were in the
+Mediterranean. Will you come in, Mr. Shubrick? I am very glad to see
+you; but my thoughts were so far away"----
+
+"You thought I was in the Mediterranean?" he said as he followed Dolly
+in. "May I ask, why?"
+
+"Your ship was there."
+
+"_Was_ there; but ships are not stationary things."
+
+"No, of course not," said Dolly, throwing open the blinds and letting
+the summer light and fragrance stream in. "Then, when did you see
+Christina?"
+
+"Not for months. The Red Chief has been ordered to the Baltic and is
+there now; and I got a furlough to come to England. But--how do you do,
+Miss Copley?"
+
+"I am well, thank you."
+
+"Forgive me for asking, if that information can be depended on?"
+
+"Yes, indeed I am well. I suppose I look tired. We have had sickness
+here for a good while--my father. Mother and I are tired, no doubt."
+
+"You look very tired. I am afraid I ought not to be here. Can you make
+me of use? What is the matter? Please remember that I am not a
+stranger."
+
+"I am very glad to remember it," said Dolly. "No, I do not feel as if
+you were a stranger, Mr. Shubrick, after that day we spent together.
+You asked what was the matter--oh, I don't know! a sort of slow,
+nervous fever, not infectious at all, nor very alarming; only it must
+be watched, and he always wants some one with him, and of course after
+a while one gets tired. That cannot be helped. We have managed very
+well."
+
+"Not Mrs. Copley and you alone?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"How long?"
+
+"It is five weeks now."
+
+"And no improvement yet?"
+
+"I do not know. Mother thinks a little," said Dolly, faltering. This
+speaking to eyes and ears of sympathy, after so long an interval,
+rather upset her; her lips trembled, tears came, she was upon the point
+of breaking down; she struggled for self-command, but her lips trembled
+more and more.
+
+"I have come in good time," said her visitor.
+
+"It is pleasant to see somebody, to be able to speak to somebody, that
+is so good as to care," said Dolly, brushing her hand over her eyes
+swiftly.
+
+"You are worn out," said the other gently. "I am not going to be simply
+somebody to speak to. Miss Copley, I am a countryman, and a sort of a
+friend, you know. You will let me take the watch to-night."
+
+"You!" said Dolly, starting. "Oh no!"
+
+"I beg your pardon. You ought to say 'Oh yes.' I have had experience. I
+think you may trust me."
+
+"Oh, I cannot. We have no right to let you do so."
+
+"You have a right to make any use of me you can; for I place myself at
+your disposal."
+
+"You are _very_ kind, Mr. Shubrick!"
+
+"Don't say anything more. That is settled," said he, taking up his cap,
+as if in preparation for departure. Dolly was a little bewildered by
+the quiet, decided manner, just like what she remembered of Mr.
+Shubrick; unobtrusive and undemonstrative, but if he moved, moving
+straight to his goal. She rose as he rose.
+
+"But," she stammered, "I don't think you can. Father likes nobody but
+mother and me about him."
+
+"He will like me to-morrow," Mr. Shubrick answered with a smile. "Don't
+fear; I will manage that."
+
+"You are very kind!" said Dolly. "You are very kind!"--Already her
+heart was leaping towards this offered help, and Mr. Shubrick looked so
+resolute and strong and ready; she could hardly oppose him. "But you
+are _too_ kind!" she said suddenly.
+
+"No," said he gravely; "that is impossible. Remember, in the family we
+belong to, the rule is one which we can never reach. 'That ye love one
+another, even as I have loved you.'"
+
+What it was, I do not know, in these words which overcame Dolly. In the
+words and the manner together. She was very tired and overstrung, and
+they found some unguarded spot and reached the strained nerves. Dolly
+put both hands to her face and burst into tears, and for a moment was
+terribly afraid that she was going to be hysterical. But that was not
+Dolly's way at all, and she made resolute fight against her nerves.
+Meanwhile, she felt herself taken hold of and placed in a chair by the
+window; and the sense that somebody was watching her and waiting,
+helped the return of self-control. With a sort of childish sob, Dolly
+presently took down her hands and looked up through the glistening
+tears at the young man standing over her.
+
+"There!" she said, forcing a smile on the lips that quivered,--"I am
+all right now. I do not know how I could be so foolish."
+
+"_I_ know," said Mr. Shubrick. "Then I will just return to the village
+for half and hour, and be back here as soon as possible."
+
+"But"--said Dolly doubtfully. "Why don't you send for what you want?"
+
+"Difficult," said the other. "I am going to get some supper."
+
+"Oh!" said Dolly. "If _that_ is what you want--sit down, Mr. Shubrick.
+Or send off your fly first, and then sit down. If you are going to stay
+here to-night, I'll give you your supper. Send away the fly, Mr.
+Shubrick, please!"
+
+"I do not think I can. And you cannot possibly do such a thing as you
+propose. I shall be back here in a very little time."
+
+Dolly put her hand upon Mr. Shubrick's cap and softly took it from him.
+
+"No," she said. "It's a bargain. If I let you do one thing, you must
+let me do the other. It would trouble me to have you go. It is too
+pleasant to see a friend here, to lose sight of him in this fashion.
+There will be supper, of some sort, and you shall have the best we can.
+Will you send away your fly, please, and sit down and wait for it?"
+
+If Dolly could not withstand him, so on this point there was no
+resisting her. Mr. Shubrick yielded to her evident urgent wish; and
+Dolly went back to her preparations. The question suddenly struck her,
+_where_ should she have supper? Down here in the kitchen? But to have
+it in order, upstairs, would involve a great deal more outlay of
+strength and trouble. The little maid could not set the table up there,
+and Dolly could not, with the stranger looking on. That would never do.
+She debated, and finally decided to put her pride in her pocket and
+bring her visitor down to the kitchen. It was not a bad place, and if
+he was going to be a third nurse in the house, it would be out of
+keeping to make any ceremony with him. Dolly's supper itself was
+faultless. She had some cold game, sent by Lady Brierley or by her
+order; she had fresh raspberries sent by Mrs. Jersey, and a salad of
+cresses. But Mrs. Copley would not be persuaded to make her appearance.
+She did not want to see strangers; she did not like to leave Mr.
+Copley; in short, she excused herself obstinately, to Dolly's distress.
+However, she made no objection to having Mr. Shubrick take her place
+for the night; and she promised Dolly that if she got a good night's
+sleep and was rested, she would appear at breakfast.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+THE NURSE.
+
+Dolly made her mother's excuses, which seemed to her visitor perfectly
+natural, and ushered him down to the supper laid in the little kitchen;
+Dolly explaining very simply that her mother and she had lived there
+since there had been sickness in the house, and had done so for want of
+hands to make other arrangements possible. And Mr. Shubrick seemed also
+to find it the most natural thing in the world to live in the kitchen,
+and for all that appeared, had never taken his meals anywhere else in
+his life. He did justice to the supper too, which was a great
+gratification to Dolly; and lifted the kettle for her from the hob when
+she wanted it, and took his place generally as if he were one of the
+family. As for Dolly, there came over her a most exquisite sense of
+relief; a glimpse of shelter and protection, the like of which she had
+not known since she could hardly remember when. True, it was transient;
+it could not abide; Mr. Shubrick was sitting there opposite her like
+some one that had fallen from the clouds, and whom mist and shadow
+would presently swallow up again; but in the meanwhile, what a gleam of
+light his presence brought! He would go soon again, of course; he must;
+but to have him there in the meantime was a momentary comfort
+unspeakable. More than momentary; he would stay all night. And her
+mother would get a night's sleep. For her own part, this feeling of
+rest was already as good as sleep. Yes, for once, for a little, a
+strong hand had come between her and her burdens. Dolly let herself
+rest upon it, with an intense appreciation of its strength and
+sufficiency.
+
+And so resting, she observed her new helper curiously. She noticed how
+entirely he was the same man she had seen that Christmas Day in Rome;
+the same here as there, with no difference at all. There was the calm
+of manner that had struck her then, along with the readiness for
+action; the combination was peculiar, and expressed in every turn of
+head and hand. Here, in a strange house, he was as absolutely at ease
+and unconstrained as if he had been on the quarterdeck of his own ship.
+Is it the habit of command? thought Dolly. But that does not
+necessarily give a man ease of manner in his intercourse with others
+who are not under his command. Meanwhile, Mr. Shubrick sat and talked,
+keeping up a gentle run of unexciting thoughts, and apparently as much
+at home in the kitchen of Brierley Cottage as if he had lived there
+always.
+
+"When have you seen Christina?" Dolly asked.
+
+"Not in some months."
+
+"Are they at Sorrento yet?"
+
+"No; they spent the winter in Rome, and this summer they are in
+Switzerland. I had a letter from Miss Thayer the other day. I mean, a
+few weeks ago."
+
+It occurred to Dolly that one or the other of them must be a slack
+correspondent.
+
+"I almost wonder they could leave Sorrento," she remarked.
+
+"They got tired of it."
+
+"I never get tired of lovely things," said Dolly. "The longer I know
+them the better pleasure I take in them. I could have stayed in Venice,
+it seemed to me, for years; and Rome--I should never have got away from
+Rome of my own accord, if duty had not made me; and then at Naples, I
+enjoyed it better the last day than the first. And Sorrento"----
+
+"What about Sorrento?"
+
+"Oh, it was--you know what Sorrento is. It was roses and myrtles and
+orange blossoms, and the fire of the pomegranate flowers and the grey
+of the olives; and the Italian sun, and the Italian air; and, Mr.
+Shubrick, you know what the Mediterranean is, with all its colours
+under the shadow of the cliffs and the sunlight on the open sea. And
+Vesuvius was always a delightful wonder to me. And the people were so
+nice. Sorrento is perfect." A soft breath of a sigh came from Dolly's
+heart.
+
+"You do not like England so well?"
+
+"No. Oh no! But I could like England. Mr. Shubrick, my time at Sorrento
+was almost without care; and you know that makes a difference."
+
+"Would you like to live without care?" said he.
+
+Dolly looked at him, the question seemed so strange. "Without anxious
+care--I should," she answered.
+
+"That you may, anywhere."
+
+"How is it possible, sometimes?" Dolly asked wistfully.
+
+"May I be Yankee enough to answer your question by another? Is it any
+relief to you to have me come in and take the watch for to-night?"
+
+"The greatest," said Dolly. "I cannot express to you how great it is;
+for mother and I have had it all to do for so long. I cannot tell you,
+Mr. Shubrick, in what a strange lull of rest I have been sitting here
+since we came downstairs. I have just let my hands fall."
+
+"How can you be sure it is safe to do that?" he said, smiling.
+
+"Oh," said Dolly, "I know you will take care; and while you do, I need
+not."
+
+Mr. Shubrick was silent. Dolly pondered.
+
+"Do I know what you mean?" she said.
+
+"I think you do," he replied. "Do you remember it is written,
+--'Casting your care upon Him, _for He careth for you_'?"
+
+"And that means, not to care myself?"
+
+"Not anxiously, or doubtfully. You cannot trust your care to another,
+and at the same time keep it yourself."
+
+"I know all that," said Dolly slowly; "or I thought I knew it. How is
+it, then, that it is so difficult to get the good of it?"
+
+"Was it very difficult to trust me?" Mr. Shubrick asked.
+
+"No," said Dolly, "because--you know you are not a stranger, Mr.
+Shubrick. I feel as if I knew you."
+
+He lifted his eyes and looked at her; not regarding the compliment to
+himself, but with a steady, keen eye carrying Dolly's own words home to
+her. He did not say a word; but Dolly changed colour.
+
+"Oh, do you mean _that?_" she cried, almost with tears. "Is it because
+I know Christ so poorly that I trust Him so slowly?"
+
+"What else can it be? And you know, Miss Dolly, just that absolute
+trust is the thing the Lord wants of us. And you know it is the thing
+of all others that we like from one another. We need not be surprised
+that He likes it; for we were made in His image."
+
+Dolly sat silent, struck and moved both with sorrow and gladness; for
+if it were possible so to lay down care, what more could burden her?
+and that she had not done it, testified to more strangeness and
+distance on her part towards her best Friend than she liked to think
+of. Her musings were interrupted by Mr. Shubrick.
+
+"Now may I be introduced to Mr. Copley?" he said.
+
+Dolly was rather doubtful about the success of this introduction.
+However, she brought her mother out of the sick-room, and took Mr.
+Shubrick in; and there, in obedience to his desire, left him, without
+an introduction; for her father was asleep.
+
+"He will never let him stay there, Dolly," said Mrs. Copley. "He will
+not bear it at all." And Dolly waited and feared and hoped. But the
+night drew on, and came down upon the world; Mrs. Copley went to bed,
+at Dolly's earnest suggestion, and was soon fast asleep, fatigue
+carrying it over anxiety; and Dolly watched and listened in vain for
+sounds of unrest from her father's room. None came; the house was
+still; the summer night was deliciously mild; Dolly's eyelids trembled
+and closed, and opened, and finally closed again, not to open till the
+summer morning was bright and the birds making a loud concert of their
+morning song.
+
+Mr. Shubrick, left alone with his patient, sat down and waited;
+reviewing meanwhile the room and his surroundings. It was a
+moderate-sized, neat, pretty room, with one window looking out upon the
+garden. The casement was two-leaved, and one leaf only was part open.
+The air consequently was close and hot. And if the room was neat, that
+applies only to its natural and normal condition; for if neatness
+includes tidiness, it could not be said at present to deserve that
+praise. There was an indescribable litter everywhere, such as is
+certain to accumulate in a sick-room if the watchers are not imbued
+with the spirit of order. Here were one or two spare pillows, on so
+many chairs; over the back of another chair hung Mr. Copley's
+dressing-gown; at a very unconnected distance from his slippers under a
+fourth chair. On still another chair lay a plate and knife with the
+remains of an orange; on the mantelpiece, the rest of the chairs, the
+tables, and even the floor, stood a miscellaneous assortment of cups,
+glasses, saucers, bottles, spoons, and pitchers, large and small,
+attached to as varied an assemblage of drinks and medicines. Only one
+medicine was to be given from time to time, Mr. Shubrick had been
+instructed; and that was marked, and he recognised it; what were all
+the rest of this assemblage doing here? Some books lay about also, and
+papers, and magazines; here a shawl, there some articles of female
+apparel; and a basket of feminine work. The litter was general, and
+somewhat disheartening to a lover of order; Mrs. Copley being one of
+those people who have nothing of the sort belonging to them, and indeed
+during the most of her life accustomed to have somebody else keep order
+for her; servants formerly, Dolly of late. Mr. Shubrick sat and looked
+at all these things, but made no movement, until by and by his patient
+awoke. It was long past sunset now, the room in partial twilight, yet
+illumination enough still reflected from a very bright sky for the two
+people there to see each what the other looked like. Mr. Copley used
+his eyes in this investigation for a few minutes in silence.
+
+"Who are you?" he inquired abruptly.
+
+"A friend."
+
+"What friend? You are a friend I don't know."
+
+"That is true; but it will not be true to-morrow," Mr. Shubrick said
+quietly.
+
+"What are you here for?"
+
+"To act the part of a friend, if you will allow me. I am here to wait
+upon you, Mr. Copley."
+
+"Thank you, I prefer my own people about me," said the sick man curtly.
+"You may go, and send them, or some of them, to me."
+
+"I cannot do that," said the stranger, "and you must put up with me for
+to-night. Mrs. Copley and your daughter are both very tired, and need
+rest."
+
+"Humph!" said the invalid with a surprised grunt. "Did _they_ send you
+here?"
+
+"No. They permitted me to come. I take it as a great privilege."
+
+"You take it before you have got it. I have not given my leave yet.
+What are you doing there?"
+
+"Letting some fresh air in for you." Mr. Shubrick was setting wide open
+both leaves of the casement.
+
+"You mustn't do that. The night air is not good for me. Shut the
+window."
+
+"You cannot have any air at night _but_ night air," replied Mr.
+Shubrick, uttering what a great authority has since spoken, and leaving
+the window wide open.
+
+"But night air is very bad. I don't want it; do you hear?"
+
+"If you will lie still a minute or two, you will begin to feel that it
+is very good. It is full of the breath of roses and mignonette, and a
+hundred other pleasant things."
+
+"But I tell you that's poison!" cried Mr. Copley, beginning to excite
+himself. "I choose to have the window shut; do you hear me, sir?
+Confound you, I want it shut!"
+
+The young man, without regarding this order, came to the bedside,
+lifted Mr. Copley's head and shook up his pillows and laid him
+comfortably down again.
+
+"Lie still," he said, "and be quiet. You are under orders, and I am in
+command here to-night. I am going to take care of you, and you have no
+need to think about it. Is that right?"
+
+"Yes," said the other, with another grunt half of astonishment and half
+of relief,--"that's right. But I want the window shut, I tell you."
+
+"Now you shall have your broth. It will be ready presently."
+
+"I don't want any broth!" said the sick man. "If you could get me a
+glass of wine;--_that_ would set me up. I'm tired to death of these
+confounded slops. They are nothing for a man to grow strong upon. Never
+would make a man strong--never!"
+
+Mr. Shubrick made no answer. He was going quietly about the room.
+
+"What are you doing?" said the other presently, watching him.
+
+"Making things ship-shape--clearing decks."
+
+"What do you know about clearing decks?" said Mr. Copley.
+
+"I will show you."
+
+And the sick man watched with languid amusement to see how, as his new
+nurse went from place to place, the look of the room changed. Shawls
+and clothing were folded up and bestowed on a chest of drawers;
+slippers were put ready for use at the bedside; books were laid
+together neatly on the table; and a small army of cups and glasses and
+empty vials were fairly marched out of the room. In a little while the
+apartment was in perfect order, and seemed half as large again. The
+invalid drew a long breath.
+
+"You're an odd one!" said he, when he caught Mr. Shubrick's eye again.
+"Where did you learn all that? and who are you? and how did you come
+here? I have a right to know."
+
+"You have a perfect right, and shall know all about me," was the
+answer; "but first, here is your broth, hot and good." (Mr. Shubrick
+had just received it from the little maid at the door). "Take this now,
+and to-morrow, if you behave well, you shall have something better."
+
+Mr. Copley suffered himself to be persuaded, took the broth, and then
+repeated his question.
+
+"I am Sandie Shubrick, lieutenant in the United States navy, on board
+ship 'The Red Chief;' just now on furlough, and in England."
+
+"What did you come to England for?"
+
+"Business and pleasure."
+
+"Which do you call this you are about now?"
+
+"Both," said Mr. Shubrick, smiling. "Now you may lie still, and keep
+the rest of your questions for another time."
+
+Mr. Copley yielded, and lay looking at his new attendant, till he dozed
+off into unconsciousness. Waking then after a while, hot and restless,
+his nurse brought water and a sponge and began sponging his face and
+neck and hands; gently and soothingly; and kept up the exercise until
+restlessness abated, breaths of satisfied content came at easy
+intervals; and finally Mr. Copley slumbered off peacefully, and knew no
+more. When he awoke the sun was shining on the oaks of Brierley Park.
+The window was open, as it had been all night, and by the window sat
+Mr. Shubrick, looking out. The sick man eyed him for a while.
+
+"Are you asleep there?" he said at last, growing impatient of the
+silence. Mr. Shubrick got up and came to him.
+
+"Good morning!" said he. "How have you rested?"
+
+"I believe it's the best night I've had yet. What were you doing to me
+in the night? using a sponge to me, weren't you? It put me to sleep. I
+believe it would cure a man of a fever, by Jupiter."
+
+"Not by Jupiter," said Mr. Shubrick. "And you must not say such things
+while I am here."
+
+"Why not?" Mr. Copley opened his eyes somewhat.
+
+"It is no better than counterfeit swearing."
+
+"Would you rather have the true thing?"
+
+"I never permit either, where I am in authority?"
+
+"Your authority can't reach far. You've got to take the world as you
+find it."
+
+"I dispute that. You've got to take the world and make it better."
+
+"What do you do where your authority is not sufficient?"
+
+"I go away."
+
+"Look here," said Mr. Copley. "Do you call yourself in authority
+_here?_"
+
+"Those are the only terms on which I could stay," said Mr. Shubrick,
+smiling.
+
+"Well, see," said the other,--"I wish you would stay. You've done me
+more good than all the doctor and everybody else before you."
+
+"I come after them all, remember."
+
+"I wish you had come before them. Women don't know anything. There's my
+wife,--she would have let the room get to be like a Jew's old clothes
+shop, and never be aware of it. I didn't know what was choking me so,
+and now I know it was the confusion. You belong to the navy?"
+
+"I told you so last evening," said Mr. Shubrick, who meanwhile was
+sponging Mr. Copley's face and hands again and putting him in order
+generally, so as a sick man's toilet might be made.
+
+"By Jupiter!--I beg your pardon--I believe I am going to get over this,
+after all," said Mr. Copley "I am sure I shall, if you'll stay and help
+me."
+
+"I will do it with pleasure. Now, what are you going to have for your
+breakfast?"
+
+"But, look here. Why should you stay with me? I am nothing to you.
+Who's to pay you for it?"
+
+"I do not come for pay; or rather, I get it as I go along. Make
+yourself easy, and tell me about your breakfast."
+
+"How do you come here? I don't know you. Who does know you?"
+
+"I have been a friend of your friends, Mr. and Mrs. Thayer, for many
+years."
+
+"Humph. Ah! Well. About breakfast, I don't know what they have got for
+me downstairs; some lolypop or other."
+
+"We'll do better for you than that," said Mr. Shubrick.
+
+The morning meanwhile had come to the other inmates of the house. Dolly
+had left the sofa where she had spent the night, with a glad
+consciousness that the night was over and there had been no
+disturbance. Her mother had slept all the night through and was
+sleeping yet. What refreshment and comfort it was. What strength and
+rest, to think of that kind, calm, strong, resolute man in her father's
+room; somebody that could be depended upon. Dolly thought Christina
+ought to be a happy woman, with always such a hand to support her all
+her life long. "And he drinks no wine," thought Dolly; "that temptation
+will never overtake him; she will never have to be ashamed of him. He
+will hold her up, and not she him. She is happy."
+
+The worst thing about Mr. Shubrick's coming was, that he must go away
+again! However, not yet; he would be seen at breakfast first; and to
+prepare breakfast was now Dolly's next care. Then she got her mother up
+and persuaded her to make herself nice and appear at the meal.
+
+"You are never going to bring him down into the kitchen?" said Mrs.
+Copley, horrified, when she got there.
+
+"Certainly, mother; it is no use trying to make a fuss. I cannot give
+him breakfast anywhere else."
+
+"Then I would let him go to the village, Dolly, and get his breakfast
+there."
+
+"But that would be very inhospitable. He was here at supper, mother; I
+don't think he was frightened. He knows just how we are situated."
+
+"He doesn't know you have nobody to help you, I hope?"
+
+"How could he help knowing it? The thing is patent. Never mind, mother;
+the breakfast will be good, if the breakfast-room is only so so. If you
+do not mind, nobody else will."
+
+"That you should come to this!" said Mrs. Copley, sinking into a chair.
+"My Dolly! Doing a servant's work, and for strangers, and nobody to
+help or care! And what are we coming to? I don't see, for my part. You
+are ruined."
+
+"Not yet," said Dolly cheerfully. "If I am, I do not feel like it. Now,
+mother, see if you can get Mr. Shubrick down here before my omelette is
+ruined; for that is the greatest danger just at present."
+
+It was not quite easy to get Mr. Shubrick down there, however; he
+demurred very seriously; and I am afraid the omelette was something the
+worse before he came. But then the breakfast was rather gay. The
+watcher reported a quiet night, and as he was much inclined to think,
+an amended patient.
+
+"Quiet!" echoed Mrs. Copley. "How could you keep him quiet?"
+
+"I suppose I imagined myself on board ship," said the young man,
+smiling, "and gave orders, as I am accustomed to do there. Habit is a
+great thing."
+
+"And Mr. Copley minded your orders?"
+
+"That is understood."
+
+"Well!" ejaculated Mrs. Copley. "He never would do the least thing I or
+Dolly wanted him to do; not the least thing. _He_ has been giving the
+orders all along; and as fidgetty as ever he could be. Fidgetty and
+nervous. Wasn't he fidgetty?"
+
+"No; very docile and peaceable."
+
+"You must be a wonderful man," said Mrs. Copley.
+
+"Habit," said Mr. Shubrick. "As I said, it is a great thing."
+
+"He has been having his own way all along," said Mrs. Copley; "and
+ordering us about, and doing just the things he ought not to do. He was
+always that way."
+
+"Not the proper way for a sick room," said Mr. Shubrick. "You had
+better install me as head nurse."
+
+How Dolly wished they could do that! As she saw him there at the table,
+with his quiet air of efficiency and strength, Dolly thought what a
+treasure he was in a sick house; how strong she felt while she knew he
+was near. Perhaps Mrs. Copley's thoughts took the same turn; she sighed
+a little as she spoke.
+
+"You have been very kind, Mr. Shubrick. We shall never forget it. You
+have been a great help. If Mr. Copley would only get better now"----
+
+"I am going to see him better before I go."
+
+"We could not ask any _more_ help of you."
+
+"You need not," and Mr. Shubrick smiled. "Mr. Copley has done me the
+honour to ask me."
+
+"Mr. Copley has asked you!" repeated Mrs. Copley in bewilderment.
+"What?"
+
+"Asked me to stay."
+
+"To stay and nurse him?"
+
+"Yes. And I said I would. You cannot turn me away after that."
+
+"But you have your own business in England," Dolly here put in.
+
+"This is it, I think."
+
+"Your own pleasure, then. You did not come to England for this."
+
+"It seems I did," he said. "I am off duty, Miss Dolly, I told you; here
+on furlough, to do what I like; and there is nothing else at present
+that I should like half so well."
+
+Dolly scored another private mark here to the account of Mr. Shubrick's
+goodness; and in the ease which suddenly came to her own mind, felt as
+if her head were growing light and giddy. But it was no illusion or
+dream. Mr. Shubrick was really there, finishing his breakfast, and
+really going to stay and take care of her father; and Dolly felt as if
+the tide of their affairs had turned.
+
+So indeed it proved. From that time Mr. Shubrick assumed the charge of
+the sick-room, by night and also by day. He went for a walk to the
+village sometimes, and always got his dinner there; the rest of the
+time he was at the cottage, attending to everything that concerned Mr.
+Copley. Dolly and her mother were quite put away from that care. And
+whether it were the moral force of character, which acted upon Mr.
+Copley, or whether it were that his disorder had really run its length
+and that a returning tide of health was coming back to its channels,
+the sick man certainly was better. He grew better from day to day. He
+had been quiet and manageable from the first in his new nurse's hands;
+now he began to take pleasure in his society, holding long talks with
+him on all possible subjects. Appetite mended also, and strength was
+gradually replacing weakness, which had been very great. Anxiety on the
+one score of her father's recovery was taken away from Dolly.
+
+Other anxieties remained, and even pressed harder, when the more
+immediately engrossing care was removed. In spite of Mr. Shubrick's
+lecture about casting off care, Dolly found it difficult to act upon
+the truth she knew. Her little fund of money was much reduced; she
+could not help asking herself how they were going to live? Would her
+father, as soon as he was strong enough, go back to his former ways and
+be taken up with his old companions? and if he did, how much longer
+could the little household at Brierley struggle on alone? What had
+become of all her father's property in America, from which in old time
+the income had always been more than sufficient for all their wants and
+desires? Was it gone irrevocably? or had only the ready money accruing
+from it been swallowed up in speculation or pleasure? And whence could
+Dolly get light on these points, or how know what steps she ought to
+take? Could her weakness do anything, in view of that fact to which her
+mother had alluded, that Mr. Copley always took his own way? It was all
+utter and dark confusion as she looked forward. Could Dolly trust and
+be quiet?
+
+In her meditations another subject occupied her a good deal. The
+presence of Sandie Shubrick was such a comfort that it was impossible
+not to think what she would do without him when he was gone. He was a
+universal comfort. Since he had taken charge of the sick-room, the
+sickness was disappearing; while he was in command, there was no
+rebellion; the affairs of the household worked smoothly, and Dolly had
+no need to draw a single long breath of perplexity or anxiety. The
+sound of that even, firm step on the gravel walk or in the hall, was a
+token of security; the sight of Mr. Shubrick's upright, alert figure
+anywhere was good for courage and hope. His resolute, calm face was a
+light in the house. Dolly's thoughts were much busied with him and with
+involuntary speculations about him and Christina. It was almost
+unavoidable. She thought, as indeed she had thought before, that Miss
+Thayer was a happy woman, to have so much strength and goodness
+belonging to her. What a shielded life hers would be, by this man's
+side. He would never neglect her or prefer his interests to hers; he
+would never give her cause to be ashamed of him; and here Dolly's lips
+sometimes quivered and a hot tear or two forced their way out from
+under her eyelids. And how could possibly Christina so play fast and
+loose with him, do dishonour to so much goodness, and put off her
+consent to his wishes until all grace was gone out of it? Mr. Shubrick
+apparently had made up his mind to this treatment and was not cast down
+by it; or perhaps would he, so self-reliant as he was, be cast down
+utterly by anything?
+
+I think perhaps Dolly thought too much about Mr. Shubrick. It was
+difficult to help it. He had brought such a change into her life; he
+was doing such a work in the house; he was so very pleasant a companion
+at those breakfasts and suppers in the kitchen. For his dinner Mr.
+Shubrick persisted in going to the village inn. He said the walk did
+him good. He had become in these few days quite as one of themselves.
+And now he would go. Mr. Copley was fast getting well, and his nurse
+would go. Dolly could not bear to think of it.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+UNDER AN OAK TREE.
+
+More than a week passed, and Mr. Copley was steadily convalescent. He
+had not left his room yet, but he needed no longer the steady
+attendance of some one bound to minister to his wants. Dolly was
+expecting now every day to hear Mr. Shubrick say he must bid them
+good-bye; and she took herself a little to task for caring so much
+about it. What was Sandie Shubrick to her, that she should feel such a
+heart-sinking at the prospect of his departure? It was a very wonderful
+thing that he, Christina Thayer's Mr. Shubrick, should have come to
+help this little family in its need; it was very astonishing that he
+should be there even then, waiting on Dolly Copley's sick father; let
+her be satisfied with this so unexpected good, and bid him farewell as
+easily as she had bid him welcome. But Dolly could not. How could she?
+she said to herself. And every time she saw Mr. Shubrick she feared
+lest the dreaded words would fall from his lips. So when he came to her
+one afternoon when she was sitting in the porch, her heart gave a throb
+of anticipation. However, he said nothing of going, but remarked how
+pretty the sloping ground looked, on the other side of the little
+river, with its giant trees and the sunlight streaming through the
+branches upon the greensward.
+
+"It is very pretty," said Dolly. "The park is beautiful. You ought to
+see it"--_before you go_, she was on the point of saying, but did not
+say.
+
+"Will you come with me, and show me what I ought to look at?"
+
+"Now?" said Dolly.
+
+"If it is not too warm for you. We might take it easily and keep in the
+shadow of the trees."
+
+"Oh, it is not too warm," said Dolly; and she ran to fetch her garden
+hat.
+
+It was not August now; the summer was past, yet the weather was fit for
+the height of summer. Warm, spicy, dry air, showing misty in the
+distance like a gossamer veil, and near by a still glow over
+everything. The two young people wandered over the bridge and slowly
+mounted the bank among the oaks and beeches, keeping in the shade as
+much as might be. There was a glorious play of shadow and sunlight all
+over the woodland; and the two went softly along, hardly disturbing the
+wild creatures that looked at them now and then. For the woods were
+full of life. They saw a hare cross an opening, and grey squirrels eyed
+them from the great oak branches overhead; and there was a soft hum of
+insects filling all the silence. It was not the time of day for the
+birds to be merry. Nor perhaps for the human creatures who slowly
+passed from tree to tree, avoiding the spaces of sunlight and summer
+glow. They were neither merry nor talked much.
+
+"This is very noble," said Sandie at last.
+
+"Were you ever in England before, Mr. Shubrick?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then you have seen many of these fine places already, perhaps?"
+
+"No, not many. My stay has been mostly in London; though I did run down
+a little into the country."
+
+"People say we have nothing like this in America."
+
+"True, I suppose," said Sandie. "We are too young a people, and we have
+had something else to do."
+
+"It is like a dream, that anybody should have such a house and such a
+place as Brierley," Dolly went on. "There is nothing wanting that one
+can imagine, for beauty and dignity and delight of living and luxury of
+ease. It might be the Arabian Nights, or fairyland. You must see the
+house, with its lovely old carvings, and pictures, and old, old
+furniture; and the arms of the family that built it carved and painted
+everywhere, on doors and chairs and mantelpieces."
+
+"Of the family that built it?" repeated Mr. Shubrick. "Not the family
+that owns it now?"
+
+"No. You see their arms too, but the others are the oldest. And then it
+would take you hours to go through the gardens. There are different
+gardens; one, most exquisite, framed in with trees, and a fountain in
+the middle, and all the beds filled with rare plants. But I do not like
+anything about the place better than these trees and greensward."
+
+"It must be a difficult thing," said Sandie meditatively, "to use it
+all for Christ."
+
+Dolly was silent a while. "I don't see how it _could_ be used so," she
+said.
+
+The other made no answer. They went slowly on and on, getting up to the
+higher ground and more level going, while the sun's rays coming a
+little more slant as the afternoon declined, gave an increasing
+picturesqueness to the scene. Mr. Shubrick had been for some time
+almost entirely silent, when Dolly proposed to stop and rest.
+
+"One enjoys it better so," she said. "One has better leisure to look.
+And I wanted to talk to you, besides."
+
+Her companion was very willing, and they took their places under a
+great oak, on the swell of greensward at the foot of it. Ground and
+grass and moss were all dry. Dolly sat down and laid off her hat;
+however, the proposed "talk" did not seem to be ready, and she let Mr.
+Shubrick wait.
+
+"I wanted to ask you something," said she at last. "I have been wanting
+to ask you something for a good while."
+
+There she stopped. She was not looking at him; she was taking care not
+to look at him; she was trying to regard Mr. Shubrick as a foreign
+abstraction. Seeing which, he began to look at her more persistently
+than hitherto.
+
+"What is it?" he asked, with not a little curiosity.
+
+"There is nobody else I can ask," Dolly went on; "and if you could give
+me the help I want, it would be a great thing for me."
+
+"I will if I can."
+
+The young man's eyes did not turn away now. And Dolly was an
+excessively pretty thing to look at; so taken up with her own thoughts
+that she was in no danger of finding out that she was an object of
+attention or perhaps admiration. Her companion perceived this, and
+indulged his eyes fearlessly. Dolly's fair, flushed face was thin with
+the work and the care of many weeks past; the traces of that were plain
+enough; yet it was delicately fair all the same, and perhaps more than
+ever, with the heightened spirituality of the expression. The writing
+on her features, of love and purity, habitual self-devotion and
+self-forgetfulness, patience and sweetness, was so plain and so
+unconscious, that it made her a very rare subject of contemplation,
+and, as her companion thought, extremely lovely. Her attitude spoke the
+same unconsciousness; her dress was of the simplest description; her
+brown hair was tossed into disorder; but dress and hair and attitude
+alike were deliciously graceful, with that mingling of characteristics
+of child and woman which was peculiar to Dolly. Lieutenant Shubrick was
+familiar with a very diverse type of womanly charms in the shape of his
+long-betrothed Miss Thayer. The comparison, or contrast, might be
+interesting; at any rate, any one who had eyes to read this type before
+him needed no contrast to make it delightful; and probably Mr. Shubrick
+had such eyes. He was quite silent, leaving Dolly to choose her time
+and her words at her own pleasure.
+
+"I know you will," she said slowly, taking up his last words;--"you
+have already; but I am a bad learner. You know what you said, Mr.
+Shubrick, the day you came, that evening when we were at supper,--about
+trusting, and not taking care?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Dolly did not look at him, and went on. "I do not find that I can do
+it."
+
+"Do what?"
+
+"Lay down care. Quite lay it down."
+
+"It is not easy," Mr. Shubrick admitted.
+
+"Is it possible, always? I find I can trust pretty well when I can see
+at least a possible way out of difficulties; but when the way seems all
+shut up, and no opening anywhere,--then--I do not quite lay down care.
+How can I?"
+
+"There is only one thing that can make it possible."
+
+"I know--you told me; but how then can I get that? I must be very far
+from the knowledge of Christ--if _that_ is what is wanting."
+
+Dolly's eyes filled with tears.
+
+"No," said Mr. Shubrick gently, "but perhaps it does follow, that you
+have not enough of that knowledge."
+
+"Of course. And how shall I get it? I can trust when I see some light,
+but when I can see none, I am afraid."
+
+"If I promised to take you home, I mean, to America, by ways known to
+me but unknown to you, could you trust me and take the steps I bade
+you."
+
+I am not justifying Mr. Shubrick. This was a kind of tentative speech
+for his own satisfaction; but he made it, watching for Dolly's answer
+the while. It came without hesitation.
+
+"Yes," she said. "I should believe you, if you told me so."
+
+"Yet in that case you would follow me blindly."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Seeing no light."
+
+"Yes. But then I know you enough to know that you would not promise
+what you would not do."
+
+"Thank you. This is by way of illustration. You would not be afraid?"
+
+"Not a bit. I see what you mean," said Dolly, colouring a little.
+
+"Do you think there is anything friends can give one another, so
+precious as such trust?"
+
+"No--I suppose not."
+
+"Is it wonderful, if the Lord wants it of His children?"
+
+"No. O Mr. Shubrick, I am ashamed of myself! What is the reason that I
+can give it to you, for instance, and not to Him? Is it just
+wickedness?"
+
+"It is rather, distance."
+
+"Distance! Then how shall I get near?"
+
+"Do you know what a question you are asking me? One of the grandest
+that a creature can ask. It is the question of questions. For, to get
+near, is to see the Lord's beauty; and to see Him is to love Him, and
+to love with that absolute confidence. 'Thou wilt keep Him in perfect
+peace whose mind is stayed on Thee.' And, 'This is life eternal, to
+know thee.'"
+
+"Then how, Mr. Shubrick?" said Dolly. "How is one to do?" She was
+almost tearful in her earnestness. But he spoke, earnestly enough, yet
+with a smile.
+
+"There are two sides to the question. On your side, you must do what
+you would do in any case where you wanted to cultivate a friendship.
+How would that be?"
+
+Dolly pondered. "I never put it so to myself," she said slowly, "and
+yet I suppose it must be so. Why, in any such case I should try to see
+a great deal of the person I wanted to make a friend of. I would be in
+the person's company, hear him talk, or hear her talk, if it was a
+woman; and talk to her. It would be the only way we could become known
+to each other."
+
+"Translate, now."
+
+"Translate?" said Dolly. "You mean,"----
+
+"Apply to the case in hand."
+
+"You mean," said Dolly, "that to study the Bible is to hear the Lord
+speak; and to pray, is to speak to Him."
+
+"To study the Bible with a heart ready to obey all it finds--_that_ is
+hearing the Lord speak; and if prayer is telling Him your thoughts and
+wishes in your own language, that is speaking to Him."
+
+"But it is speaking without an answer."
+
+"I beg your pardon. It is speaking without an audible answer; that is
+all."
+
+"Then how does the answer come?"
+
+"In receiving what you ask for; in finding what you seek."
+
+Dolly brushed away a tear again.
+
+"One needs to take a good deal of time for all that," she said
+presently.
+
+"Can you cultivate a friendship on any other terms?"
+
+"Perhaps not. This is quite a new view of the whole matter, Mr.
+Shubrick. To me."
+
+"Common sense. And Bible."
+
+"Does the Bible speak of it?"
+
+"The Bible speaks of the life of religion as contained in our knowing
+God and in His knowing us."
+
+"But He,--He knows everybody."
+
+"Not in this way. It is the sweet knowledge of intimate friendship and
+relations of affection. 'I know thee by name,' was one of the reasons
+given why the Lord would grant Moses' bold prayer. 'I have called thee
+by thy name, thou art Mine,' is the word to His people Israel. 'He
+calleth His own sheep by name,' you know it is said of the Good
+Shepherd. And 'they shall all know Me,' is the promise concerning the
+Church in Christ. While, you remember, the sentence of dismissal to the
+others will be simply, 'I know you not.' And, 'the Lord knoweth them
+that are His.'"
+
+There was silence; and then Dolly said, "You said there were two sides
+to the question."
+
+"Yes. Your part we have talked about; it is to study, and ask, and
+obey, and believe. The Lord's part is to reveal Himself to you. It is a
+matter of revelation. You cannot attain it by any efforts of your own,
+be they never so determinate. Therefore your prayer must be constantly
+like that of Moses--'I beseech thee, show me Thy glory.' And you see,
+that makes your part easy, because the other part is sure."
+
+"Mr. Shubrick, you are a very comforting talker!" said Dolly.
+
+"Nay, I am only repeating the Lord's words of comfort."
+
+"So I am to study, and yet study will not do it," said Dolly; "and I am
+to pray, and yet prayer will not give it."
+
+"Study will not do it, certainly. But when the Lord bestows His light,
+study becomes illumination. No, prayer does not give it, either; yet
+you must ask if yon would have. And Christ's promise to one who loves
+Him and keeps His commandments is,--you recollect it,--'I will love him
+_and will manifest Myself to him_.'"
+
+"That will do, Mr. Shubrick, thank you," said Dolly rising. "You need
+not say any more. I think I understand. And I am very much obliged to
+you."
+
+Mr. Shubrick made no answer. They went saunteringly along under the
+great trees, rather silent both of them after that. As the sun got
+lower the beauty of the wooded park ground grew more exceeding. All
+that a most noble growth of trees could show, scattered and grouped,
+all that a most lovely undulation of ground surface could give, in
+slope and vista and broken light and shadow, was gilded here and there
+with vivid gold, or filled elsewhere with a sunny, misty glow of
+vapourous rays, as if the air were streaming with gold dust among the
+trees. All tints and hues of greensward, moss, and fern, under all
+conditions of illumination, met their wondering eyes; and for a while
+there was little spoken but exclamations of delight and discussion of
+beautiful effects that came under review. They went on so, from point
+to point, by much the same way that Dolly had taken on her first visit
+to the park; till they came out as she had done from the thinner part
+of the woodland, and stood at the edge of the wide plain of open
+greensward which stretched on up to the House. Here they stood still.
+The low sun was shining over it all; the great groups of oaks and elms
+stood in full revealed beauty and majesty; and in the distance the
+House looked superbly down over the whole.
+
+"There is hardly anything about Brierley that I like better than this,"
+said Dolly. "Isn't it lovely? I always delight in this great slope of
+wavy green ground; and see how it is emphasised and set off by those
+magnificent trees? And the House looks better from nowhere than from
+here."
+
+"It is very noble--it is exceeding beautiful," Mr. Shubrick assented.
+
+"Now this, I suppose, one could not see in America," Dolly went on;
+"nor anything like it."
+
+"America has its own beauties; doubtless nothing like this. There is
+the dignity of many generations here. But, Miss Dolly, as I said
+before,--it would be difficult to use all this for Christ."
+
+"I do not see how it could be done," said Dolly. "Mr. Shubrick, I
+happen to know, it takes seven or eight thousand a year--or more--to
+keep the place up. Pounds sterling, I mean; not dollars. Merely to keep
+the establishment up and in order."
+
+"And yet, if I were its owner, I should find it hard to give up these
+ancestral acres and trees, or to cease to take care of them. I am glad
+I am a poor man!"
+
+"Give them up?" said Dolly. "Do you think _that_ would be duty?"
+
+"I do not know. How could I take seven or eight thousand pounds a year
+just to keep up all this magnificence, when the money is so wanted for
+the Lord's work, in so many ways? When it would do such great things,
+given to Him."
+
+"Then, Mr. Shubrick, the world must be very much mistaken in its
+calculations. People would not even understand you, if they heard you
+say that."
+
+"Do _you_ understand me?"
+
+"Oh yes. And yet I cannot tell you what delight I take in all this,
+every time I see it. The feeling of satisfaction seems to go to my very
+heart. And so when I am in the house,--and the gardens. Oh, you have
+not seen the gardens, nor the House either; and there is no time
+to-day. But I do not know that I enjoy anything much more than this
+view. Though the House is delicious, Mr. Shubrick."
+
+"I can believe it," he said, smiling. "You see what reason I have to
+rejoice that I am a poor man."
+
+Dolly thought, poor child, as they turned and went homeward, she could
+hardly go so far as to rejoice that she was a poor woman. Not that she
+wanted Brierley; but she did dread possible privation which seemed to
+be before her. She feared the uncertainty which lay over her future in
+regard to the very necessaries of life; she shrank a little from the
+difficulty and the struggle of existence, which she knew already by
+experience. And then, Mr. Shubrick, who had been such a help and had
+made such a temporary diversion of her troubled thoughts, would be soon
+far away; she had noticed that he did not speak of some other future
+opportunity of seeing the house and gardens, when she remarked that it
+was too late to-day. He would be going soon; this one walk with him was
+probably the last; and then the old times would set in again. Dolly
+went along down among the great oaks and beeches, down the bank now
+getting in shadow, and spoke hardly a word. And Mr. Shubrick was as
+silent as she, probably as busy with his own thoughts. So they went,
+until they came again in sight of the bridge and the little river down
+below them, and a few steps more would have brought the cottage into
+view.
+
+"We have come home fast," said Mr. Shubrick. "Do you think we need go
+in and show ourselves quite yet? Suppose we sit down here under this
+tree for a few minutes again, and enjoy all we can."
+
+Dolly knew it must be approaching the time for her to see about supper;
+but she could not withstand the proposal. She sat down silently and
+took off her hat to cool herself.
+
+"I come here very often," she said, "to get a little refreshment. It is
+so pleasant, and so near home."
+
+"You call Brierley 'home.' Have you accepted it as a permanent home?"
+
+"What can we do?" said Dolly. "Mother and I long to go back to
+America--we cannot persuade father."
+
+"Miss Dolly, will you excuse me for remarking that you wear a very
+peculiar watch-chain," Mr. Shubrick said next, somewhat irrelevantly.
+
+"My watch-chain! Oh, yes, I know it is peculiar," said Dolly. "For
+anything I know, there is only one in the world."
+
+"May I ask, whose manufacture it is?"
+
+"It was made by somebody--a sort of a friend, and yet not a friend
+either--somebody I shall never see again."
+
+"Ah? How is that?"
+
+"It is a great while ago," said Dolly. "I was a little girl. At that
+time I was at school in Philadelphia, and staying with my aunt there. O
+Aunt Hal! how I would like to see her!--The girls were all taken one
+day to see a man-of-war lying in the river; our schoolmistress took us;
+it was her way to take us to see things on the holidays; and this time
+it was a man-of-war; a beautiful ship; the 'Achilles.' My chain is made
+out of some threads of a cable on board the 'Achilles.'"
+
+"You did not make it?"
+
+"No, indeed. I could not, nor anybody else that I know. The manufacture
+is exquisite. Look at it," said Dolly, putting chain and watch in Mr.
+Shubrick's hand.
+
+"But somebody must have made it," said the young officer, examining the
+chain attentively.
+
+"Yes. It was odd enough. The others were having lunch; I could not get
+into the little cabin where the table was set, the place was so full;
+and so I wandered away to look at things. I had not seen them half
+enough, and then one of the young officers of the ship found me--he was
+a midshipman, I believe--and he was very good to me. He took me up and
+down and round and about; and then I was trying to get a little bit of
+a piece off a cable that lay coiled up on the deck and could not, and
+he said he would send me a piece; and he sent me that."
+
+"Seems strong," said Mr. Shubrick, still examining the chain.
+
+"Oh, it is very strong."
+
+"This is a nice little watch. Deserves a better thing to carry it."
+
+"Better!" cried Dolly, stretching out her hand for the chain. "You do
+not appreciate it. I like this better than any other. I always wear
+this. Father gave me a very handsome gold chain; he was of your
+opinion; but I have never had it on. This is my cable." She slipped the
+chain over her neck as she spoke.
+
+"What makes you think you will never see the maker of the cable again?"
+
+"Oh, that is a part of the story I did not tell you. With the chain
+came a little note, asking me to say that I had received it, and signed
+'A. Crowninshield.' I can show you the note. I have it in my work-box
+at home. Do you know anybody of that name in the navy, Mr. Shubrick?"
+
+"Midshipman?"
+
+"He might not be a midshipman now, you know. That is nine years ago."
+
+"True. I do not know of a Lieutenant Crowninshield in the navy--and I
+am sure there is no captain of that name."
+
+"That is what I thought," said Dolly. "I do not believe he is alive.
+Whenever I saw in the papers mention of a ship of the navy in port, I
+used to go carefully over the lists of her officers; but I never could
+find the name of Crowninshield."
+
+Mr. Shubrick here produced his pocket-book, and after some opening of
+inner compartments, took out a small note, which he delivered to Dolly.
+Dolly handled it at first in blank surprise, turned it over and over,
+finally opened it.
+
+"Why, this is my note!" she cried, very much confounded. "My own little
+note to that midshipman. Here is my name. And here is his name. How did
+you get it, Mr. Shubrick?" she asked, looking at him. But his face told
+her nothing.
+
+"It was given to me," he said.
+
+"By whom?"
+
+"By the messenger that brought it from you."
+
+"The messenger? But you you--you--are somebody else!"
+
+Mr. Shubrick laughed out.
+
+"Am I?" said he. "Well, perhaps,--though I think not."
+
+"But you are not that midshipman?"
+
+"No. I was he, though."
+
+"Your name,--your name is not Crowninshield?"
+
+"Yes. That is one of my names. Alexander Crowninshield Shubrick, at
+your service."
+
+Dolly looked at him, like a person awake from a dream, trying to read
+some of the remembered lineaments of that midshipman in his face. He
+bore her examination very coolly.
+
+"Why--Oh, is it possible you are he?" cried Dolly with an odd accent of
+almost disappointment, which struck Mr. Shubrick, but was inexplicable.
+"Why did you not sign your true name?"
+
+"Excuse me. I signed my true name, as far as it went."
+
+"But not the whole of it. Why didn't you?"
+
+"I had a reason. I did not wish you to trace me."
+
+"But please, why not, Mr. Shubrick?"
+
+"We might say, it was a boy's folly."
+
+"I shall not say so," said Dolly, tendering the note back. "I daresay
+you had some reason or other. But I cannot somehow get my brain out of
+a whirl. I thought you were somebody else!--Here is your note, Mr.
+Shubrick. I cannot imagine what made you keep it so long."
+
+His hand did not move to receive the note.
+
+"I have been keeping it for this time," he answered. "And now, I do not
+want to keep it any longer, Miss Dolly, unless--unless I may have you
+too."
+
+Dolly looked at him now with a face of startled inquiry and uneasiness.
+Whether she were more startled or incredulous of what she heard, it
+would be impossible to say. The expression in her eyes grew to be
+almost terror. But Mr. Shubrick smiled a little as he met them.
+
+"I kept the note, for I always knew, from that time, that I should
+marry that little girl, if ever I could find her,--and if she would let
+me."
+
+Dolly's face was fairly blanched. "But--you belong to somebody else,"
+she said.
+
+"No," said he,--"I beg your pardon. I belong to nobody in the world,
+but myself. And you."
+
+"Christina told me"----
+
+"She told you true," said Mr. Shubrick quite composedly. "There was a
+connection subsisting between us, which, while it lasted, bound us to
+each other. It happened, as such things happen; years ago we were
+thrown into each other's company, in the country, when I was home on
+leave. My home was near hers; we saw a great deal of each other; and
+fancied that we liked each other more than the fact was, or rather in a
+different way. So we were engaged; on my part it was one of those
+boyish engagements which boys frequently form before they know their
+own minds, or what they want. On the other side you can see how it was
+from the circumstances of the case. Christina did not care enough about
+me to want to be married; she always put it off; and I was not deeply
+enough concerned to find the delay very hard to bear. And then, when I
+saw you in Rome that Christmas time, I knew immediately that if ever in
+the world I married anybody, it would be the lady that wore that chain."
+
+"But Christina?" said Dolly, still with a face of terrified trouble.
+Was then Mr. Shubrick a traitor, false to his engagements, deserting a
+person to whom, whether willingly or not, he was every way bound? He
+did not look like a man conscious of dishonourable dealing, of any
+sort; and he answered in a voice that was both calm and unconcerned.
+
+"Christina and I are good friends, but not engaged friends any more.
+Will you read that?"
+
+He handed Dolly another letter as he spoke, and Dolly, bewildered,
+opened it.
+
+
+"Ischl, _May_ 6, 18--.
+
+"DEAR SANDIE,--"You are quite ridiculous to want me to write this
+letter, for anybody that knows you, knows that whatever you say is the
+truth, absolutely unmixed and unvarnished. Your word is enough for any
+statement of facts, without mine to help it. However, since you will
+have it so, here I am writing.
+
+"But really it is very awkward. What do you wish me to say, and how
+shall I say it? You want a testimony, I suppose. Well, then, this is to
+certify, that you and I are the best friends in the world, and mean to
+remain so, in spite of the fact that we once meant to be more than
+friends, and have found out that we made a mistake. Yes, it was a
+mistake. We both know it now. But anybody may be mistaken; it is no
+shame, either to you or me, especially since we have remedied the error
+after we discovered it. Really, I am in admiration of our
+clear-sightedness and bravery, in breaking loose, in despite of the
+trammels of conventionality. But you never were bound by those
+trammels, or any other, except what you call 'duty.' So I herewith
+declare you free,--that is what you want me to say, is it not?--free
+with all the honours, and with the full preservation of my regards and
+high consideration. Indeed, I do not believe I ever shall hold anybody
+else in _quite_ such high consideration; but perhaps that very fact
+made me unfit to be anything but your friend. I am afraid you are too
+good for me, in stern earnest; but I have a notion that will be no
+disadvantage to you in certain other sweet eyes that I know; the
+goodness, I mean, not anything else.
+
+"We are here, at this loveliest of lovely places; but we have got
+enough of it, and are going to spend some weeks in the Tyrol. I suppose
+I know where to imagine _you_, at least part of the summer. And you
+will know where to imagine me next winter, when I tell you that in the
+fall the probability is that I shall become Mrs. St. Leger. You may
+tell Dolly. Didn't I remark to her once that she and I had better
+effect an exchange? Funny, wasn't it? However, for the present I am, as
+I have long been, your very sincere friend, CHRISTINA THAYER."
+
+
+Dolly read the letter and stared at it, and finally returned it without
+raising her eyes. And then she sat looking straight before her, while
+her face might be likened to the evening sky when the afterglow is
+catching the clouds. From point to point the flush catches, cloud after
+cloud is lighted up, until under the whole heaven there is one crimson
+glow. Dolly was not much given to blushing, she was not at all wont to
+be a prey to shyness; what had come over her now? When Lawrence St.
+Leger had talked to her on this very same subject, she had been able to
+answer him with scarcely a rise of colour in her cheeks; with a calm
+and cool exercise of her reasoning powers, which left her fully
+mistress of the situation and of herself. She had not been disturbed
+then, she had not been excited. What was the matter now? For Dolly was
+overtaken by an invincible fit of shyness, such as never had visited
+her in all her life. I do not think now she knew that she was blushing;
+according to her custom, she was not self-conscious; what she was
+conscious of, intensely, was Mr. Shubrick's presence, and an
+overwhelming sense of his identity with the midshipman of the
+"Achilles." What _that_ had to do with Dolly's shyness, it might be
+hard to tell; but her sweet face flushed till brow and neck caught the
+tinge, and the eyelids fell over the eyes, and Dolly for the moment was
+mistress of nothing. Mr. Shubrick looking at her, and seeing those
+lovely flushes and her absolute gravity and silence, was in doubt what
+it might mean. He thought that perhaps nobody had ever spoken to her on
+such a subject before; yet Dolly was no silly girl, to be overcome by
+the mere strangeness of his words. Did her silence and gravity augur
+ill for him? or well? And then, without being in the least a coxcomb,
+it occurred to him that her excessive blushing told on the hopeful side
+of the account. He waited. He saw she was as shy as a just caught bird;
+was she caught? He would not make so much as a movement to startle her
+further. He waited, with something at his heart which made it easier
+every moment for him to wait. But in the nature of the case, waiting
+has its limits.
+
+"What are you going to do about it?" he inquired at length, in a very
+gentle manner. "Give me my note back again, with the conditions?"
+
+Dolly did nothing of the kind. She held the note, it is true, and
+looked at it, but without making any movement to restore it to its
+owner. So decided an action did not seem at the moment possible to her.
+She looked at the little note, with the prettiest sort of
+embarrassment, and presently rose to her feet. "I am sure it is time to
+have supper," she said, "and they cannot do anything at home till I
+come."
+
+Mr. Shubrick rose too and followed Dolly, who set off unceremoniously
+down the bank towards the bridge. He followed her, half smiling, and
+wholly impatient. Yet though a stride or two would have brought him
+alongside of her, he would not make them. He kept behind, and allowed
+her to trip on before him, which she did with a light, hasty foot,
+until they neared the little gate of the courtyard belonging to the
+house. Then he stepped forward and held the gate open for her to enter,
+not saying a word. Dolly passed him with the loveliest shy down-casting
+of her eyelids, and went on straight into the house. He saw the bird
+was fluttering yet, but he thought he was sure of her.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+UNDER THE SAME OAK.
+
+Dolly threw off her hat and went down to the kitchen premises. Mr.
+Shubrick repaired to the sick-room and relieved Mrs. Copley. That lady,
+descending to the lower part of the house, found Dolly very busy with
+the supper-table, and apparently much flushed with the hot weather.
+
+"Your father's getting well!" she said with a sigh.
+
+"That's good news, I am sure, mother."
+
+"Yes,--it's good news," Mrs. Copley repeated doubtfully; "but it seems
+as if everything good in this world had a bad side to it."
+
+Dolly stood still. "What's the matter?" she said.
+
+"Oh, he's so uneasy. As restless end fidgetty as a fish out of water.
+He is contented with nothing except when Mr. Shubrick is near him; he
+behaves quietly then, at least, however he feels. I believe it takes a
+man to manage a man. Though I never saw a man before that could manage
+your father. _He_ laughs at it, and says it is the habit of giving
+orders."
+
+"Who laughs at it?"
+
+"Mr. Shubrick, to be sure. You don't suppose your father owns to
+minding orders? But he does mind, for all that. What will become of us
+when that young man goes away?"
+
+"Why, mother?"
+
+"My patience, Dolly! what have you done to heat yourself so! Your face
+is all flushed. Do keep away from the fire, or you'll certainly spoil
+your complexion. You're all flushed up, child."
+
+"But father,--what about father?"
+
+"Oh, he's just getting ready to take his own head, as soon as Mr.
+Shubrick slips the bridle off. He's talking of going up to town
+already; and he will go, I know, as soon as he _can_ go; and then,
+Dolly, then--I don't know what will become of us!"
+
+Mrs. Copley put her hands over her face, and the last words were spoken
+with such an accent of forlorn despair, that Dolly saw her mother must
+have found out or divined much that she had tried to keep from her. She
+hesitated with her answer. Somehow, the despair and the forlornness had
+gone out of Dolly's heart.
+
+"I hope--I think--there will be some help, mother."
+
+"Where is it to come from?" said Mrs. Copley sharply. "We are as alone
+as we can be. We might as well be on a desert island. Now you have sent
+off Mr. St. Leger--oh, how obstinate children are! and how little they
+know what is for their good!"
+
+This subject was threadbare. Dolly let it drop. It may be said she did
+that with every subject that was started that evening. Mr. Shubrick at
+supper made brave efforts to keep the talk a going; but it would not
+go. Dolly said nothing; and Mrs. Copley in the best of times was never
+much help in a conversation. Just now she had rather a preoccupied
+manner; and I am by no means certain that, with the superhuman keenness
+of intuition possessed by mothers, she had not begun to discern a
+subtle danger in the air. The pressure of one fear being removed, there
+was leisure for any other to come up. However, Mr. Shubrick concerned
+himself only about Dolly's silence, and watched her to find out what it
+meant. She attended to all her duties, even to taking care of him,
+which to be sure was one of her duties; but she never looked at him.
+The same veil of shy grace which had fallen upon her in the wood, was
+around her still, and tantalised him.
+
+Nor did he get another chance to speak to her alone through the next
+two days that passed; carefully as he sought for it. Dolly was not to
+be found or met with, unless sitting at the table behind her tea-urn
+and with her mother opposite. Mr. Shubrick bided his time in a mixture
+of patience and impatience. The latter needs no accounting for; the
+former was half brought about and maintained by the exquisite manner of
+Dolly's presentation of herself those days. The delicate, coy grace
+which invested her, it is difficult to describe it or the effect of it.
+She was not awkward, she was not even embarrassed, the least bit in the
+world; she was grave and fair and unapproachable, with the rarest
+maidenly shyness, which took the form of the rarest womanly dignity.
+She was grave, at least when Mr. Shubrick saw her; but watching her as
+he did narrowly and constantly, he could perceive now and then a slight
+break in the gravity of her looks, which made his heart bound with a
+great thrill. It was not so much a smile as a light upon her lips; a
+play of them; which he persuaded himself was not unhappy. The
+loveliness of the whole manifestation of Dolly during those two days,
+went a good way towards keeping him quiet; but naturally it worked two
+ways. And human patience has limits.
+
+The second day, Mr. Shubrick's had given out. He came in from his walk
+to the village, bringing Mrs. Copley something she had commissioned him
+to get from thence; and found both ladies sitting at a late dinner. And
+not the young officer's eyes alone marked the sudden flush which rose
+in Dolly's cheeks when he appeared, and the lowered eyelids as he stood
+opposite her.
+
+"We began to review the park, the other day," he said, eyeing her
+steadily. "Can we have another walk in it this afternoon, Miss Dolly?
+The first was so pleasant."
+
+"I shouldn't think you'd go pleasuring just now, Dolly, when your
+father wants you," said Mrs. Copley. "You have seen hardly anything of
+him lately. I should think you would go and sit with him this
+afternoon. I know he would like it."
+
+Whether this arrangement was agreeable to the present parties
+concerned, or either of them, did not appear. Of course the most
+decorous acquiescence was all that came to light. A little later, Mr.
+Shubrick himself, being thus relieved from duty, quitted the house and
+strolled down to the bridge and over it into the park; and Dolly slowly
+went upstairs to her father's room. It was true, she had been there
+lately less than usual; but there had been a reason for that. Her
+conscience was not charged with any neglect.
+
+Mr. Copley seemed sleepily inclined; and after a word or two exchanged
+with him Dolly began to go round the room, looking to see if anything
+needed her ordering hand. Truly she found nothing. Coming to the
+window, she paused a moment in idle wistfulness to see how the summer
+sunshine lay upon the oaks of the park. And standing there, she saw Mr.
+Shubrick, slowly going over the bridge. She turned away and went on
+with her progress round the room.
+
+"What are you about there, Dolly?" Mr. Copley called to her.
+
+"Just seeing if anything wants my attention, father."
+
+"Nothing does, I can tell you. The room is all right, and everything in
+it. I've been kept in order, since I have had a naval officer to attend
+upon me."
+
+"Don't I keep things in order, father?"
+
+"If you do, your mother don't. She thinks that anywhere is a place, and
+that one place is as good as another."
+
+"Mother seems to think I have neglected you lately. Have you missed me?"
+
+"Missed you! no. I have had care and company. Where did you pick up
+that young man, Dolly?"
+
+"I, father? I didn't pick him up."
+
+"How came he here, then? What brought him?"
+
+"I don't know," said Dolly. "Would you like to have me read to you?"
+
+"No, child. Shubrick reads to me and talks to me. He's capital company,
+though he's one of your blue sort."
+
+"Father! He is not blue, nor am I. Do you think I am blue?"
+
+"Sky blue," said her father. "He's navy blue. That's the difference."
+
+"I do not understand the difference," said Dolly, half laughing.
+
+"Never mind. What have you done with Mr. Shubrick?"
+
+"I?" said Dolly, aghast.
+
+"Yes. Where is he?"
+
+"Oh!--I believe, mother sent him into the park."
+
+"Sent him into the park? What for?"
+
+"I do not mean that she sent him," said Dolly, correcting herself in
+some embarrassment; "I mean, that she sent me up here, and he went into
+the park."
+
+"I wish he'd come back, then. I want him to finish reading to me that
+capital article on English and European politics."
+
+"Can I finish it?"
+
+"No, child. You don't understand anything about the subject. Shubrick
+does. I like to discuss things with him; he's got a clear head of his
+own; he's a capital talker. When is he going?"
+
+"Going where, father?"
+
+"Going away. He can't stay here for ever, reading politics and putting
+my room in order. How long is he going to stay?"
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"Well--when he goes I shall go! I shall not be able to hold out here. I
+shall go back to London. I can't live where there is not a man to speak
+to some time in the twenty-four hours. Besides, I can do nothing here.
+I might as well be a cabbage, and a cabbage without a head to it."
+
+"Are we cabbages?" asked Dolly at this. "Mother and I?"
+
+"Cabbage roses, my dear; cabbage roses. Nothing worse than that."
+
+"But even cabbage roses, father, want somebody to take care of them."
+
+"I'll take care of you. But I can do it best in London."
+
+"Then you do not want me to read to you father?" Dolly said after a
+pause.
+
+"No, my dear, no, my dear. If you could find that fellow Shubrick--I
+should like him."
+
+And Mr. Copley closed his eyes as if to sleep, finding nothing worthy
+to occupy his waking faculties. Dolly sat by the window, looking out
+and meditating. Yes, Mr. Shubrick would be going away, probably soon;
+his furlough could not last always. Meanwhile, she had given him no
+answer to his questions and propositions. It was rather hard upon him,
+Dolly felt; and she had a sort of yearning sympathy towards her suitor.
+A little impatience seized her at being shut up here in her father's
+room, where he did not want her, and kept from the walk in the park
+with Mr. Shubrick, who did want her. He wanted her very much, Dolly
+knew; he had been waiting patiently, and she had disappointed every
+effort he made to get speech of her and see her alone, just because she
+was shy of him and of herself. But it was hardly fair to him, after
+all, and it could not go on. He had a right to know what she would say
+to his proposition; and she was keeping him in uneasiness, (to put it
+mildly), Dolly knew quite well. And now, when could she see him? when
+would she have a chance to speak to him alone, and to hear all that she
+yet wanted to hear? but indeed Dolly now was thinking not so much of
+what she wanted as of what _he_ wanted; and her uneasiness grew. He
+might be obliged to go off suddenly; officers' orders are stubborn
+things; she might have no chance at all, for aught she knew, after this
+afternoon. She looked at her father; he had dozed off. She looked out
+of the window; the afternoon sun, sinking away in the west, was sending
+a flood of warm light upon and among the trees of the park. It must be
+wonderfully pretty there! It must be vastly pleasant there! And there,
+perhaps, Mr. Shubrick was sitting at this moment on the bank, wishing
+for her, and feeling impatiently that his free time was slipping away.
+Dolly's heart stirred uneasily. She had been very shy of him; she was
+yet; but now she felt that he had a right to his answer. Something that
+took the guise of conscience opposed her shy reserve and fought with
+it. Mr. Shubrick had a _right_ to his answer; and she was not treating
+him well to let him go without it.
+
+Dolly looked again at her father. Eyes closed, breathing indicative of
+gentle slumber. She looked again over at the sunlit park. It was
+delicious over there, among its sunny and shadowy glades. Perhaps Mr.
+Shubrick had walked on, tempted by the beauty, and was now at a
+distance; perhaps he had not been tempted, and was still near, up there
+among the trees, wanting to see her.
+
+Dolly turned away from the window and with a quick step went
+downstairs. She met nobody. Her straw flat was on the hall table; she
+took it up and went out; through the garden, down to the bridge, over
+the bridge, with a step not swift but steady. Mr. Shubrick had a right
+to his answer, and she was simply doing what was his due, and there
+might be no time to lose. She went a little more slowly when she found
+herself in the park; and she trembled a little as her eye searched the
+grassy openings. She was not quite so confident here. But she went on.
+
+She had not gone very far before she saw him; under the same oak where
+they had sat together; lying on his elbow on the turf and reading.
+Dolly started, but then advanced slowly, after that one minute's check
+and pause. He was reading; he did not see her, and he did not hear her
+light footstep coming up the bank; until her figure threw a shadow
+which reached him. Then he looked up and sprang up; and perhaps
+divining it, met Dolly's hesitation, for, taking her hands he placed
+her on the bank beside his open book; which book, Dolly saw, was his
+Bible. But her shyness had all come back. The impression made by the
+thought of a person, when you do not see him, is something quite
+different from the living and breathing flesh and blood personality.
+Mr. Shubrick, on the other hand, was in a widely different mood; which
+Dolly knew, I suppose, though she could not see.
+
+"This is unlooked-for happiness," said he, throwing himself down on the
+bank beside her. "What have you done with Mr. Copley?"
+
+"Nothing. He did not want me. He asked me what I had done with Mr.
+Shubrick? I think you have spoiled him." Dolly spoke without looking at
+her companion, be it understood, and her breath came a little short.
+
+"And what are you going to do with Mr. Shubrick?" her companion said,
+not in the tone of a doubtful man, lying there on the bank and watching
+her.
+
+But Dolly found no words. She could not say anything, well though she
+recognised Mr. Shubrick's right to have his answer. Her eyes were
+absolutely cast down; the colour on her cheek varied a little, yet not
+with the overwhelming flushes of the other day. Dolly was struggling
+with the sense of duty, the necessity for action, and yet she could not
+act. She had come to the scene of action, indeed, and there her bravery
+failed her; and she sat with those delicate lights coming and going on
+her cheek, and the brown eyes hidden behind the sweep of the lowered
+eyelashes; most like a shy child. Mr. Shubrick could have smiled, but
+he kept back the smile.
+
+"You know," he said in calm, matter-of-fact tones, that met Dolly's
+sense of business, "my action must wait upon your decision. If you do
+not let me stay, I must go, and that at once. What do you want me to
+do?"
+
+"I do not want you to go," Dolly breathed softly.
+
+Silently Mr. Shubrick held out his hand. As silently, though frankly,
+Dolly put hers into it. Still she did not look at him. And he
+recognised what sort of a creature he was dealing with, and had sense
+and delicacy and tact and manliness enough not to startle her by any
+demonstration whatever. He only held the little hand, still and fast,
+for a space, during which neither of them said anything; then, however,
+he bent his head over the hand and kissed it.
+
+"My fingers are not accustomed to such treatment," said Dolly, half
+laughing, and trying hard to strike into an ordinary tone of
+conversation, though she left him the hand.  "I do not think they ever
+were kissed before."
+
+"They have got to learn!" said her companion.
+
+Dolly was silent again. It was with a great joy at her heart that she
+felt her hand so clasped and held, and knew that Mr. Shubrick had got
+his answer and the thing was done; but she did not show it, unless to a
+nice observer. And a nice observer was by her side. Yet he kept silence
+too for a while. It was one of those full, blessed silences that are
+the very reverse of a blank or a void; when the heart's big treasure is
+too much to be immediately unpacked, and words when they come are quite
+likely enough not to touch it and to go to something comparatively
+indifferent. However, words did not just that on the present occasion.
+
+"Dolly, I am in a sort of amazement at my own happiness," Mr. Shubrick
+said.
+
+Dolly could have answered, so was she! but she did not. She only
+dimpled a little, and flushed.
+
+"I have been waiting for you all these years," he went on; "and now I
+have got you!"
+
+Dolly's dimples came out a little more. "I thought you did not wait,"
+she remarked.
+
+Mr. Shubrick laughed. "My heart waited," he said. "I made a boy's
+mistake; and I might have paid a man's penalty for it. But I had always
+known that you and no other would be my wife, if I could find you. That
+is, if I could persuade you; and somehow I never allowed myself to
+doubt of that. I did not take such a chance into consideration."
+
+"But I was such a little child," said Dolly.
+
+"Ay," said he; "that was it. You were _such_ a little child."
+
+"But you must have been a very extraordinary midshipman, it seems to
+me."
+
+"By the same rule you must have been a very extraordinary little girl."
+
+They both laughed at that.
+
+"I suppose we were both extraordinary," said Dolly; "but, really, Mr.
+Shubrick, you know very little about me!"
+
+His answer to that was to kiss again the hand he held.
+
+"What do you know of me?"
+
+"I think I know a great deal about you," said Dolly softly.
+
+"You have a great deal to learn. Wouldn't you like to begin by hearing
+how Miss Thayer and I came to an understanding?"
+
+"Oh, yes, yes! if you please," said Dolly, extremely glad to get upon a
+more abstract subject of conversation.
+
+"I owe that to myself, perhaps," Mr. Shubrick went on; "and I certainly
+owe it to you. I told you how I got into my engagement with her. It was
+a boyish fancy; but all the same, I was bound by it; and I should have
+been legally bound before now, only that Christina always put off that
+whenever I proposed it. I found too that the putting it off did not
+make me miserable. Dolly, the case is going to be different this time!"
+
+"You mean," said Dolly doubtfully, "it _is_ going to make you
+miserable?"
+
+"No! I mean, you are not going to put me off."
+
+"Oh, but!"----said Dolly flushing, and stopped.
+
+"I have settled that point in my own mind," he said, smiling; "it is as
+well you should know it at once.--So time went by, until I went to
+spend that Christmas Day in Rome. After that day I knew nearly all that
+I know now. Of course it followed, that I could not accept the
+invitation to Sorrento, when you were expected to be there. I could not
+venture to see you again while I was bound in honour to another woman.
+I stayed on board ship, those hot summer days, when all the officers
+that could went ashore. I stayed and worked at my problem--what I was
+to do."
+
+He paused and Dolly said nothing. She was listening intently, and
+entirely forgetting that the sunlight was coming very slant and would
+soon be gone, and that home and supper were waiting for her managing
+hand. Dolly's eyes were fixed upon another hand, which held hers, and
+her ears were strained to catch every word. She rarely dared glance at
+Mr. Shubrick's face.
+
+"I wonder what counsel you would have given me?" he went on,--"if I
+could have asked it of you as an indifferent person,--which you were."
+
+"I don't know," said Dolly. "I know what people think"----
+
+"Yes, I knew what people think, too; and it a little embarrassed my
+considerations. However, Dolly, I made up my mind at last to
+this;--that to marry Christina would be acting a lie; that I could not
+do that; and that if I could, a lie to be acted all my life long would
+be too heavy for me. Negatively, I made up my mind. Positively, I did
+not know exactly how I should work it. But I must see Christina. And as
+soon as affairs on board ship permitted, I got a furlough of a few days
+and went to Sorrento. I got there one lovely afternoon, about three
+weeks after you had gone. Sea and sky and the world generally were
+flooded with light and colour, so as I have never seen them anywhere
+else, it seems to me. You know how it is."
+
+"Yes, I know Sorrento," said Dolly. But just then, an English bank
+under English oaks seemed as good to the girl as ever an Italian
+paradise. That, naturally, she did not show. "I know Sorrento," she
+said quietly.
+
+"And you know the Thayers' villa. I found Christina and Mr. St. Leger
+sitting on the green near the house, under an orange tree--symbolical;
+and the air was sweet with a thousand other things. I felt it with a
+kind of oppression, for the mental prospect was by no means so
+delicious."
+
+"No," said Dolly. "And sometimes that feeling of contrast makes one
+very keen to see all the lovely things outside of one."
+
+"Do _you_ know that?" said Mr. Shubrick.
+
+"Yes. I know it"
+
+"One can only know it by experience. What experience can you have had,
+my Dolly, to let you feel it?"
+
+Dolly turned her eyes on him without speaking. She was thinking of
+Venice at midnight under the moon, and a sail, and a wine-shop. Tell
+him? No, indeed, never!
+
+"You are not ready to let me know?" said he, smiling. "How long first
+must it be?"
+
+"It isn't anything you need know," said Dolly, looking away. But with
+that the question flashed upon her, would he not have to know? had he
+not a right? "Please go on," she said hurriedly.
+
+"I can go on now easier than I could then," he said with a half laugh.
+"I sat down with them, and purposely brought the conversation upon the
+theme of my trouble. It came quite naturally, _apropos_ of a case of a
+broken engagement which was much talked of just then; and I started my
+question. Suppose one or the other of the parties had discovered that
+the engagement was a mistake? They gave it dead against me; all of
+them; Mrs. Thayer had come out by that time. They were unanimous in
+deciding that pledges made must be kept, at all hazards."
+
+"I think that is the general view," said Dolly.
+
+"It is not yours?"
+
+"I never thought much about it. But I think people ought always and
+everywhere to be true.--That is nothing to kiss my hand for," Dolly
+added with the pretty flush which was coming and going so often this
+afternoon.
+
+"You will let me judge of that."
+
+"I didn't think you were that sort of person."
+
+"What sort of person?"
+
+"One of those that kiss hands."
+
+"Shall I choose something else to kiss, next time?"
+
+But Dolly looked so frightened that Mr. Shubrick, laughing, went back
+to his story.
+
+"We were at Sorrento," he said. "You can suppose my state of mind. I
+thought at least I would take disapprobation piecemeal, and I asked
+Christina to go out on the bay with me. You have been on the bay of
+Sorrento about sun-setting?"
+
+"Oh yes, many a time."
+
+"I did not enjoy it at first. I hope you did. I think Christina did. It
+was the fairest evening imaginable; and my oar, every stroke I made,
+broke and shivered purple and golden waters. It was sailing over the
+rarest possible mosaic in which the pattern was constantly shifting. I
+studied it, while I was studying how to begin what I had to do. Then,
+after a while, when we were well out from shore, I lay on my oars, and
+asked Miss Thayer whether she were sure that her judgment was according
+to her words, in the matter we had been discussing at the house? She
+asked what I meant. I put it to her then, whether she would choose to
+marry a man who liked another woman better than he did herself?
+
+"Christina's eyes opened a little, and she said 'Not if she knew it.'
+
+"'Then you gave a wrong verdict up there,' I said.
+
+"'But that was about what the _man_ should do,' she replied. 'If he
+has made a promise, he must fulfil it. Or the woman, if it is the
+woman.'
+
+"'Would not that be doing a wrong to the other party?'
+
+"'How a wrong?' said Christina. 'It would be keeping a promise. Every
+honourable person does that.'
+
+"'What if it be a promise which the other side no longer wishes to
+have kept?'
+
+"'You cannot tell that,' said Christina. 'You cannot know. Probably
+the other side does wish it kept.'
+
+"I reminded her that she had just declared _she_, in the circumstances,
+would not wish it; but she said, somewhat illogically, 'that it made no
+difference.'
+
+"I suggested an application of the golden rule."
+
+"Yes," said Dolly; "I think that rule settles it. I should think no
+woman would let a man marry her who, she knew, liked somebody else
+better."
+
+"And no man in his senses--no _good_ man," said Sandie, "would have a
+woman for his wife whose heart belonged to another man; or, leaving
+third parties out of the question, whose heart did not belong to _him_.
+I said something of this to Christina. She answered me with the
+consequences of scandal, disgrace, gossip, which she said attend the
+breaking off of an engagement. In short, she threw over all my
+arguments. I had to come to the point. I asked her if she would like to
+marry _me_, if she knew that I liked somebody else better?
+
+"She opened her eyes at me. 'Do you, Sandie?' she said. And I told her
+yes.
+
+"'Who?' she asked as quick as a flash. And I knew then that _her_
+heart was safe," Mr. Shubrick added with a smile. "I told her frankly,
+that ever since Christmas Day, I had known that if I ever married
+anybody it would be the lady I then saw with her.
+
+"'Dolly!' she cried. 'But you don't know her, Sandie.'"
+
+Mr. Shubrick and Dolly both stopped to laugh.
+
+"I am sure that was true. And I should think unanswerable," said Dolly.
+
+"It was not true. Do you think it is true now?"
+
+"Well, you know me a little better, but I should think, not much."
+
+"Shows how little you can tell about it. By the same reasoning, I
+suppose you do not know _me_ much?"
+
+"No," said Dolly. "Yes, I do! I know you a great deal, in some things.
+If I didn't"---- she flushed up.
+
+"We both know enough to begin with; is that it? Do you remember, that
+evening, Christmas Eve, how you sat by the corner of the fireplace and
+kept quiet, while Miss Thayer talked?"
+
+"Yes." Dolly remembered it very well.
+
+"You wore a black dress, and no ornaments, and the firelight shone on a
+cameo ring on your hand, and on your face, and the curls of your hair,
+and every now and then caught this," said Mr. Shubrick, touching
+Dolly's chain. "Christina talked, and I studied you."
+
+"One evening," said Dolly.
+
+"One evening; but I was reading what was not written in an evening.
+However, I left Christina's objection unanswered--though I do not allow
+that it is unanswerable; and waited. She needed a little while to come
+to her breath."
+
+"Poor Christina!" said Dolly.
+
+"Not at all; it was poor Sandie, if anybody. I do not think Christina
+suffered, more than a little natural and very excusable mortification.
+She never loved me. I had guessed as much before, and I was relieved
+now to find that I had been certainly right. But she needed a little
+while to get her breath, nevertheless. She asked me if I was serious?
+then, why I did not tell her sooner? I replied that I had had a great
+fight to fight before I could make up my mind to tell her at all.
+
+"And then, as I judge, _she_ had something of a fight to go through.
+She turned her face away from me, and sat silent. I did not interrupt
+her; and we floated so a good while on the coloured sea. I do not
+believe she knew what the colours were; but I did, I confess. I had got
+a weight off my mind. The bay of Sorrento was very lovely to me that
+evening. After a good while, Christina turned to me again, and I could
+see that she was all taut and right now. She began with a compliment to
+me."
+
+"What was it?" Dolly asked.
+
+"Said I was a brave fellow, I believe."
+
+"I am sure I think that was true."
+
+"Do you? It is harder to be false than true, Dolly."
+
+"All the same, it takes bravery sometimes to be true."
+
+"So Christina seemed to think. I believe I said nothing; and she went
+on, and added she thought I had done right, and she was much obliged to
+me."
+
+"That was like Christina," said Dolly.
+
+"'But you are bold,' she said again, 'to tell me!'
+
+"I assured her I had not been bold at all, but very cowardly.
+
+"'What do you expect people will say?'
+
+"I told her I had been concerned only and solely with the question of
+how she herself would take my disclosure; what she would say, and how
+she would feel.
+
+"She was silent again.
+
+"'But, Sandie,' she began after a minute or two which were not yet
+pleasant minutes to either of us,--'I think it was very risky. It's all
+right, or it will be all right, I believe, soon,--but suppose I had
+been devotedly in love with you? Suppose it had broken my heart? It
+_hasn't_--but suppose it had?'"
+
+"Yes," said Dolly. "You could not know."
+
+"I think I knew," said Mr. Shubrick. "But at any rate, Dolly, I should
+have done just the same. 'Fais que dois, advienne que pourra,' is a
+grand old motto, and always safe. I could not marry one woman while I
+loved another. The question of breaking hearts does not come in. I had
+no right to marry Christina, even to save her life, if that had been in
+danger. But happily it was not in danger. She did shed a few tears, but
+they were not the tears of a broken heart. I told her something like
+what I have been saying to you.
+
+"'But Dolly!' she said. 'You do not know her, you do not even _know
+her_.' That thought seemed to weigh on her mind."
+
+"What could you say to it?" said Dolly.
+
+"I said nothing," Mr. Shubrick answered, smiling. "Then Christina went
+on to remark that Miss Copley did not know me; and that possibly I had
+been brave for nothing. I still made no answer; and she declared she
+saw it in my face, that I was determined it should _not_ be for
+nothing. She wished me success, she added; but 'Dolly had her own way
+of looking at things.'"
+
+Dolly could not help laughing.
+
+"So that is my story," Mr. Shubrick concluded.
+
+"And, oh, look at the light, look at the light!" said Dolly, jumping
+up. "Where will mother think I and supper are!"
+
+"She thinks probably that you are in Mr. Copley's room."
+
+"No, she knows I am not; for she is sure to be there herself."
+
+"Then I will go straight to them, while you bring up arrears with
+supper."
+
+"And Christina will marry Mr. St. Leger!" said Dolly, while she flushed
+high at this suggestion. "Yet I am not surprised."
+
+"Is it a good match?"
+
+"The world would say so."
+
+"_I_ am not," said Sandie, "according to the same judgment. I am not
+rich, Dolly. By and by I will tell you all I have. But it is enough for
+us to live upon comfortably."
+
+Nobody had ever seen Dolly so shy and blushing and timid as she was
+now, walking down the bank by Mr. Shubrick's side. It was a bit of the
+same lovely manifestation which he had been enjoying for a day or two
+with a little alloy. It was without alloy that he enjoyed it now.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+WAYS AND MEANS.
+
+As they entered the house, Dolly went downstairs and Mr. Shubrick up;
+she trembling and in a maze, he with a glad, free step, and a
+particularly bright face. Mrs. Copley was with her husband, as Dolly
+had opined.
+
+"Here's one of them," cried Mr. Copley as Sandie entered. "Where have
+you been all this while? If you think I'll do to be left alone yet,
+you're mistaken. Where have you been?"
+
+"In what I believe is the park of Brierley--over there under the oaks."
+
+"And where is Dolly, Mr. Shubrick?" Dolly's mother asked.
+
+"I have just brought her home. She is downstairs."
+
+"I sent her to take care of her father," said Mrs. Copley in a
+dissatisfied tone.
+
+"She informed me that Mr. Copley did not want her, and preferred me,"
+said Mr. Shubrick.
+
+"But you did not come?" said Mrs. Copley suspiciously.
+
+He stood looking at her half a minute, with a slight smile upon his
+face, the frank, pleasant smile which belonged to him; then he turned,
+took a glass from the table and came to Mr. Copley's side to give him a
+draught which was due. Next he lifted his patient by the shoulders a
+little, to arrange the pillows behind him, and as he laid him back upon
+them he said quietly--"Will you give your daughter to me, Mr. Copley?"
+
+Mr. Copley looked, or stared rather, grumly enough at the speaker.
+
+"That means, you have got her already!"
+
+"Not without your consent."
+
+"I thought as much! Does Dolly want to marry you?"
+
+"I do not know," said Sandie with a smile; "but I believe I may say
+that she will marry nobody else."
+
+"Ay, there it is. I have other views for my daughter."
+
+"And I thought you were engaged to Miss Thayer?" put in Mrs. Copley.
+
+"True; I was; but that was a boyish mistake. We have all other views.
+Miss Thayer is to marry your friend, Mr. St. Leger."
+
+"Christina!" cried Mrs. Copley. "Didn't I know Mrs. Thayer would do
+that, if she could! And now she has done it. And Christina has thrown
+you over?"
+
+"Not at all," said Sandie, again with a smile. "And you have not to
+blame Mrs. Thayer, so far as I know. Miss Thayer and I are very good
+friends, but we were never intended to marry each other. We have found
+that out, and acted accordingly."
+
+"And she has got him!" Mrs. Copley repeated. "I told Dolly she would
+like to do that. Put their two fortunes together, and they will have
+enough," said poor Mrs. Copley. "That comes of our going to Sorrento!"
+
+"Look here, young man," said Mr. Copley. "If I give you Dolly, as you
+say, after she has given herself,--the witch!--what are you and she
+going to live on?"
+
+"We have something to live on," said the young man with quiet
+independence.
+
+"Not much, I'll be sworn!"
+
+"Not perhaps what you would call much. A lieutenant in the navy is not
+likely to have more than a very moderate fortune."
+
+"Fortune! What do you call a fortune?"
+
+"Enough to live on."
+
+"Are you ever going to be a captain?"
+
+"I cannot say. But there is some prospect of it."
+
+"Things might be worse, then," grumbled Mr. Copley. "Anyhow, you have
+tied my tongue, my fine fellow. I can't say a word against you. But
+look here;--if you don't want a wife that will rule you, I advise you
+not to marry my Dolly. She's a witch for having her own way. 'My
+Dolly'!" Mr. Copley half groaned. "I suppose now she's your Dolly. I
+don't want to give her to any man, that's the truth."
+
+"And I thought all this nursing had been so disinterested!" said Mrs.
+Copley dolefully.
+
+Sandie's answer to this was conclusive, of the subject and the
+conversation both. He went up to Mrs. Copley, took her hand, and bent
+down and kissed her. Just at that moment they were called to supper;
+and Mrs. Copley, completely conquered, went down with all her
+reproaches smothered in the bud. Yet I confess her face showed a
+conflict of feelings as she entered the kitchen. It was cloudy with
+disappointment, and at the same time her eyes were wet with tears of
+some sweeter feeling. Dolly, standing behind the supper-table, looked
+from the one to the other as the two came in.
+
+"It is all settled, Dolly," said Mr. Shubrick.
+
+And I think he would have taken his betrothal kiss, then and there, had
+not Dolly's glance been so shy and shrinking that she flashed at him.
+She was standing quietly and upright; there was no awkwardness in her
+demeanour; it was the look of her eyes that laid bans upon Sandie. He
+restrained himself; paid her no particular attention during supper;
+talked a great deal, but on entirely indifferent subjects; and if he
+played the lover to anybody, certainly it was to Mrs. Copley.
+
+"He is a good young man, I believe," said Mrs. Copley, making so much
+of an admission as she and Dolly went upstairs.
+
+"O mother," said Dolly, half laughing and half vexed, "you say that
+just because he has been entertaining you!"
+
+"Well," returned Mrs. Copley. "I like to be entertained. Don't you find
+him entertaining?"
+
+Mr. Shubrick kept up the same tactics for several days; behaving
+himself in the house very much as he had done ever since he had come to
+it. And out of the house, though he and Dolly took long walks and held
+long talks together; he was very cool and undemonstrative. He would let
+her get accustomed to him. And certainly in these conversations he was
+entertaining. Walking, or sitting on the bank under some old beech or
+oak tree, he had endless things to tell Dolly; things to which she
+listened as eagerly as ever Desdemona did to Othello; stories out of
+which, avoid personalities as he would, she could not but gain, step by
+step, new knowledge of the story-teller. And hour by hour Dolly's
+respect for him and appreciation of him grew. Little by little she
+found how thorough his education was, and how fine his accomplishments.
+Especially as a draughtsman. Easily and often, in telling her of some
+place or of some naval engagement, Sandie would illustrate for her with
+any drawing materials that came to hand; making spirited and masterly
+sketches with a few strokes of his hand, it might be on paper, or on a
+bit of bark, or on the ground even.
+
+"Ah," said Dolly one day, watching him, "I cannot do that! I can do
+something, but I cannot do that."
+
+"What can you do?" inquired Sandie.
+
+"I can copy. I can take down the lines of a face, or of a bridge, or a
+house, when I see it before me; but I cannot put things on paper out of
+my thoughts. Do you remember how you did this sort of thing for me the
+very first time I saw you?--in the gun deck of the 'Achilles'?"
+
+He smiled, finishing the sketch he was about.
+
+"I remember. I remember what pleasure it gave me, too. At that time I
+had a little sister, just your age, of whom I was exceedingly fond."
+
+"At that time--you _had?_" Dolly repeated.
+
+"Yes," he said soberly; "I have not anybody now, of near kin to me."
+
+Dolly's hand with mute sympathy stole into his. It was the first action
+of approach to him that she had made, unless that coming to him in the
+park three or four days before might be reckoned in the bargain. He
+tossed his drawing into her lap and warmly clasped the hand.
+
+"It is time you began to talk to me, Dolly," he said. "I have talked a
+great deal, but you have said next to nothing. You must have a great
+many questions to ask me."
+
+"I don't know," said Dolly.
+
+"Why, you know nothing about me," he said with a laughing look of his
+eyes. "You had better begin. You may ask me anything."
+
+"But knowing a person and knowing _about_ him, are very different
+things."
+
+"Very. And if you have the one sort of knowledge, it seems to me you
+must want to have the other. Unless, where both are alike
+uninteresting; which I cannot suppose is my case."
+
+"No," said Dolly, laughing a little, "but I suppose you will tell me
+things by degrees, without my asking."
+
+"What makes you suppose that?"
+
+"It would be natural, wouldn't it?"
+
+"_Would_ it be natural, without your showing any interest?"
+
+"Ah, but now _you_ are supposing. Perhaps I should show interest."
+
+Sandie laughed now heartily.
+
+"I will try you," said he. "I will begin and tell you something without
+questions asked. Dolly, I have a house."
+
+"Have you?"
+
+"You do not care to hear about it?"
+
+"I am glad that you have a house," said Dolly demurely. Sandie was
+lying on the turfy bank, in a convenient position for looking up into
+her eyes; and she found it not precisely an easy position for her.
+
+"You do not take it as a matter of personal concern?"
+
+"It is a house a long way off," said Dolly. "Just now we are here.''
+
+"How much longer do you expect to be here?"
+
+"That I do not know at all. Mother and I have tried and tried to get
+father to go home again,--and we cannot move him."
+
+"I must try," said Mr. Shubrick.
+
+"Oh, if you could!" said Dolly, clasping her hands unconsciously--"I
+don't know what I would give. He seems to mind you more than anybody."
+
+"What keeps him here? Business?"
+
+"I suppose it is partly business," said Dolly slowly, not knowing quite
+how to answer. And then darted into her heart with a pang of doubt and
+pain, the question: was not Mr. Shubrick entitled to know what kept her
+father in England, and the whole miserable truth of it? She had been so
+occupied and so happy these last days, she had never fairly faced the
+question before. It almost caught her breath away.
+
+"Dolly, when we all go back to America, the house I speak of will not
+be 'far off.'"
+
+"No," said Dolly faintly.
+
+"Look here," said he, taking one of her hands. "It is a house I hope
+you will like. _I_ like it, though it has no pretension whatever. It is
+an old house; and the ground belonging to it has been in the possession
+of my family for a hundred years; the house itself is not quite so old.
+But the trees about it are. The old house stands shut up and empty. I
+told you, I have no one very near of kin left to me; so even when I am
+at home I do not go there. I have never lived there since my mother
+left it."
+
+Dolly was silent.
+
+"Now, how soon do you think I may have the house opened and put in
+order for living in?"
+
+There came up a lovely rose colour in the cheeks he was looking at;
+however Dolly answered with praiseworthy steadiness----
+
+"That is a matter for you to consider."
+
+"Is it?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"But you know it would be no use to open it, until somebody is ready to
+live there."
+
+"No," said Dolly. "Of course--I suppose not."
+
+"So you see, after all, I have to come to you with questions, seeing
+you will ask me none."
+
+"Oh," said Dolly, "I will ask you questions, if you will let me. I
+would rather ask than answer."
+
+"Very well," said he, laughing. "I give place to you. Ask what you
+like."
+
+Then followed silence. The young officer lay easily on the bank at her
+feet, holding Dolly's hand; sometimes bringing his eyes to bear upon
+her face, sometimes letting them rove elsewhere; amused, but waiting.
+
+"I shall have to begin again," said he.
+
+"No, don't," said Dolly. "Mr. Shubrick, where is your house?"
+
+"About fifty miles from Boston, in one of the prettiest New England
+villages on the coast."
+
+"And how much ground is there round it?"
+
+"About a hundred acres."
+
+"Doesn't it spoil a house to be shut up so?"
+
+"It is not good for it. But there is nobody belonging to me that I
+would like to see in it; and I could never rent the old place. I am
+very fond of it, Dolly. It is full of associations to me."
+
+It swept through Dolly, how she would like to put it in order and keep
+it open for him; and again she was silent, till admonished by a
+laughing, "Go on."
+
+But Dolly did not know what further to say, and was still silent.
+
+"There is one question you have not asked me," Mr. Shubrick said,
+"which would be a very pertinent one just now. You have never asked me
+how long _I_ was going to stay in England."
+
+"No," said Dolly, starting. "How soon must you--how long can you stay?"
+
+"My leave expires in two weeks."
+
+"Two weeks! And can you not get it extended?"
+
+"I don't know. Perhaps, for a little. But, Dolly, there is a prospect
+of the 'Red Chief' being ordered home; and there is a further
+possibility that I may have to take her home; for Captain Busby is very
+much out of health and wants to stay the winter over in Naples."
+
+"You may have to take her home. Will that give you the ship, do you
+mean?"
+
+"No," said he, smiling; "ships are not had at such an easy rate as
+that. But, Dolly, you perceive that there are several questions we must
+ask and answer; and the sooner the better."
+
+"Then," said Dolly a little hurriedly,--she was afraid of the questions
+that might be coming,--"if you go away in two or three weeks, when
+shall I see you again?"
+
+There was more of an admission made in these words than Dolly herself
+knew; and it was made with a tender, shy grace of tone and manner which
+touched the young officer with more than one feeling. He bent down to
+kiss Dolly's hand before he said anything.
+
+"That is one of the questions," he said. "Let me tell you what I have
+thought about it. The 'Red Chief' has been a long time out; she needs
+overhauling. She will probably be sent home soon, and I am like to be
+in charge of her. I may expect to get a long furlough when I go home;
+and--I want to spend every minute of it with you. I do not want to lose
+a day, Dolly. Do you understand? I want you to be all ready for me, so
+that we can be married the very day I get to you."
+
+"You mean, in America?" said Dolly, with a great flush.
+
+"I mean, in America, of course. I want to take you straight away from
+your old home to your new one. I will have the house put in
+readiness"----
+
+"When do you think you will be there?" Dolly broke in.
+
+"By Christmas, perhaps."
+
+"But I am here," said Dolly.
+
+"So am I here, just at present," said he, smiling. "But you can go over
+in one ship while I am going over in another, and be there as soon as
+I, or before."
+
+"I don't know," said Dolly. "I can't tell about father. I don't know
+when he will be persuaded to leave England."
+
+She looked doubtful and troubled now. Possible difficulties and
+hindrances began to loom up before her, never looked at until then.
+What if her father would not go? What if he persisted in staying by the
+companions who were his comrades in temptation? Could she go away and
+leave him to them? and leave her mother to him? Here offered itself
+another sort of self-sacrifice, to which nothing could be objected
+except its ruinous effect upon her own future. Nay, not _her_ own
+future alone; but what of that? "Fais que dois advienne que pourra." It
+all swept through Dolly's head with the speed, and something of the
+gloom, of a whirlwind.
+
+"I don't know anything about his movements," she repeated anxiously.
+"Only, mother and I cannot get him away."
+
+"In that case, I will come to England for you."
+
+"Oh  no!" said Dolly, shaking her head; "_that_ would not do. I could
+not leave him and mother here."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+Dolly was silent. She could not tell him why not.
+
+"Would it be more difficult here, than to leave them in America?" Mr.
+Shubrick asked, the smile upon his lips checked by the very troubled
+expression of Dolly's face.
+
+"It would not be 'difficult' here; it would be _impossible_."
+
+"May I ask, why more impossible, or difficult, than in America?"
+
+Dolly was silent. What could she say?
+
+"Suppose Mr. Copley should prefer to stay in England permanently?"
+
+"Yes," said Dolly in a sort of whisper.
+
+"What then?"
+
+"I do not know," she answered faintly.
+
+"In America it would be different?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Do you know, my little Dolly, you are speaking what it is very
+difficult for me to understand?"
+
+"Of course," said Dolly. "You cannot understand it."
+
+"Are you not going to give me the grace of an explanation?"
+
+"I cannot."
+
+"Then I shall go to Mr. Copley for it."
+
+"Oh no!" said Dolly, starting, and laying both her hands upon one of
+the young officer's, as if in pleading or in hindering. "Oh no, Mr.
+Shubrick! Please, _please_, do not speak to mother or father about
+this! Please say nothing about it!"
+
+He kissed and clasped the hands, making, however, no promise. For a
+moment he paused, seeing that Dolly was very deeply disturbed.
+
+"Do you think father and mother both could not be tempted to go home
+for your sake?" he then asked.
+
+"Oh, mother, yes; but father--I don't know about father."
+
+"I shall try my powers of persuasion," said Mr. Shubrick lightly.
+
+Dolly made no answer and was evidently in so much troubled confusion of
+thought that she was not ready, even if he were, to take up again the
+consideration of plans and prospects, or to enter into any other more
+indifferent subject of conversation. After a trial or two, seeing this,
+Mr. Shubrick proposed to get a book and read to her; which he had once
+or twice done to their great mutual pleasure. And as Dolly eagerly
+welcomed the proposal, he left her there on the bank and went down to
+the cottage, which was not very far off, to fetch the book. As soon as
+he was out of sight, Dolly laid her face in her hands.
+
+It was all rushing upon her now, what she had scarce looked at before
+in the pre-occupation and happiness of the last days. It was a
+confusion of difficult questions. Would her father leave the companions
+and habits to which he had grown so fast, and go back to America for
+her sake--that is, for the sake of seeing her promptly married? Dolly
+doubted it much. It was quite possible that her father would regard
+that consideration as the reverse of an inducement. It was quite
+possible that no unselfish inducement would have any power at all with
+him. Then he would stay in England. And so long as he was in England,
+in the clutches of the temptation that had got so much power, Dolly
+could not leave him; and if she could leave him, it would be impossible
+to forsake her mother, whose only stay and comfort on earth she was. In
+that case, what was she to say to Mr. Shubrick? How could he
+understand, that for Dolly to leave father and mother was any way
+different or more difficult than Christina's or any other girl's doing
+the same thing? He could not understand, unless she told him all; and
+how was it possible for her to do that? How could she tell her lover
+her father's shame? And if she simply refused to marry him and refused
+to give any reason, what was he to think then? Shame and fear and
+longing took such possession of Dolly that she was thrown into great
+perturbation. She left her seat on the bank and walked up and down
+under the great trees. A good burst of tears was near, but she would
+not give way to that; Sandie would see it. He would be back presently.
+And he would be putting his question again; and whatever in the world
+should she say to him? For the hundredth time the bitter apostrophe to
+her father rose in Dolly's heart. How _could_ he have let her be
+ashamed of him? And then another thought darted into her head. Had not
+Mr. Shubrick a right to know all about it? Dolly was almost distracted
+with her confusion of difficulties.
+
+She would not cry, which as she told herself would help nothing. She
+stood by a great oak branch which, leaving the parent trunk a few feet
+higher up, swept in lordly fashion, in a delicious curve, down towards
+the turf, with again a spring upward at its extremity. Dolly stood
+where it came lowest, and had rested her two arms upon it, looking out
+vaguely into the green wilderness beyond. She thought she was safe;
+that was not the side towards the cottage, from which quarter Mr.
+Shubrick would come; she would hear his steps in time before she turned
+round. But Mr. Shubrick had seen her standing there, and innocently
+made a little bend from the straight path so as to come up on one side
+and catch a stolen view of her sweet face. Coming so, he saw much more
+than he expected, and much more than Dolly would have let him see. The
+next moment he had taken the girl in his arms.
+
+Dolly started and would have freed herself, but she found she could not
+do it without making more effort than she was willing to use. She stood
+still, fluttering, trembling, and at the same time not a little abashed.
+
+"What is troubling you, Dolly?"
+
+Dolly dared not look and could not speak. Silence made an admission,
+she knew; nevertheless, she could find no words to say.
+
+"Don't you love me well enough to tell me?"
+
+"Oh, it isn't that," cried Dolly; "it's _because_"----
+
+Here Dolly's revelations came to an end, and yet she had revealed a
+good deal. A dark glow came into the young officer's eyes. Truly, she
+had before never told him so much as that she loved him. But his next
+words were spoken in the same tone with the foregoing. It was very
+affectionate, and withal there was a certain accent of authority in it.
+I think it awed Dolly a little. She had known really very little of
+authority, as exercised towards herself. This was something very unlike
+her father's careless acquiescence, or his careless opposition; very
+unlike the careless way in which he would sometimes throw his arm round
+her, affectionate though that was. The affection here was different,
+Dolly felt with an odd sort of astonishment; and the care, and the
+asserted right of ownership. It gave the girl a thrill of joy; at the
+same time it had upon her a kind of subduing effect. So came his next
+question, gently as it was put, and it was put very gently.
+
+"Do you not think I have a right to know?"
+
+"Perhaps," she stammered. "Oh, I don't know but you ought to know,--but
+how can I tell you! Oh, I don't know how I can tell you!"
+
+Dolly trembled in her doubt and distress; she fought down tears. Both
+hands went up to cover her face.
+
+"Is it a trouble in which I can help?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"If I am to help, you must tell me something more, Dolly."
+
+"Yes, but I cannot. Oh, if you knew, you would know that I cannot. I
+think perhaps you ought to know,--but I cannot tell you! I don't see
+how I can tell you!"
+
+"Then do not try to tell me, until we are married," said he soothingly.
+"It will be easier then."
+
+"But I think you ought to know before," said Dolly, and he felt how she
+trembled in his arms. "If you don't know, you will not be able to
+understand"----
+
+"What?" for Dolly paused.
+
+"What I do. You will not understand it."
+
+"What are you going to do?" said Mr. Shubrick, smiling; she knew he was
+smiling. "You are going home to be ready to meet me; and the day I
+come, we are going to be married. Then you can tell me what you like.
+Hey?"
+
+"But you don't know!" cried Dolly. "I can't tell when we shall go home.
+I don't know whether father will quit England for all I can say. I
+don't know whether he will ever quit it!"
+
+"Then, as I remarked before, I will have the honour to come to England
+and fetch you."
+
+"Ah, but I could not go then."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I could not leave them alone here."
+
+"Why not here as well as in America?"
+
+"My father needs me here," said Dolly in a low voice and with
+tears,--what sharp tears of bitterness!--coming into her eyes.
+
+"Needs you! Do not I need you?" said Mr. Shubrick.
+
+"No," said Dolly. "I am so glad you don't!" And her brown eyes gave one
+flash of undoubted, albeit inexplicable, pride and rejoicing into his
+face.
+
+"How do you dare say that, Dolly?" he asked in growing curiosity and
+mystification.
+
+"You can stand alone," she said, her voice again drooping. Mr. Shubrick
+was silent a moment, considering what this might mean. They had not
+altered their relative positions during this little dialogue. Dolly's
+face was again covered by her hands.
+
+"I don't know if I can stand alone," said Sandie at last slowly; "but I
+am not going to try."
+
+"Perhaps you must," said Dolly sadly, lifting her face again. "If I can
+get father to go home, I will; maybe you can do it if I cannot. But I
+am not sure that anybody can do it. Mr. Shubrick, he did not use to be
+like this; he was everything different; he was what you would have
+liked; but now he has got in with some people here in whose company
+he--oh, how can I tell you!" cried Dolly, bursting into tears; but then
+she fought them back and struggled for voice and went on with sad
+bravery. "I have told you so much, I must tell you the whole. He is not
+just master of himself; temptation takes hold of him and he cannot
+resist it. They lead him to play and--betting--and he loses money,--and
+then comes wine." Dolly's voice fell. "I have been trying and trying to
+get him back; sometimes I almost thought I had done it; but the
+temptation gets hold of him again, and then everything goes. And so, I
+cannot be sure," Dolly went on, as Mr. Shubrick remained silent, "what
+he will do about going home. Once he would have done it for me; but I
+do not know what he will do now. I cannot tell. And if there is a hope
+for him, it is in me. I have not been able to do much, yet; but if I
+cannot, no one can. Unless you, perhaps; but you cannot be with him.
+And you see, Mr. Shubrick, that even if I can be of no use to him, I
+could not leave mother all alone. I could not. I am glad you know it
+all now; but"----
+
+Dolly could say nothing more. In sorrow and shame and agitation of
+spirits, she broke down and sobbed.
+
+Her lover was very still; but though he spoke not a word, Dolly was
+feeling all the while the new guardianship she had come into; what
+strong love and what resolute care it was; feeling it the more because
+Mr. Shubrick was so quiet about it. It was new to Dolly; it was very
+delicious; ah, and what if she were but learning that now, to do
+without it for ever after! Her tears had more sources than one;
+nevertheless, as soon as she could manage it, Dolly mastered her
+feelings and checked down the expression of them; lifted her head and
+wiped her eyes, as if she had done now with tears for the term of her
+natural life. Even forced a smile, as she said--
+
+"Please, Mr. Shubrick, let me go,--you must be tired of me."
+
+Which Dolly, to be sure, had no reason to think, and had still less
+reason a minute after; being obliged to learn, somewhat to her
+astonishment, that there was also a difference in kisses as well as in
+some other things. Dolly was exceedingly filled with confusion.
+
+"I--didn't--give you leave!" she managed to say, abashed as she was.
+
+"No," said Sandie, laughing. "And yet I think you did, Dolly. I am glad
+to see your dimples again! Come here and sit down. I think I see the
+way out of our difficulties."
+
+"You have been quick in finding it," said Dolly, as he placed her on
+the bank.
+
+"Habit," said Sandie. "Sailors _must_ see their way and make their
+decisions quickly, if at all. At least, that is oftentimes the case.
+This is one of the cases."
+
+"Can you depend on decisions formed so suddenly?"--Dolly was driven by
+some unaccountable instinct of shyness to lead off from the subject in
+hand, nearly as it concerned her. And besides, she was too flushed and
+abashed to deal coolly with any subject.
+
+"_Must_ depend on them," said Sandie, laughing a little at her pretty
+confusion. "As I told you, there is often no other to be had. And a
+sailor cannot afford to change his course; he must see to it that he is
+right at first. Vacillation would be almost worse than anything."
+
+"At that rate, sailors must get a very downright way with them."
+
+"Perhaps. Are you afraid of it?"
+
+"No," said Dolly demurely. "Are you a good sailor?"
+
+Mr. Shubrick laughed out "Do you doubt it?"
+
+"No, not at all," said Dolly, laughing a little herself. "Only you can
+do so many things--drawing, and speaking so many languages,--I wanted
+to know if you were good at that too."
+
+"That is one of the necessities of my position, Dolly. A man who cannot
+sail a ship had better not try to command her."
+
+"I wish you would tell me one thing," said Dolly wistfully.
+
+"I will tell you anything."
+
+"I wish you would tell me how you got your promotion. When I saw you
+first, you were a midshipman on board the 'Achilles.' Christina told me
+you had distinguished yourself in the war. How was it?"
+
+Mr. Shubrick gave her a glance of surprise at first, at this very
+irrelevant propounding of questions; then a gleam came out of his blue
+eyes, which were not in the least like Mr. St. Leger's blue eyes; but
+he answered quite gravely.
+
+"You have a right to know, if anybody in the world has; and yet I
+cannot tell you, Dolly. I did nothing more than hundreds of others;
+nothing but my duty. Only it happens, that if a man is always doing his
+duty, now and then there comes a time that draws attention to him, and
+brings what he does into prominence; and he gets advancement perhaps;
+but it does not follow that he has done any more than hundreds of
+others would have done."
+
+"Are there so many men that are 'always doing their duty'?"
+
+"I hope so. I believe so. In naval affairs."
+
+"You have not told me what was the occasion that brought your doings
+into prominence?"
+
+He glanced at her with a flash in his eyes again.
+
+"Is that pressing just now?"
+
+"Isn't now a good time?" said Dolly, smiling.
+
+"No, for my head is full of something else. I can't tell you how I came
+to be promoted first. After I was raised to a lieutenancy, I got
+special credit for disciplining the crew."
+
+"Disciplining?" said Dolly.
+
+"Exercising them in gunnery practice."
+
+"Oh!--I remember how you told me about that in the gun deck of the
+'Achilles.'"
+
+"This was on board another ship. Her guns were well served upon an
+occasion that followed, and honourable mention was made of my services
+as having led to that result. Now shall I go on?"
+
+"If you have any more to tell."
+
+"I am going no further on that tack. You must come about."
+
+"I suppose," said Dolly quaintly, "I must if you must."
+
+"We were getting too far to leeward. We must come up into the wind a
+little more, Dolly, and face our difficulties. I think I have found the
+way out of them. As I understand you, it is quite a matter of
+uncertainty when, or if ever, Mr. Copley can be induced to leave
+England."
+
+"Quite uncertain. Even if he promised to-day that he would go next
+week, I could not be sure but he would change his mind before the day
+came."
+
+"And so long as he and your mother are here, they need you. Do you see,
+Dolly, what prospect that opens to us?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"The only thing to do, is to give me a right to speak in the matter."
+
+"You have a right to speak," said Dolly. "Only"----
+
+"I have no right to speak with authority. You must give me the
+authority."
+
+"How?" said Dolly shyly.
+
+"There is but one way. Don't you see, if I have the right to say where
+you shall be, the rest all follows?"
+
+"How can you?" said Dolly.
+
+He took her hand gently. "You must marry me before I go," said he. "It
+is the only way, Dolly. Don't be startled; you shall have all the time
+you want to get accustomed to the thought. I am not going to hurry you.
+The only difference is, that instead of being married the day I get to
+you in America, we will have the ceremony performed here, the day I
+leave you. Not till then, Dolly. But then, of course, you must go to
+America to meet me; and if I know anything of Mr. and Mrs. Copley,
+where you must be, they will choose to be also. I think I can get
+another week or two of leave, so that it will not seem so very sudden."
+
+Dolly had flushed and paled a little. She sat looking on the ground in
+silence. Mr. Shubrick let her have a while to herself, and then asked
+her what she thought of his plan?
+
+"I don't know," said Dolly faintly. "I mean," she added,--"perhaps it
+is the best way. I don't know but it is the only way. I don't believe
+mother will like it."
+
+"We will talk her over," said the young officer joyfully. "You said
+_she_ wishes to go home?"
+
+"Oh yes. And I think she will come over to our side, when she knows the
+reasons."
+
+Sandie bent down and reverently kissed the hand he held.
+
+"Then"---- said Dolly, on whose cheek the flushes were coming and
+going,--but she did not finish her sentence.
+
+"Then, what?"
+
+"I was thinking to ask, how soon or when you expect your ship to go
+home?"
+
+"I do not know certainly. Probably I shall be ordered home before
+Christmas; but it may not be till January."
+
+Dolly was silent again.
+
+"If our plan is carried out, _you_ will go sooner, will you not?"
+
+"Oh, immediately. As soon as possible."
+
+"In that case you will be there before I shall. I told you, I have
+nobody very nearly belonging to me; but there is a cousin--a sort of
+cousin--living in the place; Mrs. Armitage; I will send her word to
+open the house and get it in some sort of order for us."
+
+Both were silent again for a space, and I think not only one was happy.
+For Dolly knew the plan would work. But she was struggling besides with
+a thought which she wanted, and did not want, to speak. It must come
+out! or Dolly would not have been Dolly.
+
+"Mr. Shubrick"---- she began.
+
+"What?" said he eagerly; for Dolly's tone showed that there was a good
+deal behind it.
+
+"Would you--I was thinking"----
+
+"About what?"
+
+"The house. Would you--trust _me?_ I mean, of course, if we are there
+before you?"
+
+A flood of colour rushed over Dolly's face.
+
+"Trust you?" he said with a bright light in his eyes. "What am I going
+to do all my life? Trust you to put your own house in order? I cannot
+think of anything I should like quite so well. What a delightful
+thought, Dolly!"
+
+"I should like it," said Dolly shyly.
+
+"Then, instead of writing to Mrs. Armitage to open the house, I will
+send her an order to deliver the key to Mrs. Shubrick."
+
+He liked to watch how the colour flitted on her face, and the lines of
+brow and lip varied; how she fluttered like a caught bird, and yet a
+bird that did not want to fly away. Dolly was frank enough; there was
+nothing affected, or often even conscious, about this shy play; it was
+the purest nature in sweetest manifestation. Shyness was something
+Dolly had never been guilty of with anybody but Mr. Shubrick; it was an
+involuntary tribute she constantly paid to him.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+THIS PICTURE AND THAT.
+
+The plan worked, as Dolly had known from the first, that it would. Mrs.
+Copley came into it, and then Mr. Copley could not resist. It only
+grieved Mrs. Copley's heart that there should be, as she said, no
+wedding. "Might as well be married in a barn!" she said.
+
+The barn-like effect was a little taken off by Lord and Lady Brierley's
+presence at the ceremony, which to be sure was performed in no barn,
+but the pretty village church; and by the breakfast given to Dolly
+thereafter at the great house. This was not what Dolly or Mr. Shubrick
+had desired. It came about on this wise.
+
+Dolly went to pay a farewell visit of thanks to Lady Brierley and to
+her good friend the housekeeper. Sandie accompanied her. Now, Mr.
+Shubrick was one of those persons who make their way in all companies.
+Lady Brierley, talking to Dolly, eyed the while the figure of the young
+officer, his face, and his fine, quiet, frank manners; watched him
+talking with her husband, who happened to come in; and also caught with
+her practised eye a glance or two of Dolly's. Dolly, be it remarked,
+was not shy here; before her noble friends, she neither flushed nor
+trembled nor was nervous. But Lady Brierley saw how things were.
+
+"So," said her ladyship at last, when Dolly was about taking
+leave,--"you have not told me, but I know it,--you are going home to
+get married!"
+
+"That would seem to be the natural order of things," said Sandie, as
+Dolly was not immediately ready with her answer; "but we are going to
+reverse the terms. We are purposing to be married first and then go
+home."
+
+The lady looked at him with a curious mixture of expressions; it was
+too early in the century then for an officer of the American navy to be
+altogether a pleasant sight to the eyes of an Englishwoman; at the same
+time, she could not wholly withhold her liking from this young
+officer's fine looks and manly bearing. She turned to Dolly again.
+
+"I hope you are going to ask me to your wedding," she said. "When is it
+to be, Dolly?"
+
+"My mother thinks it does not deserve to be called a wedding," said
+Dolly, dimpling and growing rosy. "I should not have ventured to ask
+your ladyship. But if you are so kind--it is to be on the morning of
+the 10th--very early in the morning, for Mr. Shubrick has to set off
+that day to rejoin his ship."
+
+"I'll get up by daybreak," said her ladyship, arching her brows, "if it
+is necessary. And you will come here from the church and have breakfast
+with me, will you? It would be a great pleasure to me."
+
+So it had been arranged; and, as I said, Mrs. Copley had been a good
+deal comforted by the means. Lady Brierley's breakfast was beautiful;
+she had caused her rooms to be dressed with flowers in Dolly's honour;
+the company was small, but the more harmonious; and the presents given
+to Dolly were very handsome.
+
+And now there is nothing more to do, but to give two pictures; and even
+for them there is hardly room.
+
+The scene of the first, is a house in Harley Street, London. It is an
+excellent house, and just new furnished and put in cap-a-pie order from
+top to bottom. In the drawing-room a group of people taking a general
+survey. One of them a very handsome young man, in unexceptionable
+style, waiting upon two ladies; a beauty, and the beauty's mother.
+Things in the house meet approval.
+
+"I think it is perfect," said Mrs. Thayer. "Just perfect. The man has
+done his work very well." She was referring to the upholsterer, and at
+the moment looking at the window curtains.
+
+"Isn't that a lovely tint of French grey?" said Christina, "and the
+blue fringe is the right thing for it. I think the folds are a little
+too full--but it is a good fault. It is all right, I believe. I do like
+a drawing-room with no fault in it, no eye-sore."
+
+"There could hardly be any fault in the work of Hans and Piccalilly,"
+remarked St. Leger.
+
+"Oh, I don't know, Lawrence," said the young lady. "Didn't they do the
+Fortescues' house? and the drawing-room is in white and gold; very
+pretty in itself, but just think how it will set off all those florid
+people. A bunch of peonies on a white ground!"
+
+Lawrence laughed. "_You_ can bear anything," he said. "But blue suits
+you."
+
+"It's just perfect," Mrs. Thayer repeated. "I see nothing to find fault
+with. Yes, Christina can bear anything and wear anything. It saves a
+great deal of trouble. When I was a girl I had a different complexion.
+I wasn't a peony, but I _was_ a rose--not a white rose; and anything
+shading on red I could not wear; not purple, nor claret, nor even ashes
+of roses. It was a regular perplexity, to get variety enough with the
+small number of shades at my disposal; for orange did not become me,
+either. Well, I can wear anything now, too," she added with a half
+laugh. "And it is nothing to anybody."
+
+"Mamma, you know better than that," said Christina.
+
+"Now," said Lawrence, "the question is, when shall we take possession?
+The house is all ready for us."
+
+"There is no use in taking possession till we are ready to keep it; and
+it would be dull to stay in town all winter, wouldn't it?" said
+Christina. "Whatever should we do?"
+
+"Very dull," said Mrs. Thayer. "It is a long while yet before the
+season begins. Better be anywhere else."
+
+"I was thinking of Brighton," said Christina.  "I think I should like
+that."
+
+"After the Peacocks," said Lawrence. "We are due there, you know, for a
+visit."
+
+"Oh, after the Peacocks, of course. But then,--do you think, Lawrence,
+we could do anything better than go to Brighton? Till the season opens?"
+
+Brighton quite met Mr. St. Leger's views of what was desirable.
+
+It was a month or two later, as it happened, that another house was
+undergoing inspection, a house at a very great distance from Harley
+Street, geographically and otherwise; but let the reader judge. This
+was a country house in a fair New England village; where there was land
+enough for everybody, and everybody had land, and in consequence the
+habitations of men were individually, as the habitations of men should
+be, surrounded with grass and trees and fields; the very external
+arrangements of the place giving thereby a type of the free and
+independent life and wide space for mental and characteristic
+development enjoyed by the inhabitants. The particular house in
+question was not outwardly remarkable above many others; it stood in a
+fair level piece of ground, shaded and surrounded with beautiful old
+American elms. The inspectors of the same were two ladies.
+
+Dolly had come to the village a week or two before. Mr. Copley was not
+just then in condition to be left alone; so as her mother could not be
+with her, she had summoned her dear Aunt Hal, from Philadelphia; and
+Mr. Eberstein would not be left behind. All three they had come to this
+place, found quarters at the inn, and since then Dolly and Mrs.
+Eberstein had been very busy getting the house cleaned and put in
+order. The outside, as I said, gave promise of nothing remarkable;
+Dolly had been the more surprised and pleased to find the interior
+extremely pleasant and not commonplace. Rooms were large and airy;
+picturesquely arranged; and furnished, at least in part, in a style for
+which she had not been at all prepared. The house had been for a long
+stretch of years in the possession of a family, not wealthy, but well
+to do, and cultivated; and furthermore, several of the members of it at
+different times had been seafaring; and, as happens in such cases,
+there had been brought home from foreign parts a small multitude of
+objects of art or convenience which bore witness to distant industries
+and fashions. India mats of fine quality were on some of the floors;
+India hangings at some of the windows; beautiful china was found to be
+in quantity, both of useful and ornamental kinds. Little lacquered
+tables; others of curious inlaid work; bamboo chairs; Chinese screens
+and fans; and I know not what all besides. Dolly and Mrs. Eberstein
+reviewed these articles with great interest and admiration; they gave
+the house, simple as it was, an air of elegance which its exterior
+quite forbade one to look for. At the same time, some other necessary
+things were wanting, or worn. The carpet in what Dolly called the
+drawing-room was one of these instances. It was very much the worse for
+wear. Dolly and her aunt went carefully over everything; adjusting,
+supplying, arranging, here and there; Dolly getting a number of small
+presents by the way, and a few that were not small. At last Mr.
+Eberstein sent in a fine carpet for the drawing-room; and Dolly would
+not have it put down.
+
+"Not till Mr. Shubrick comes," she said.
+
+"Why not, my dear? this is threadbare," her aunt pleaded.
+
+"Aunt Hal, I should not like to give the room a strange look. He may
+have associations with this old carpet, for anything I know."
+
+"Men do not have 'associations' with things," said Mrs. Eberstein.
+
+"Some men do, and perhaps he is one of them. At any rate, I want the
+house to look like home to him when he comes. I'll put down the carpet
+afterwards, if he likes it."
+
+"I am afraid you are going to spoil him, Dolly," said Mrs. Eberstein,
+shaking her head. "I hope he is worthy of it all. But don't spoil him!"
+
+"He is much more likely to spoil me, Aunt Hal."
+
+"Spoil _you!_" exclaimed her aunt indignantly. "What do you know about
+it? O Dolly, Dolly! I hope you have got the right man!"
+
+At which, however, Dolly showed all her dimples, and laughed so
+comically that Mrs. Eberstein, right or wrong, was obliged to laugh
+with her.
+
+Mr. Copley had once said a true thing about his daughter; that if she
+married Mr. St. Leger she would be devoted to him. "If"--yes, so she
+would. And being now married to somebody else, Dolly was a very
+incarnation of loyalty to her husband. Alas, many another woman has
+trusted so, on less grounds, and made shipwreck; but Dolly's faith was
+well founded, and there was no shipwreck in store for her.
+
+So the day came when all was in readiness, and the two ladies took a
+satisfied review of their work. It was the day when Mr. Shubrick was
+looked for home. The "Red Chief" had arrived in port; and Sandie had
+written that by the evening of this day he hoped to be at home.
+Everything was in order; fires were lighted; a servant installed below
+stairs; supper prepared; nothing left to be done anywhere. Dolly had
+seen to the supper carefully herself; indeed, for a day or two there
+had been some very thoughtful cooking and baking going on; which Mrs.
+Eberstein had watched with great interest, some amusement, and ever so
+little a bit of jealousy.
+
+"Is Mr. Shubrick a difficult man to please?" she demanded.
+
+"How can I tell?" said Dolly. "I have only seen him in our house, not
+in his own. He did not scold there; but how do I know what he may do
+here?"
+
+"Scold!" repeated Mrs. Eberstein. "Dolly, I believe it would rouse all
+the wickedness there is in me, if anybody should scold _you!_"
+
+Dolly flushed rosily, and then she fairly laughed out.
+
+"I will tell you a secret, Aunt Hal," she said. "I don't mean that in
+this matter, at least, he shall find any occasion."
+
+So the supper was ready, and the table was set, and fires were bright.
+Mrs. Eberstein stayed with Dolly till the evening began to fall, and
+then went back to the inn; averring that she would not for the universe
+be found in Mr. Shubrick's house when he came. Dolly stood at the
+window and watched her aunt's dark figure moving down to the gate, and
+then still stood at the window watching. It was all snow stillness
+outside.
+
+There was a faint moonlight, which glistened on the white ground and
+bare elm branches. A few inches of snow had fallen the day before; the
+sun had thawed the surface slightly, and then it had frozen in a
+glittering smooth crust. It was still outside as only leafless winter
+can be, when there are no wings to flutter, or streams to trickle, or
+chirrup of insects to break the calm. Not a footfall, not a sleigh
+bell; not another light in sight, but only the moon. Anybody in the
+road might have seen another light,--that which came from Dolly's
+windows. She had been hard to suit about her arrangements; she would
+not have candles lit, for she did not wish an illumination that might
+make the interior visible to a chance passer-by; and yet she would not
+have the shutters shut, for the master of the house coming home must
+read his welcome from afar in rays of greeting from the windows. So she
+made up the fires and left the curtains open; and ruddy firelight
+streamed out upon the snow. It was bright enough to have revealed Dolly
+herself, only that the house stood back some distance from the road.
+Dolly watched and listened a while; then crossed the hall to the room
+on the other side, from the windows of which a like glow shone out. The
+fire was in order; the table stood ready. Dolly went back again. It was
+so still outside, as if Sandie never would come. She listened with her
+heart beating hard and fast.
+
+For an hour and a half, perhaps; and then she heard the tinkle of
+sleigh bells. They might be somebody else's. But they came nearer, and
+very near, and stopped; only Dolly heard a mixed jangle of the bells,
+as if the horse had thrown his head up and given a confused shake to
+them all. The next thing was the gate falling to, and a step crunching
+the crisp snow. Then the house door opened with no preliminary knock;
+and somebody was throwing off wraps in the hall.
+
+Dolly had made a step or two forward, and stopped; and when Sandie
+appeared on the threshold, she was standing in the middle of the room,
+as pretty a picture of shy joy as a man need wish to see in his heart
+or his house. If Mrs. Eberstein could have been there and watched his
+greeting of her, the lady's doubts respecting his being "the right man"
+would perhaps have been solved.
+
+But after the first hasty word or two, it was very silent.
+
+"Dolly," Mr. Shubrick said at last. And there he stopped; nothing
+followed.
+
+"What were you going to say?" Dolly whispered.
+
+"So much, that I do not know how to begin. I cannot get hold of the end
+of anything. Are you not going to let me see your eyes? I do not know
+where I am, till I get a look into them."
+
+He smiled a moment after; for, although shyly and fleetingly, the brown
+eyes were lifted for a brief glance to his. What a sweet, tender
+simpleness was in them, and yet what a womanly, thoughtful brow was
+above them; and, yes, Sandie read somewhat else that a man likes to
+read; a fealty of love to him that would never fail. It went to his
+heart. But he saw too that Dolly's colour had left her cheeks, though
+at first they were rosy enough; and in the lines of her face generally
+and the quiver of her lip he could see that the nervous tension was
+somewhat too much. He must lead off to commoner subjects.
+
+"Who is here with you?"
+
+"Nobody."
+
+"You do not mean that you are _alone_ here, Dolly?"
+
+"No. Oh no. I mean, nobody in the house. Aunt Harry and Uncle Ned are
+at Baxter's. Aunt Harry only left me an hour or two ago, when it was
+time to expect you."
+
+"It was very kind of her to leave you!" said Sandie frankly.
+
+"We have been here a fortnight. When I found I could not have mother, I
+wrote to Aunt Hal; and she came."
+
+"What was the matter with your mother?"
+
+Dolly half unwound herself from the arms that held her, and turned her
+face away. She was trying to choke something down that threatened to
+stop her speech.
+
+"Father"----
+
+"What of him?" said Sandie with a grave change of tone.
+
+"I am not sorry," said Dolly. "But, oh! to think that I should not be
+sorry!" She covered her face.
+
+Sandie was silent, waiting and wondering. It could not be Mr. Copley's
+death that was in question; but what then could it be? He waited, to
+let Dolly take her own time. Neither did he have to wait long.
+
+"You remember," she began, still with her face turned away,--"you
+remember what I told you one day in Brierley Park--about father?"
+
+"Certainly I remember."
+
+"You understood me?"
+
+"Yes, I think so."
+
+"Then you knew that I was--very anxious"--Dolly caught her
+breath--"about what might come? Oh, it is not treason for me to talk to
+you about it--now!" cried Dolly.
+
+"It is not treason for you to tell me anything," said Mr. Shubrick,
+drawing her again closer, though Dolly kept her face bent down out of
+his sight. "Treason and you have nothing in common. What is it?"
+
+"I told you, I knew there was no safety," she said, making a quick
+motion of her hand over her eyes. "I hoped things would be better over
+here, away from those people that led him the wrong way; and they
+_were_ better; it was like old times; still I knew there was no safety.
+And now--he is taken care of," she said with a tremble of her lip which
+spoke of strong pain, strongly kept down. "He went to see some new fine
+machinery in somebody's mill. Somehow, by some carelessness, his coat
+got caught in the machinery; and before the works could be stopped his
+leg was--fearfully broken." Dolly spoke with difficulty and making
+great effort to master her agitation. The arms that held her felt how
+she was quivering all over.
+
+"When, Dolly? When did this happen?"
+
+"Soon after we came home. It is six weeks ago now."
+
+"How is your father now?"
+
+"Doing very well; getting cured slowly. But he will never walk again
+without--support. Oh, do you see how I am so sorry and glad together?
+Isn't it dreadful, that I should be glad?"
+
+She looked up now, for she would not distress Mr. Shubrick by giving
+way to the tears which would have been a relief to herself. She looked
+up with such a face! the eyes shining through tears, the mouth
+trembling with a smile; sunshine and rain all in one glitter. "And
+_that_ is the way he has been taken care of!" she said.
+
+Mr. Shubrick stooped his face gently to hers with a mute, caressing
+motion, leaving her time to get rid of those encumbering tears or to
+shed more of them; waiting till the tremor subsided a little. Soon
+Dolly spoke again.
+
+"It has been such a weight on me--oh, such a weight! I could hardly
+bear it sometimes. And now--this is better."
+
+"Yes," he said.
+
+"You had to know of it. I was very sorry!"
+
+"Sorry that I should know?"
+
+"Oh yes, yes! Sorry and ashamed. Sorry for you, too." Dolly's trembling
+was excessive.
+
+"Hush!" said Sandie softly. "What is yours is mine; sorrow and joy
+together. I think I had better go and take up my old office of nurse
+again."
+
+"Oh," said Dolly, starting, and a glad tone coming into her voice,
+"would you? How he would like that!"
+
+"It must have been a little hard for them both to have you come away
+just now. I think we will go and comfort them up, Dolly."
+
+"You are very, very good!" said Dolly, with her eyes glistening, and
+speaking from hearty conviction.
+
+"Whom are you talking to? I have not heard my name yet."
+
+"I have not got accustomed to you yet, you know," Dolly said with a
+little nervous laugh. "Besides,--I never did."
+
+"Never did what?"
+
+"I never called you anything but--Mr. Shubrick."
+
+"Christina did."
+
+"Poor Christina!" said Dolly.
+
+"Why?" said the other merrily. "She is the rich Mrs. St. Leger; why do
+you say 'Poor Christina'?"
+
+"I am afraid I have come between her and happiness," Dolly said,
+blushing frankly.
+
+"You have no occasion to say that," Sandie said, laughing. "She has got
+what she wanted. There was a terrible danger that she might have come
+between _me_ and happiness. But for her--I am not at all sure that she
+would have been happy with me."
+
+"I remember," said Dolly, "she told me one time, she knew she would not
+'_have her head_' so much, if she were once married to you."
+
+"She would not have approved my old house, either," said Sandie
+contentedly, letting Dolly go that he might put up the fire, which had
+tumbled down, after the fashion of wood fires.
+
+"She might have liked it," Dolly answered.
+
+"You do?"
+
+"Oh, very much! Aunt Hal and I think it is charming. And it is full of
+lovely things."
+
+"Wants a new carpet, I should say," said Sandie, eyeing the threadbare
+one under his feet, which Mrs. Eberstein had objected to.
+
+"There!" said Dolly. "Aunt Hal said you would never know what was on
+the floor. I told her she was mistaken."
+
+"What gave her such a poor opinion of my eyesight?"
+
+"Oh, nothing, it was not of your _eyesight_, I don't know, unless she
+thinks that is the way with men in general. Uncle Ned had brought me a
+present of a beautiful new carpet for this room, and Aunt Harry wanted
+me to have it put down; but I wouldn't until I knew whether you would
+like it."
+
+"Whether I would like it!" Sandie repeated, rather opening his eyes. "I
+should think the question was, whether _you_ would like it. I like new
+carpets."
+
+"I did not know but you might have some affection for this old one,"
+said Dolly. "I did not want to change the look of the room before you
+came, so that it would not seem like home. Aunt Harry said I would
+spoil you."
+
+"What did you answer to that?"
+
+"I said it was more likely you would spoil me," said Dolly, dimpling up
+and flushing.
+
+"Do you think I will?" said Sandie, taking her hand and drawing her up
+to him.
+
+Dolly hesitated, flushed and dimpled more, and answered, however, a
+frank "No."
+
+"Why?" was the quick next question.
+
+"You ask too many things," said Dolly. "Don't you want something to
+eat?"
+
+"No, not at all!--Yes."
+
+"I thought so," said Dolly, laughing. "Come, then."
+
+She put her hand in his and led him across the broad hall to the
+dining-room. And during the next hour Sandie might have recurred with
+reason to his late remark; that Christina had been near coming between
+him and happiness. The careless luxury of her way of entertaining him,
+was in strongest contrast to the sweet, thoughtful, delicate
+housewifery of his wife. It was a constant pleasure to watch her.
+Tea-making, in her hands, was a nice art; her fingers were deft to cut
+bread; and whenever the hands approached him, whether it were to give a
+cup of tea or to render some other ministry, it was with an
+indescribable shyness and carefulness at once, which was wholly
+bewitching. Sandie was hungry, no doubt; but his feast was mental that
+night, and exquisite.
+
+
+Meanwhile, he talked. He gave Dolly details of his voyage home, which
+had been stormy; got from her a full account of the weeks since she had
+set foot on American ground; and finally informed her that his having a
+ship was certain, and in the near future.
+
+
+"Poor Christina!" said Dolly.
+
+"Hush!" said he, laughing and drawing her with him back into the other
+room; "you shall not say that again. Would you like to go to
+Washington? The probability is that you will have to go."
+
+"Anywhere," said Dolly.
+
+They stood silently before the fire for a few minutes; then Mr.
+Shubrick turned to her with a change of tone.
+
+"Why did you think I would not spoil you?"
+
+She was held fast, she could not run away; he was bending down to look
+in her face, she could not hide it. Dolly's breath came short. There
+was so much in the tone of his words that stirred her. Besides, the
+answer--what came at last was--
+
+"Sandie, you know you wouldn't!"
+
+"Reasons?"
+
+"Oh!--reasons."
+
+"Yes. I want to know the reasons, Dolly."
+
+In her desperation Dolly looked up, one good glance of her brown eyes;
+then she hid her face. I think Sandie was satisfied, for he asked no
+more.
+
+"Yes," he said presently. "I love you too well, and you love me too
+well. We will try to help each other up; not down. Dolly, I would not
+spoil you for the whole world! and I do not believe I could if I tried."
+
+
+The lady from whom this story comes, remembers having seen Mrs.
+Shubrick when she was a beautiful old lady. Then and all her life she
+wore her cable watch-chain.
+
+
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+Typographical errors silently corrected:
+
+Chapter 1: =if they don't know Him= replaced by =if they don't know him=
+
+Chapter 3: ='The sails are said= replaced by =The sails are said=
+
+Chapter 4: =what strange shapes:= replaced by =what strange shapes;=
+
+Chapter 4: =unschoolgirl-like;= replaced by =unschoolgirl-like,=
+
+Chapter 6: =for calculation,= replaced by =for calculation;=
+
+Chapter 10: =all her beauty she= replaced by =all her beauty, she=
+
+Chapter 10: =pay my gardener.= replaced by =pay my gardener."=
+
+Chapter 11: =old-fashioned flowers showed= replaced by =old-fashioned
+flowers, showed=
+
+Chapter 18: =with it. I should= replaced by =with it, I should=
+
+Chapter 18: =No" said Rupert= replaced by =No," said Rupert=
+
+Chapter 20: =If Lawrence, had= replaced by =If Lawrence had=
+
+Chapter 22: =there by interpreting= replaced by =there, by
+interpreting=
+
+Chapter 22: =to him, Dolly= replaced by =to Him, Dolly=
+
+Chapter 23: =in thee.--I am= replaced by =in thee.'--I am=
+
+Chapter 25: =and he cometh.= replaced by =and he cometh.'=
+
+Chapter 25: ="Though people do= replaced by ="though people do=
+
+Chapter 26: =ways, of private= replaced by =ways of private=
+
+Chapter 28: =hateth you."= replaced by =hateth you.'"=
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The End of a Coil, by Susan Warner
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+<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN">
+<HTML>
+<HEAD>
+
+<META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1">
+
+<TITLE>
+The Project Gutenberg E-text of The End of a Coil, by Susan Warner
+</TITLE>
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The End of a Coil, by Susan Warner
+
+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 End of a Coil
+
+Author: Susan Warner
+
+Release Date: December 25, 2008 [EBook #27618]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE END OF A COIL ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Daniel Fromont.  HTML version by Al Haines.
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<BR><BR>
+
+<P CLASS="transnote">
+[Transcriber's note: Susan Warner, <I>The End of a Coil</I> (1880)]
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<H1 ALIGN="center">
+THE END OF A COIL.
+</H1>
+
+<BR>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+BY
+</H3>
+
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+SUSAN WARNER
+</H2>
+
+<BR><BR>
+
+<H4 ALIGN="center">
+AUTHOR OF
+<BR>
+"THE WIDE, WIDE WORLD."
+</H4>
+
+<BR><BR>
+
+<H4 ALIGN="center">
+"Well begun is half done."
+</H4>
+
+<BR><BR>
+
+<H4 ALIGN="center">
+LONDON:
+<BR>
+JAMES NISBET & CO., 21 BERNERS STREET
+</H4>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+NOTE TO THE READER.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+As in the case of "My Desire," the turning facts of this story are
+fact; even to the most romantic and unlikely detail. In this is found,
+I hope, my justification for making the hero in one place repeat
+something very like what was said by the hero of Queechy on a like
+occasion. I was unwilling to disturb the absolute truth of the story,
+so far as I had it.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+CONTENTS.
+</H2>
+
+<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%">
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">CHAPTER</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">&nbsp;</TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">I.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap01">DOLLY'S ARRIVAL</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap02">CHRISTINA AND HER MOTHER</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap03">THE MARINE DICTIONARY</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap04">THE "ACHILLES"</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap05">THE PIECE OF ROPE</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap06">END OF SCHOOL TERM</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap07">PLAYTHINGS</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap08">LONDON</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap09">THE PEACOCKS</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">X.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap10">BRIERLEY COTTAGE</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XI.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap11">IN THE PARK</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap12">THE HOUSE</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIII.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap13">PREACHING AND PRACTICE</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIV.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap14">DIFFICULTIES</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XV.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap15">THE CONSUL'S OFFICE</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVI.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap16">A FIGHT</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVII.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap17">RUPERT</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVIII.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap18">A SQUARE PARTY</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIX.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap19">SEEING SIGHTS</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XX.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap20">LIMBURG</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXI.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap21">VENICE</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXII.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap22">MR. COPLEY</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIII.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap23">THE WINE SHOP</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIV.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap24">PAST GREATNESS</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXV.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap25">CHRISTMAS EVE</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXVI.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap26">NAPLES</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXVII.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap27">SORRENTO</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXVIII.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap28">AT THE VILLA</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIX.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap29">WHITHER NOW?</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXX.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap30">DOWN HILL</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXXI.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap31">HANDS FULL</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXXII.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap32">THE NURSE</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXXIII.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap33">UNDER AN OAK TREE</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXXIV.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap34">UNDER THE SAME OAK</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXXV.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap35">WAYS AND MEANS</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXXVI.&nbsp;&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap36">THIS PICTURE AND THAT</A></TD>
+</TR>
+
+</TABLE>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<H1 ALIGN="center">
+THE END OF A COIL.
+</H1>
+
+<BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap01"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER I.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+DOLLY'S ARRIVAL.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+The door stands open of a handsome house in Walnut Street&mdash;the Walnut
+Street which belongs to the city of William Penn; and on the threshold
+stands a lady, with her hand up to her brows, shielding her eyes from
+the light. She is watching to see what will come out of a carriage just
+driving up to the curbstone. The carriage stops; there descends first
+the figure of a handsome, very comfortable-looking gentleman. Mrs.
+Eberstein's eyes pass over him very cursorily; she has seen him before;
+and there is hardly a curl on his handsome head which his wife does not
+know by heart. What comes next? Ah, that is she!&mdash;the figure of the
+expected one; and a little girl of some eleven years is helped
+carefully out by Mr. Eberstein, and comes up the steps to the waiting
+and watching lady. A delicate little thing, delicate in frame and
+feature alike, with a fair, childish face, framed in by loose light
+brown curls, and a pair of those clear, grave, wise, light hazel eyes
+which have the power of looking so young and so spiritually old at
+once. Those eyes are the first thing that Mrs. Eberstein sees, and they
+fascinate her already. Meanwhile kind arms are opened wide, and take
+the little one in.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Come at last, darling! And do you remember your Aunt Hal? and are you
+half as glad to see her as she is to see you?" So Mrs. Eberstein gives
+her greeting, while she is drawing the child through the hall and into
+the parlour; gives it between kisses.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, no," said her husband, who had followed. "Be reasonable, Harry.
+She cannot be so glad to see you as we are to see her. She has just
+come from a long stage-coach journey; and she is tired, and she is
+hungry; and she has left a world she knows, and has come to a world she
+doesn't know; hey, Dolly? isn't it true? Tell your Aunt Hal to stop
+asking questions, and give you something to eat."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have come to a world I don't know," repeated the little girl by way
+of answer, turning her serious small face to her questioner, while Mrs.
+Eberstein was busily taking off coat and hat and mufflers.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, that's what I say!" returned Mr. Eberstein. "How do you like the
+look of it, hey?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wonder who is asking questions now!" said Mrs. Eberstein. "There,
+darling! now you are at home."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She finished with another kiss; but, nevertheless, I think the feeling
+that it was a strange world she had come to, was rather prominent in
+Dolly. She suddenly stooped to a great Maltese cat that was lying on
+the hearthrug, and I am afraid the eyes were glad of an excuse to get
+out of sight. She touched the cat's fur tenderly and somewhat
+diligently.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She won't hurt you," said her aunt. "That is Mr. Eberstein's pet. Her
+name is Queen Mab."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She don't look much like a fairy," was Dolly's comment. Indeed, Queen
+Mab would outweigh most of her race, and was a magnificent specimen of
+good feeding.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You do," thought Mrs. Eberstein. Aloud she asked: "What do you know
+about fairies?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, I know they are only stories. I have read about them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Fairy tales, eh?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, not much fairy tales," said Dolly, now rising up from the cat. "I
+have read about them in 'Midsummer Night's Dream.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'Midsummer Night's Dream,' you midget!" exclaimed Mrs. Eberstein.
+"Have you read that? And everything else you could lay hands on?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She took the child in her arms again as she spoke. Dolly gave a quiet
+assent.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And they let you do just what you like at home? and read just what you
+like?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly smiled slightly at the obviousness of the course of action
+referred to; but the next minute the smile was quenched in a mist of
+tears, and she hid her head on Mrs. Eberstein's shoulder. Kisses and
+caresses of course followed, not successfully. At last Mr. Eberstein's
+repeated suggestion that food, in the circumstances, would be very much
+in place, was acted upon. Supper was served in the next room, which did
+duty for a dining-room; and the little family gathered round a
+bountifully spread table. There were only those three; and, naturally,
+the attention of the two elder was very much concentrated upon the
+third new member of the party; although Mr. Eberstein was hungry and
+proved it. The more Mrs. Eberstein studied her new acquisition,
+however, the more incitement to study she found. .
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly was not like most children; one could see that immediately. Faces
+as pretty, and more pretty, could easily be found; the charm was not in
+mere flesh and blood, form or colour. Other children's faces are often
+innocent too, and free from the shadow of life's burdens, as this was.
+Nevertheless, it is not often, it is very rarely, that one sees the
+mingling of childish simplicity with that thoughtful, wise, spiritual
+look into life, which met one in Dolly's serious hazel orbs; not often
+that sweetness and character speak so early in the lines of the lips;
+utterly childish in their soft, free mobility, and yet revealing
+continually a trait of thoughtfulness or of strength, along with the
+happy play of an unqualified tender disposition. "You are lovely! you
+are lovely!" was Mrs. Eberstein's inner cry; and she had to guard
+herself that the thought did not come to too open expression. There was
+a delicate air of refinement also about the child, quite in keeping
+with all the rest of her; a neat and noiseless handling of knife and
+fork, cup and saucer; and while Dolly was evidently hungry as well as
+her uncle, she took what was given to her in a thoroughly high-bred
+way; that is, she made neither too much nor too little of it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Doubtless all the while she was using her power of observation, as Mrs.
+Eberstein was using hers, though the fact was not obtruded; for Dolly
+had heart wants quite as urgent as body wants. What she saw was
+reassuring. With Mr. Eberstein she had already been several hours in
+company, having travelled with him from New York. She was convinced of
+his genial kindness and steadfast honesty; all the lines of his
+handsome face, and every movement of his somewhat ease-loving person,
+were in harmony with that impression. Mrs. Eberstein was a fit mate for
+her husband. If Dolly had watched her a little anxiously at first, on
+account of her livelier manner, she soon made out to her satisfaction
+that nothing but kindness, large and bounteous, lodged behind her
+aunt's face, and gave its character to her aunt's manner. She knew
+those lively eyes were studying her; she knew just as well that nothing
+but good would come of the study.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The meal over, Mrs. Eberstein took her niece upstairs to make her
+acquainted with her new quarters. It was a little room off the hall
+which had been destined for Dolly, opening out of her aunt's own; and
+it had been fitted up with careful affection. A small bedstead and
+dressing-table of walnut wood, a little chest of drawers, a little
+wardrobe; it was a wonder how so much could have been got in, but there
+was room for all. And then there were red curtains and carpet, and on
+the white spread a dainty little eider-down silk quilt; and on the
+dressing-table and chest of drawers pretty toilet napkins and
+pincushion. It was a cosy little apartment as ever eleven years old
+need delight in. Dolly forthwith hung up her hat and coat in the
+wardrobe; took brush and comb out of her travelling bag, and with
+somewhat elaborate care made her hair smooth; as smooth, that is, as a
+loose confusion of curly locks allowed; then signified that she was
+ready to go downstairs again. If Mrs. Eberstein had expected some
+remark upon her work, she was disappointed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In the drawing-room, she drew the child to sit down upon her knee.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, Dolly, what do you think you are going to do in Philadelphia?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Go to school&mdash;they say."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who says so?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Father says so, and mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do you think they want you to go to school for?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose that I may become like other people."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Eberstein burst out into a laugh. His wife's eyes went over to him
+adjuringly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are you not like other people now, Dolly?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The child's sweet, thoughtful brown eyes were lifted to hers frankly,
+as she answered, "I don't know, ma'am."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then why do you say that? or why do they say it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know," said Dolly again. "I think they think so."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I daresay they do," said Mrs. Eberstein; "but if you were mine, I
+would rather have you unlike other people."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, Aunt Harry?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes," said Mr. Eberstein; "now you'll have to go on and tell." And
+Dolly's eyes indeed looked expectant.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think I like you best just as you are."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly's face curled all up into a smile at this; brow and eyes and
+cheeks and lips all spoke her sense of amusement; and stooping forward
+a little at the same time, she laid a loving kiss upon her aunt's
+mouth, who was unspeakably delighted with this expression of
+confidence. But then she repeated gravely&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think they want me changed."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And pray, what are you going to do, with that purpose in view?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know. I am going to study, and learn things; a great many
+things."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't believe you are particularly ignorant for eleven years old."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, I do not know anything!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Can you write a nice hand?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly's face wrinkled up again with a sense of the comical. She gave an
+unhesitating affirmative answer.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And you have read Shakespeare. What else, Dolly?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Plutarch."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'Plutarch's Lives'?" said Mrs. Eberstein, while her husband again
+laughed out aloud. "Hush, Edward. Is it 'Plutarch's Lives,' my dear,
+that you mean? Caesar, and Alexander, and Pompey?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly nodded. "And all the rest of them. I like them very much."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But what is your favourite book?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That!" said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have got a whole little bookcase upstairs full of the books I used
+to read when I was a little girl. We will look into it to-morrow, and
+see what we can find. 'Plutarch's Lives' is not there."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, I do not want that," said Dolly, her eyes brightening. "I have
+read it so much, I know it all."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Come here," said Mr. Eberstein; "your aunt has had you long enough;
+come here, Dolly, and talk to me. Tell me which of those old fellows
+you think was the best fellow?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of 'Plutarch's Lives'?" said Dolly, accepting a position upon Mr.
+Eberstein's knee now.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes; the men that 'Plutarch's Lives' tell about. Whom do you like
+best?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly pondered, and then averred that she liked one for one thing and
+another for another. There ensued a lively discussion between her and
+Mr. Eberstein, in the course of which Dolly certainly brought to view
+some power of discrimination and an unbiassed original judgment; at the
+same time her manner retained the delicate quiet which characterised
+all that belonged to her. She held her own over against Mr. Eberstein,
+but she held it with an exquisite poise of ladylike good breeding; and
+Mr. Eberstein was charmed with her. The talk lasted until it was broken
+up by Mrs. Eberstein, who declared Dolly must go to rest.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She went up herself with the child, and attended to her little
+arrangements; helped her undress; and when Dolly was fairly in bed,
+stood still looking at the bright little head on the pillow, thinking
+that the brown eyes were very wide open for the circumstances.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are you very tired, darling?" she asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know," said Dolly. "I guess not very."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sleepy?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, I am not sleepy yet. I am wide awake."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you ever lie awake, after you have gone to bed?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not often. Sometimes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What makes you do it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know. I get thinking sometimes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"About what can such a midget as you get thinking?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly's face wrinkled up a little in amusement at this question. "I see
+a great many things to think about," she answered.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's too soon for you to begin that," said Mrs. Eberstein, shaking her
+head. Then she dropped down on her knees by the bedside, so as to bring
+her face nearer the child's.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dolly, have you said your prayers?" she asked softly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The brown eyes seemed to lift their lids a little wider at that. "What
+do you mean, Aunt Harry?" she replied.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you never pray to the Lord Jesus before you go to sleep?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't do it ever. I don't know anything about it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The thrill that went over Mrs. Eberstein at this happily the little one
+did not know. She went on very quietly in manner.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't you know what prayer is?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is what people do in church, isn't it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What is it that people do in church?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not know," said Dolly. "I never thought about it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is what you do whenever you ask your father or mother for anything.
+Only that is prayer to your father or mother. This I mean is prayer to
+God."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We don't call it prayer, asking them anything," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, we do not call it so. But it is really the same thing. We call it
+prayer, when we speak to God."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why should I speak to God, Aunt Harry? I don't know how."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why He is our Father in heaven, Dolly. Wouldn't it be a strange thing
+if children never spoke to their father?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But they can't, if they don't know him," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Here followed a strange thing, which no doubt had mighty after-effects.
+Mrs. Eberstein, who was already pretty well excited over the
+conversation, at these words broke down, burst into tears, and hid her
+face in the bedclothes. Dolly looked on in wondering awe, and an
+instant apprehension that the question here was about something real.
+Presently she put out her hand and touched caressingly Mrs. Eberstein's
+hair, moved both by pity and curiosity to put an end to the tears and
+have the talk begin again. Mrs. Eberstein lifted her face, seized the
+little hand and kissed it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You see, darling," she said, "I want you to be God's own child."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How can I?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you will trust Jesus and obey Him. All who belong to Him are God's
+dear children; and He loves them, and the Lord Jesus loves them, and He
+takes care of them and teaches them, and makes them fit to be with Him
+and serve Him in glory by and by."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But I don't know about Jesus," said Dolly again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Haven't you got a Bible?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Never read it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Never went to Sunday School?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, ma'am."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Little Dolly, I am very glad you came to Philadelphia."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, Aunt Harry?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Because I love you so much!" exclaimed Mrs. Eberstein, kissing the
+child's sweet mouth. "Why, Dolly, Jesus is the best, best friend we
+have got; nobody loves us so much in the whole world; He gave his life
+for us. And, then, He is the King of glory. He is everything that is
+loving, and true, and great, and good; 'the chiefest among ten
+thousand.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What did He give His life for?" said Dolly, whose eyes were growing
+more and more intent.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To save our lives, dear."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"From what?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, Dolly, you and I, and everybody, have broken God's beautiful law.
+The punishment for that is death; not merely the death of the body, but
+everlasting separation from God and His love and His favour; that is
+death; living death. To save us from that, Jesus died Himself; He paid
+our debt; He died instead of us."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then is He dead?" said Dolly awefully.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He was dead; but He rose again, and now He lives, King over all. He
+was God as well as man, so the grave could not hold Him. But He paid
+our debt, darling."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You said, death was everlasting separation from God and good," said
+Dolly very solemnly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"For us, it would have been."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But He did not die that way?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He could not, for He is the glorious Son of God. He only tasted death
+for us; that we might not drink the bitter cup to eternity."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Aunt Harry," said Dolly, "is all that true?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Certainly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"When did He do that?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is almost nineteen hundred years ago. And since then, if any one
+trusts His word and is willing to be His servant, Jesus loves him, and
+keeps him, and saves him, and makes him blessed for ever."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But why did He do that? what made Him?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"His great love for us."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Us?" Dolly repeated.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes. You and me, and everybody. He just came to save that which was
+lost."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't see how He can love me," said Dolly slowly. "Why, I am a
+stranger to Him, Aunt Harry."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah, you are no stranger! Oh yes, Dolly, He loves you dearly; and He
+knows all about you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly considered the matter a little, and also considered her aunt,
+whose lips were quivering and whose eyes were dropping tears. With a
+very serious face Dolly considered the matter: and came to a conclusion
+with promptitude unusual in this one subject of all the world. She half
+rose up in her bed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then I love Him," she said. "I will love Him, too, Aunt Harry."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Will you, my darling?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But I do not know how to be His servant."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Jesus will teach you Himself, if you ask Him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How will He teach me?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He will make you understand His word, and let you know what pleases
+Him. He says, 'If ye love me, keep My commandments.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"His commandments are in the Bible, aren't they?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Certainly. You say you have not got a Bible?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then we will see about that to-morrow, the first thing we do. You
+shall have a Bible, and that will tell you about His commandments."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Aunt Harry, I would like Him to know to-night that I love Him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then tell Him so, dear."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Can I?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To be sure you can. Why not?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not know how."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Tell Him, Dolly, just as if the Lord Jesus were here present and you
+could see Him. He is here, only you do not see Him; that is all the
+difference Tell Him, Dolly, just as you would tell me; only remember
+that you are speaking to the King. He would like to hear you say that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I ought to kneel down when I speak to Him, oughtn't I? People do in
+church."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is proper, when we can, to take a position of respect when we speak
+to the King; don't you think so?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly shuffled herself up upon her knees in the bed, not regarding much
+that Mrs. Eberstein threw a shawl round her shoulders; and waited a
+minute or two, looking intensely serious and considering. Then laying
+her hands involuntarily together, but with her eyes open, she spoke.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"O Lord Jesus,&mdash;Aunt Harry says you are here though I cannot see you.
+If you are here, you can see, and you know that I love you; and I will
+be your servant. I never knew about you before, or I would have done it
+before. Now I do. Please to teach me, for I do not know anything, that
+I may do everything that pleases you. I will not do anything that don't
+please you. Amen."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly waited a moment, then turned and put her arms round her aunt's
+neck and kissed her. "Thank you!"&mdash;she said earnestly; and then lay
+down and arranged herself to sleep.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Eberstein went downstairs and astonished her husband by a burst of
+hysterical weeping. He made anxious enquiries; and at last received an
+account of the last half-hour.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But, oh, Edward, what do you think?" she concluded. "Did you ever hear
+anything like that in your life? Do you think it can be genuine?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Genuine what?" demanded her husband.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, I mean, can it be true religious conversion? This child knows
+next to nothing; just that Jesus died out of love to her, to save
+her,&mdash;nothing more."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And she has given her love back. Very logical and reasonable; and
+ought not to be so uncommon."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But it is uncommon, Edward. At least, people generally make a longer
+business of it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In which they do not show their wisdom."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No; but they do it. Edward, can it be that this child is so suddenly a
+Christian? Will it stand?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Only time can show that. But Harry, all the cases,&mdash;almost all the
+cases reported in the New Testament are cases of sudden yielding. Just
+look at it. John and Andrew took but a couple of hours or so to make up
+their minds. Nathanael did not apparently take more than two minutes
+after he saw Christ. Lydia became a Christian at her first hearing the
+good news; the eunuch made up his mind as quick. Why should not little
+Dolly? The trouble is caused only by people's obstinate resistance."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you think it may be true work?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course I think so. This child is not an ordinary child, there is
+that to be said."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said Mrs. Eberstein thoughtfully. "Is she not peculiar? She is
+such a child; and yet there is such a wise, deep look in her brown
+eyes. What pretty eyes they are! There is the oddest mixture of old and
+young in her I ever saw. She is going to be lovely, Edward!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think she is lovely now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh yes! but I mean, when she grows up. She will be very lovely, with
+those spiritual eyes and that loose curly brown hair; if only she can
+be kept as she is now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dear, she cannot be that!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, you know what I mean, Edward. If she can be kept unspoiled;
+untainted; unsophisticated; with that sort of mixture of wisdom and
+simplicity which she has now. I wish we need not send her to school."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We have no choice about that. And the Lord can keep His own. Let us
+ask Him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They knelt and did so; with some warm tears on Mrs. Eberstein's part,
+and great and warm earnestness in them both.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap02"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER II.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHRISTINA AND HER MOTHER.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Eberstein watched during the next few days, to see, if she could,
+whether the sudden resolve taking on Dolly's part that first evening
+"meant anything," as she expressed it, or not. She remained in doubt.
+Dolly was thoughtful certainly, and sweet certainly; "but that don't
+tell," Mrs. Eberstein remarked; "it is her characteristic." It was
+equally certain that she had attached herself with a trustful, clinging
+affection to the new friends whose house and hearts had received her.
+Dolly's confidence was given to them fully and heartily from that very
+first day; and they saw that it was.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Nearly a week passed before the school-term began. Meanwhile Dolly was
+taken about, in walks and drives, to see all that her friends thought
+would interest her. Everything interested her, they found; and upon
+every subject presented to her, her little head went to work; the
+result of which was the putting of a question now and then, which
+afforded her guardians, perhaps, as much entertainment as the ground of
+the question had given Dolly. These questions, however, were called
+forth most of all by the subject which had seized hold of Dolly's mind
+with such force that first evening. Mrs. Eberstein had not forgotten
+her promise about the Bible. One of the first expeditions undertaken
+the next day had been in search of one; successful, in the judgment of
+both Dolly and her aunt; and since then the book was very often to be
+seen in Dolly's hands.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What are you reading there, Dolly?" Mr. Eberstein asked, corning in
+one evening just before dinner. Dolly was on a low seat at the corner
+of the fireplace, reading by the shine of a fire of Liverpool coal,
+which threw warm lights all over the little figure. She looked up and
+said it was her Bible she was studying.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You will put out your eyes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh no, Uncle Edward; the print is so good, and the fire makes such a
+nice blaze, I can see perfectly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And pray, what are you looking for, or what are you finding, in that
+book, little one?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am looking for a great deal,&mdash;and I am finding a little," was
+Dolly's reply.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Different with me," said Mr. Eberstein with a short laugh. "I
+generally find more in the Bible than I look for."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do you look for in it?" said Dolly, raising her head which had
+gone down to the reading.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Eberstein laughed again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Truly, Dolly," he said, "you have hit me there! I believe I often open
+the Bible without looking for anything in particular."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Perhaps that makes the difference," said Dolly, letting her eyes fall
+again to her page.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Perhaps it does; but, Dolly, I should very much like to know what you
+are looking for?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am looking to find out the will of God, Uncle Edward."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Come here, my pet," said Mr. Eberstein, coaxing the little girl into
+his arms and setting her on his knee. "What do you want to find out the
+will of God for? what about?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"About me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do you want to know the will of God about you for?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I want to do it, Uncle Edward."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There couldn't be a better reason. Jesus says, 'He that hath My
+commandments, and keepeth them, he it is that loveth Me.' Do you find
+what you seek?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I find some," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where were you reading just now?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"About Abraham."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Abraham! What do you find in Abraham's life, may I ask, that tells you
+the will of God about Dolly Copley? You are not called upon to leave
+your country and go out into a strange land."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No; not that. But God said to Abraham, 'Walk before Me, and be thou
+perfect.' And it puzzles me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What puzzles you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't see how I can 'walk before Him.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dolly,&mdash;the Lord is here, here where we are, wherever we are."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes. I know that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then, if you know that and remember it, and do everything you do in
+His presence, and feeling that it is in His presence, you will be
+walking before Him; don't you see? Just as if Jesus were here again
+upon earth, and you were always with Him; only you do not see Him now.
+He sees you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And 'be perfect'?" said Dolly questioningly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes. That means, I think, don't try to serve two masters. If you love
+God with all your heart, and give Him your whole life and service,&mdash;not
+a part of it,&mdash;that is what the word to Abraham means, I think. A
+servant of God is a perfect servant, if he does all the will of God
+that he knows, and as fast as he knows it. But you cannot do that of
+yourself, little Dolly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why cannot I, if I want to?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, because there come temptations, and there come difficulties; and
+you will want to do something you like, and not what God likes; and you
+will do it too, unless the Lord Jesus keeps fast hold of you and saves
+you from making such a mistake. Only He can."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Can He?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Certainly He can."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Will He?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you want Him to do it, and trust Him to do it, He will. He will
+just do all that you trust Him to do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly pondered. "Will He do that because He loves me?" she asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Just for that reason, Dolly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then He will do it," said Dolly confidently; "for I will trust Him.
+Won't you show me where he says that, Uncle Edward?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Eberstein told Dolly to find Matt. xxi. 21. Dolly read eagerly&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Jesus answered and said unto them, Verily I say unto you, If ye have
+faith, and doubt not, ye shall not only do this which is done to the
+fig-tree, but also if ye shall say unto this mountain, Be thou removed,
+and be thou cast into the sea, it shall be done. And all things
+whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer, believing, ye shall receive."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly read to herself, then looked up, eager and confident, for the
+next reference.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Turn to John xv. 7."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Again Dolly found and read, in silence&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If ye abide in Me, and My words abide in you, ye shall ask what ye
+will, and it shall be done unto you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What next, Uncle Edward?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Isn't that promise enough?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes; but I thought you had more."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is a great deal more. Look out Thessalonians v. 23, 24."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly read, slowly, aloud now&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'And the very God of peace sanctify you wholly; and I pray God your
+whole spirit and soul and body be preserved blameless unto the coming
+of our Lord Jesus Christ. Faithful is He that calleth you, who also
+will do it.' That is beautiful, Uncle Edward!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you want another? Find Jude, and read the 24th and 25th verses."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+With some trouble Dolly found it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'Now unto Him that is able to keep you from falling, and to present
+you faultless before the presence of His glory with exceeding joy, to
+the only wise God our Saviour, be glory and majesty, dominion and
+power, both now and ever. Amen.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly slipped off Mr. Eberstein's knee and retook her old place by the
+fire; where she sat turning from one passage to another of those she
+had been reading. Mr. Eberstein watched her, how the ribbon markers of
+the Bible were carefully laid in two of the places, and a couple of
+neat slips of paper prepared for the others.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What have you been doing to-day, Dolly?" he asked at length.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We went to see the water works."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, you did! And what did you think of the water works?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We went up to the top and walked about. Do the people in Philadelphia
+want so much water as all that?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They want a great deal more. The Fairmount works give only enough for
+part of the city."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is taking a great deal of trouble to get water."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It would be worse trouble to do without it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But why don't people all live in the country, as we do at home? then
+they would have water for nothing."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Humph! That would answer, Dolly, if people were contented with water;
+they all want wine. I mean, my child, that most people are not
+satisfied with simple doings; and for anything more they must have
+money; and they can make money faster in cities. Therefore they build
+cities."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is <I>that</I> what they build cities for?" said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Largely. Not altogether. A great many things can be better done where
+people are congregated together; it is for the convenience of trade and
+business, in many kinds and in many ways. What have you been doing
+since you came home from the water works?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"O Uncle Edward!" said Dolly, suddenly rising now and coming to him,
+"Aunt Harry has opened for me her old bookcase!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What old bookcase? I didn't know she had an old bookcase."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh yes; the one where she keeps the books she had when she was as old
+as I am."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And as young, eh? Well, what is in that bookcase? is it a great find?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"O Uncle Edward, there is a great deal in it! It is wonderful. Books I
+never saw, and they look so interesting!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What, for instance? Something to rival Plutarch's Lives?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know," said Dolly; "you know I have not read them yet. There
+is 'Sandford and Merton;' I was reading in that, and I like it very
+much; and the 'Looking Glass' is another; and 'Rosamond' I am sure is
+interesting. Oh there is a whole load of them."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+"Well I am glad of it," said Mr. Eberstein. "That is the right sort of
+stuff for your busy little brain; will not weigh too heavy. Now I
+suppose you will be reading all the time you are in the house."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Aunt Harry has begun to teach me to knit."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very good," said Mr. Eberstein. "I believe in knitting too. That's
+safe."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They went to dinner, and after dinner there was a further knitting
+lesson, in which Dolly seemed absorbed; nevertheless, before the
+evening was over she brought up a very different subject again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Aunt Harry," she began, in the midst of an arduous effort to get the
+loops of wool on her needles in the right relative condition,&mdash;"does
+mother know about the Bible?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes," said Mrs. Eberstein, with a glance at her husband, "she knows
+about it, something."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then why did she never tell me anything about it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Eberstein hesitated.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose, Dolly, her thoughts were fuller of other things."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But how <I>could</I> they be?" said the little one, laying her hands with
+their knitting work in her lap, and looking up.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Her aunt did not answer.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How could her thoughts be fuller of other things, if she knows the
+Bible?" Dolly urged.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't think she really knows much of what is in the Bible," Mrs.
+Eberstein said. "She has never read it much."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't think she knows about Jesus," Dolly went on gravely; "for she
+never told me; and she would if she had known, I think. Aunt Harriet, I
+think <I>I</I> ought to tell <I>her</I> now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What would you tell her, my darling?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, I will tell her that I know Him and love Him; and I will tell her
+I have got a Bible, and some of the things I have found in it. I will
+ask her to get one too, and read it. I don't believe she knows."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The reason why a great many people do not know, Dolly, is, as your
+Aunt Harry says, that they are so much taken up with other things."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then I think one ought to take care not to be too much taken up with
+other things," said Dolly very seriously.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But you have got to be taken up with other things," Mr. Eberstein went
+on. "Here you are going to school in a few days; then your head will be
+full of English and French, and your hands full of piano keys and harp
+strings, from morning till night. How are you going to do?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly looked at the speaker, came and placed herself on his knee again,
+and laid a hand on his shoulder; eyeing him steadily.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ought I not to go to school?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Must!&mdash;else you cannot be the right sort of a woman, and do the right
+sort of work."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How then, Uncle Edward? what shall I do?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll tell you one thing, Dolly. Don't study and practise to get ahead
+of somebody else; but to please the King!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The King&mdash;that is Jesus?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Certainly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly nodded, in full agreement with the rule of action as thus stated;
+presently brought forward another idea.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Will He care? Would it please Him to have me play on the piano, or
+learn French and arithmetic?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dolly, the more you know, and the better you know it, the better
+servant you can be; you will have the more to use for Jesus."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Can I use such things for Him? How?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Many ways. He will show you how. Do you think an ignorant woman could
+do as much in the world as an elegant, well-informed, accomplished
+woman?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly thought over this question, nodded as one who had come to an
+understanding of it, and went back to her knitting.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What ever will become of that child," said Mrs. Eberstein an hour or
+two later, when she and her husband were alone. "I am full of anxiety
+about her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you are taking upon you the part of Providence."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, but, Edward, Dolly will have a history."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So have we all," Mr. Eberstein responded very unresponsively.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But she will not have a common history. Do you see how open she is to
+receive impressions, and how fast they stay once they are made?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I see the first quality. I never saw a creature quicker to take
+impressions or to welcome affections. Whether they will prove as
+lasting as they are sudden,&mdash;that we have no means of knowing at
+present."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think they will."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's a woman's conclusion, founded on her wishes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is a man's conclusion too; for you think the same thing, Edward."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't prove anything, Harry."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, it does. When two people come to the same independent view of
+something, it is fair to suppose there are grounds for it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I hope so. Time will show."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But, Edward, with this extremely sensitive and affectionate nature,
+how important it is that Dolly should have only the right surroundings,
+and see only the right sort of people."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Just so. And so she is going out into the world of a large school;
+where she will meet all sorts of people and be subjected to all sorts
+of influences; and you cannot shield her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wish I could keep her at home, and have her taught here! I wish I
+could!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Playing Providence again. We all like to do it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, but, Edward, just look at her," said Mrs. Eberstein with her eyes
+full of tears.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do," said Mr. Eberstein. "I've got eyes. But you will have to trust
+her, Harry."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now she will go, I have no doubt, and write that letter to her mother.
+I wonder if Sally will get scared, and take her away from us?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, Hal," said her husband, "your self-will is getting up very strong
+to-night! What if? Dolly's future does not depend upon us; though we
+will do what we can for it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+What they did then, was to pray about it again; for these people
+believed in prayer.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The next day Mrs. Eberstein had invited an acquaintance to come to
+dinner. This acquaintance had a daughter, also about to enter Mrs.
+Delancy's school; and Mrs. Eberstein's object was to let the two girls
+become a little known to each other, so that Dolly in the new world she
+was about to enter might not feel everything utterly strange. Mrs.
+Thayer belonged to a good New York family; and it likewise suited her
+purposes to have her daughter received in so unexceptionable a house as
+Mrs. Eberstein's, albeit the young lady was not without other
+Philadelphia friends. So the party fitted together very harmoniously.
+Mrs. Thayer, in spite of her good connections, was no more than a
+commonplace personage. Christina, her daughter, on the other hand,
+showed tokens of becoming a great beauty. A little older than Dolly, of
+larger build and more flesh and blood development generally, and with
+one of those peach-blossom complexions which for fairness and delicacy
+almost rival the flower. Her hair was pretty, her features also pretty,
+her expression placid. Mrs. Eberstein was much struck.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They are just about of an age," remarked Mrs. Thayer. "I suppose they
+will study the same things. Everybody studies the same things. Well, I
+hope you'll be friends and not rivals, my dears."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dolly will not be rivals with anybody," returned Dolly's aunt.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She don't look very strong. I should think it would not do for her to
+study too hard," said the other lady. "Oh, rivalry is necessary, you
+know, to bring out the spirit of boys and girls and make them work. It
+may be friendly rivalry; but if they were not rivals they would not be
+anything; might as well not be school girls, or school boys. They would
+not do any work but what they liked, and we know what that would amount
+to. I don't know about beating learning into boys; some people say that
+is the way; but with girls you can't take that way; and all you have to
+fall back upon is emulation."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very few young people will study for the love of it," Mrs. Eberstein
+so far assented.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They might, I believe, if the right way was taken," Mr. Eberstein
+remarked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Emulation will do it, if a girl has any spirit," said Mrs. Thayer.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What sort of spirit?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What sort of spirit! Why, the spirit not to let themselves be outdone;
+to stand as high as anybody, and higher; be No. 1, and carry off the
+first honours. A spirited girl don't like to be No. 2. Christina will
+never be No. 2."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is it quite certain that such a spirit is the one to be cultivated?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It makes them study,"&mdash;said Mrs. Thayer, looking at her questioner to
+see what he meant.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do you think the Bible means, when it tells us not to seek for
+honour?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"<I>Not</I> to seek for honour?" repeated the lady.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not the honour that comes from man."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I didn't know it forbade it. I never heard that it was forbidden. Why,
+Mr. Eberstein, it is <I>natural</I> to wish for honour. Everybody wishes for
+it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So they do," Mr. Eberstein assented. "I might say, so <I>we</I> do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is natural," repeated the lady.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Its being natural does not prove it to be right."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, Mr. Eberstein, if it is <I>natural</I>, we cannot help it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How then does trying to be No. 1 agree with the love that 'seeketh not
+her own'?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly was listening earnestly, Mr. Eberstein saw. Mrs. Thayer
+hesitated, in some inward disgust.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you take that literally?" she said then. "How can you take it
+literally? You cannot."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But Christ pleased not Himself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, but He was not like us."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We are bidden to be like him, though."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, as far as we can. But you cannot press those words literally, Mr.
+Eberstein."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"As far as we can? I <I>must</I> press them, for the Bible does. I ask no
+more, and the Lord demands no more, than that we be like our Master <I>as
+far as we can</I>. And He 'pleased not himself,' and 'received not honour
+from men.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you were to preach such doctrine in schools, I am afraid you would
+have very bad recitations."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well!" said Mr. Eberstein. "Better bad recitations than bad hearts.
+Though really there is no necessary connection between my premises and
+your conclusion. The Bible reckons 'emulations,' Mrs. Thayer, in the
+list of the worst things human nature knows, and does."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you would have a set of dunces. I should just like to be told,
+Mr. Eberstein, how on that principle you would get young people to
+study. In the case of girls you cannot do it by beating; nor in the
+case of boys, after they have got beyond being little boys. Then
+emulation comes in, and they work like beavers to get the start of one
+another. And so we have honours, and prizes, and distinctions. Take all
+that away, and how would you do, Mr. Eberstein?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Eberstein was looking fondly into a pair of young eyes that were
+fixedly gazing at him. So looking, he spoke,
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is another sort of '<I>Well done!</I>' which I would like my Dolly
+and Miss Christina to try for. If they are in earnest in trying for
+that, they will study!" said Mr. Eberstein.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Thayer thought, apparently, that it was no use talking on the
+subject with a visionary man; and she turned to something else. The
+party left the dinner-table, and Dolly took her new acquaintance
+upstairs to show her the treasure contained in Mrs. Eberstein's old
+bookcase.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mr. Eberstein is rather a strange man, isn't he?" said Miss Christina
+on the way.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said Dolly. "I don't think he is. What makes you say so?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I never heard any one talk like that before."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Perhaps," said Dolly, stopping short on the landing place and looking
+at her companion. Then she seemed to change her manner of attack. "Who
+do you want to please most?" she said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"With my studies? Why, mamma, of course."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I would rather please the Lord Jesus," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But I was talking about <I>school work</I>," retorted the other. "You don't
+suppose <I>He</I> cares about our lessons?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I guess He does," said Dolly. They were still standing on the landing
+place, looking into each other's eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But that's impossible. Think!&mdash;French lessons, and English lessons,
+and music and dancing, and all of it. That couldn't be, you know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you love Jesus?" said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Love him? I do not know," said Christina colouring. "I am a member of
+the church, if that is what you mean."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly began slowly to go up the remaining stairs. "I think we ought to
+study to please Him," she said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't see how it should please him," said the other a little out of
+humour. "I don't see how He should care about such little things."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why not?" said Dolly. "If your mother cares, and my mother cares.
+Jesus loves us better than they do, and I guess He cares more than they
+do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Christina was silenced now, as her mother had been, and followed Dolly
+thinking there were a <I>pair</I> of uncomfortably strange people in the
+house. The next minute Dolly was not strange at all, but as much a
+child as any of her fellows. She had unlocked the precious bookcase,
+and with the zeal of a connoisseur and the glee of a discoverer she was
+enlarging upon the treasures therein stowed away.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Here is 'Henry Milner,'" she said, taking down three little red
+volumes. "Have you read that? Oh, it is delightful! I like it almost
+best of all. But I have not had time to read much yet. Here is 'Harry
+and Lucy,' and 'Rosamond,' and 'Frank.' I have just looked at them. And
+'Sandford and Merton.' do you know 'Sandford and Merton'? I have just
+read that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There are the 'Arabian Nights,'" said Christina.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is that good? I haven't read much yet. I don't know almost any of
+them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'The Looking-Glass'"&mdash;Christina went on&mdash;"'Pity's Gift'&mdash;'Father's
+Tales.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Those are beautiful," Dolly put in. "I read one, about 'Grandfather's
+old arm-chair.' Oh, it's <I>very</I> interesting."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'Elements of Morality'"&mdash;Christina read further on the back of a
+brown book.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That don't sound good, but I guess it <I>is</I> good," said Dolly. "I just
+peeped in, and 'Evenings at Home' looks pretty. Here is 'Robinson
+Crusoe,' and 'Northern Regions;' I want to read that very much. I guess
+it's delightful."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Have you ever been to school before?" said Christina. The books had a
+faint interest for her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nor have I; but I know somebody who has been at Mrs. Delancy's, and
+she says there is one lovely thing at that school. Every month they go
+somewhere."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They&mdash;go&mdash;somewhere," Dolly echoed the words. "Who go?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Everybody; teachers and scholars and all. There is a holiday; and Mrs.
+Delancy takes them all to see something. One time it was a rope walk, I
+think; and another time it was a paper-mill; and sometimes it's a
+picture-gallery. It's something very interesting."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose we are not <I>obliged</I> to go, are we, if we don't want to?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, but we <I>do</I> want to. I do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I would just as lief be at home with my Aunt Harry," said Dolly,
+looking lovingly at the book-case. But Christina turned away from it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They dress a great deal at this school," she said. "Does your mother
+dress you a great deal?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know," said Dolly. "I don't know what you mean."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, what's your school dress? what is it made of?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My school dress for every day! It is grey poplin. It is not new."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Poplin will do, I suppose," said Christina. "But some of the girls
+wear silk; old silk dresses, you know, but really handsome still, and
+very stylish."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do you mean by 'stylish'?" said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why don't you know what 'stylish' means?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Christina looked doubtfully at her new little companion. Where could
+Dolly have come from, and what sort of people could she belong to, who
+did not know <I>that?</I> The truth was, that Dolly being an only child and
+living at home with her father and mother, had led a very childish life
+up to this time; and her mother, owing to some invalidism, had lately
+been withdrawn from the gay world and its doings. So, though the thing
+was greatly upon her mother's heart, the word had never made itself
+familiar to Dolly's ear. Christina was reassured, however, by observing
+that the little girl's dress was quite what it ought to be, and
+certainly bespoke her as belonging to people who "knew what was what."
+So the practice was all right, and Dolly needed only instruction in the
+theory.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'Stylish,'"&mdash;she repeated. "It means&mdash;It is very hard to tell you
+what it means. Don't you know? 'Stylish' means that things have an air
+that belongs to the right kind of thing, and only what you see in a
+certain sort of people. It is the way things look when people know how."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Know how, what?" inquired Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Know how things ought to be; how they ought to be worn, and how they
+ought to be done."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then everybody ought to be stylish," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, but you cannot, my dear, unless you happen to know how."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But I should think one could always know how things ought to be,"
+Dolly went on. "The Bible tells."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The Bible!" echoed Christina.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The Bible tell one how to be stylish!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The Bible tells how things ought to be."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, no, it don't, child! the Bible don't tell you what sort of a hat
+to put on."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, it does, Christina. The Bible says, 'Whether you eat or drink, or
+whatsoever you do, do all to the glory of God.' I can show you the
+words."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, that is something quite different. That has nothing to do with
+being stylish. How shall I make you understand? If your cravat wasn't
+tied in a nice bow there, it wouldn't be stylish."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well," returned Dolly, "it wouldn't be to the glory of God either."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What has that to do with it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think it would be wrong for a Christian to be anything but nice."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, it isn't being <I>nice!</I>" said Christina. "Your dress wouldn't be
+stylish if it hadn't those flounces."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And is it now?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes&mdash;I think it is. I should say, your mother knows what is what. It
+isn't very easy to be stylish if you are poor; but I've seen people do
+it, though."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't think I understand, quite," said Dolly. "But when I am old
+enough to dress myself,&mdash;to choose my own dresses, I mean, I shall
+dress to please Jesus, Christina."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You can't," said Christina. "I never heard of such a thing. It's
+making religion little, I think, to talk so."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think, if religion isn't little, it'll <I>do</I> so," answered Dolly.
+Whereby each kept her own opinion; notwithstanding which, at the end of
+the afternoon they separated, mutually pleased each with her new
+acquaintance.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap03"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER III.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+THE MARINE DICTIONARY.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+As the weeks of the first school term went on, the two girls drew
+nearer to each other. Everybody inclined towards Dolly indeed; the
+sweet, fresh, honest little face, with the kindly affections beaming
+forth from it, and the sensitive nature quick to feel pleasure or pain,
+and alive to fun in the midst of its seriousness, made such a quaint
+mingling and such a curious variety and such a lovely creature, that
+all sorts of characters were drawn towards her. From the head of the
+school down, teachers and pupils, there was hardly one whose eye did
+not soften and whose lips did not smile at Dolly's approach. With
+Christina, on the other hand, it was not just so. She was not
+particularly clever, not particularly emotional, not specially
+sociable; calm and somewhat impassive, with all her fair beauty she was
+overlooked in the practical "selection" which takes place in school
+life; so that little Dolly after all came to be Christina's best
+friend. Dolly never passed her over; was never unsympathetic; never
+seemed to know her own popularity; and Christina's slow liking grew
+into a real and warm affection as the passing days gave her more and
+more occasion. In the matter of "style," it appears, Dolly had enough
+to satisfy her; thanks to her mother; for Dolly herself was as
+unconventional in spirit and manner as a child should be. In school
+work proper, on the other hand, she was a pattern of diligence and
+faithfulness; gave her teachers no trouble; of course had the good word
+and good will of every one of them. Was it the working of Mr.
+Eberstein's rule?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The first monthly holiday after school began was spent in Fairmount
+Park. A few weeks later, Dolly and Christina were sitting together one
+day, busy with some fancy work, when one of their schoolmates came up
+to them.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Guess where we are going next week!" she cried.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Next week?" said the others, looking up.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Next holiday&mdash;next week&mdash;next Saturday. Yes. Where do you think we are
+going? Just guess. Oh, you can't guess."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I can't guess," said Dolly; "I don't know what there is to go to. The
+Mint? Mrs. Delancy did speak of the Mint."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not a bit of it! Something else has come up. Guess again."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Something has <I>come up</I>. Then it must be something new."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It isn't new, either. Can't a thing come to you that isn't new?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But you're talking riddles, Eudora," the other two said, laughing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I'll tell you. There's a man-of-war come up the river."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A man-of-war"&mdash;Dolly repeated.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You know what that means, I hope, Dolly Copley?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know. It means a soldier. The Bible says, Goliath was a
+man-of-war from his youth."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly as she spoke looked mystified, and her words were met by a shout
+of laughter so loud and ringing that it almost abashed the child. Some
+other girls had joined the group and were standing around, and there
+were many to laugh. However, Dolly was never given to false shame. She
+waited for more light.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's a <I>ship</I>, Dolly," they cried. "You dear little innocent, don't
+you know as much as that?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's a ship; and this is a big one. It is lying out in the Delaware."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then why is it called a man-of-war?" said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Because it is a war ship. Won't it be fun! just think!&mdash;the guns, and
+the officers, and the midshipmen!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What are midshipmen?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know!" cried another. "They are somebodies that are always on
+a man-of-war; and they are young too. Baby officers, I suppose."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They <I>are</I> officers," said the first speaker.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, they're not. They are learning to be officers. They're at school,
+and their school is a man-of-war; and their teachers are the captain,
+and the lieutenants, and so on."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And what are their lessons about?" said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"<I>I</I> don't know. Oh, they are learning to be officers, you know. Really
+they are boys at school."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Some of them are old enough," remarked another.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Learning <I>what</I>, Eudora?" said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How do I know, chicken? I've never been a midshipman myself. You can
+ask them if you like, when we go on board. For we are going on board,
+girls! Hurrah! We shall drive over to the Navy Yard, and there we shall
+get into boats, and then we shall row&mdash;I mean be rowed&mdash;out into the
+stream to the ship. It's a big frigate, the 'Achilles;' and Mrs.
+Delancy knows the captain; and she says it's a good chance, and she
+will not have us lose it. Hurrah, girls! this is prime."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What's a <I>frigate?</I>" was Dolly's next question.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dolly Copley, you are ridiculous! you want to understand everything."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No! I guess I don't. I am tired enough with trying to understand a
+little. I'll let alone what I can. You'll know what a frigate is when
+you have been on board of her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But I think I should enjoy it a great deal more if I knew beforehand,"
+said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You had best study a ship's dictionary. <I>I</I> am going to study what I
+shall wear."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That you cannot tell yet," Christina remarked. "You do not know what
+sort of a day next Saturday, I mean, Saturday week, will be. It may be
+cold or"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It mayn't be hot," said the other. "It will be cold, cold enough. It's
+November. You can wear your prettiest winter things, young ladies."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A little while after, the group had broken up, and Dolly sought out one
+of the teachers and begged to know where she could find a "ship's
+dictionary."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A ship dictionary? My dear, there is no such thing. What do you want
+to find out?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"One of the girls said I could find out about ships in a ship's
+dictionary. We are going to see a man-of-war next week."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, and you want to study up the subject? It is a Marine Dictionary
+you are in quest of. Come to the library."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The library was always open to the girls for study purposes. The
+teacher was good-natured, and got out a big, brown square volume, and
+put it in Dolly's hand. Dolly had been followed by Christina; and now
+the two sat down together in a window recess on the floor, with the
+book before them. Dolly began at the beginning, and aloud.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'<I>Aback</I>.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is nothing we want," remarked Christina.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh yes, I think it is. It is 'the situation of the sails when their
+surfaces are flatted against the masts by the force of the wind.' I do
+not understand, though. The sails are said to be 'taken aback.'&mdash; Oh, I
+have heard mother say that. What could she mean? I have heard her say
+she was taken aback."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have heard people say that too," said Christina; "often. I never
+knew what they meant. Something disagreeable, I think."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, you see," said Dolly, reading further, "it 'pushes the ship
+<I>astern</I>'&mdash;what's that? 'See <I>Backing</I>.' I suppose it means pushing it
+back. But I don't understand!" the little girl added with a sigh.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, well! we don't care about all that," said Dolly's companion. "Go
+on to something else. Find out about the midshipmen."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What about the midshipmen?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nothing,&mdash;only I would like to know what they are. Madeleine said they
+were young officers; very young; not older than some of us."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then why do you want to know about them?" said Dolly. "We have nothing
+to do with young officers. We don't know any of them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But we might," suggested Christina. "We shall see them, if we go on
+board the ship."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't care about seeing them," said Dolly. "Young officers are young
+men, I suppose. I understand <I>them;</I> what I don't know about, is the
+ship. Let us go on in this book, and see what we come to. '<I>Abaft</I>&mdash;the
+hinder part of a ship'"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"O Dolly!" cried Christina, "we have not time to go through everything
+in this way. You have not turned over one leaf yet  Do get on a little."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is good it's a holiday," said Dolly, turning the leaf. "We have
+plenty of time. I like this book. '<I>Aboard</I>,&mdash;the inside of a ship.' So
+when we go into the ship, we go aboard. That's it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Go on," urged Christina. "Here's '<I>Admiral</I>.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'An officer of first rank and command in the fleet.' There is a great
+deal here about the Admiral. I don't believe we shall see him. We'll
+look a little further."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly presently was caught by the word "<I>Anchor</I>," and lost herself in
+the study of the paragraphs following, and the plate accompanying;
+after which she declared that she understood how a ship could be held
+by its anchor. Urged to go on again, she turned over more leaves, but
+got lost in the study of "<I>boats;</I>" then of "<I>cannon;</I>" then of the
+"<I>captain</I>'s" office and duties; finally paused at the plate and
+description of a ship's deck.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's just the deck of a ship!" said Christina impatiently. "You will
+see it when we go on board the 'Achilles.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I want to understand it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You can't."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are those guns?" said Dolly, pointing to a row of pieces delineated
+along the side of the deck.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Must be guns."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I should like to go on board of a ship very much," said Dolly.
+"There are twelve guns on that side. If there are the same on this
+side, that would make twenty-four. What do they want so many for,
+Christina, on one ship?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, to fight with, of course. To fire at other ships."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But what do they want of <I>so many?</I> They would not want to fire twelve
+at once. I should think one would be enough."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Perhaps it wouldn't. Go on, Dolly, do! let us get to something else."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was difficult to get Dolly on. She was held fast again by the
+description of a naval engagement; then fell to studying the directions
+for the "<I>exercise</I>" of the guns; then was interested in some plates
+giving various orders of the line of battle. At last in due course they
+came to the word "<I>Midshipman</I>," which was read, or the article under
+it, by both girls.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'A naval cadet'"&mdash;repeated Christina.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And a cadet must be four years at sea before he can become a
+lieutenant; and two years midshipman besides. I should think they would
+be tired of it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But if they are going to be sailors all their lives, it's no use for
+them to get tired of it," said Christina.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They come on shore sometimes, don't they?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose so. Oh yes, they have houses, I know, and wives and
+children. I shouldn't like to be the wife of a sailor!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Somebody must, I suppose," said Dolly. "But I shouldn't like to have
+my home&mdash;my principal home, I mean&mdash;on the sea; if I was a man. <I>They</I>
+must like it, I suppose."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly went on reading.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The midshipmen have plenty to do, Christina. They have to learn how to
+do everything a common sailor does; all the work of the ship; and then
+they must learn astronomy, and geometry, and navigation and mechanics.
+Hydrostatics, too; oh dear, I don't know what that is. I can look it
+out, I suppose. The midshipmen must be very busy, Christina, and at
+hard work too."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Christina's interest in the Marine Dictionary was exhausted. She went
+off; but Dolly pored over its pages still, endeavouring to take in
+details about vessels, and ropes, and sails, and winds, until her head
+was in a fog. She recurred to the book, however, on the next
+opportunity; and from time to time, as her lessons permitted, gave her
+time and attention to this seemingly very unnecessary subject. How much
+she really learned, is doubtful; yet as little things do touch and link
+themselves with great things, it may be that the old Marine Dictionary
+in Mrs. Delancy's library played a not insignificant part in the
+fortunes of Dolly Copley. As we shall see. She studied, till a ship
+became a romance to her; till rigging and spars and decks and guns were
+like the furniture of a new and strange life, which hardly belonged to
+the earth, being upon the sea; and the men who lived that life, and
+especially the men who ruled in it, grew to be invested with
+characteristics of power and skill and energy which gave them fabulous
+interest in Dolly's eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At home there had been a little scruple about letting Dolly join the
+party. She had had a cold, and was rather delicate at all times. The
+scruples, however, gave way before the child's earnest wish; and as
+Saturday of the particular week turned out mild and quiet, no hindrance
+was put in the way of the expedition.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap04"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER IV.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+THE "ACHILLES."
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+It was a very special delectation which the school were to enjoy
+to-day. The girls thought it always "fun," of course, to quit lessons
+and go to see anything; "even factories," as one of the girls expressed
+it, to Dolly's untold astonishment; for it seemed to her that to be
+allowed to look into the mystery of manufactures must be the next thing
+to taking part personally in a fairy tale. However, to-day it was not a
+question of manufactures, but of a finished and furnished big ship, and
+not only finished and furnished, but manned. "<I>This</I> is something
+lively," Eudora opined. And she was quite right.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The day was a quiet day in November, with just a spice of frost in it;
+the air itself was lively, quick and quickening. The party were driven
+to the Navy Yard in carriages, and there received very politely by the
+officers, some of whom knew Mrs. Delancy and lent themselves with much
+kindness to the undertaking. The girls were more or less excited with
+pleasure and anticipation; but to Dolly the Navy Yard seemed to be
+already touching the borders of that mysterious and fascinating sea
+life in which her fancy had lately been roaming. So when the girls were
+all carefully bestowed in stout little row boats to go out to the ship,
+Dolly's foot it was which stepped upon enchanted boards, and her eye
+that saw an enchanted world around her. What a field was this rippling
+water, crisped with the light breeze, and gurgling under the boat's
+smooth sweep ahead! How the oars rose and fell, all together, as if
+moved by only one hand. Was this a part of the order and discipline of
+which she had read lately, as belonging to this strange world?
+Probably; for now and then a command was issued to the oarsmen, curt
+and sharp; and obeyed, Dolly saw, although she did not know what the
+command meant. Yes, she was in an enchanted sphere; and she looked at
+the "Achilles" as they drew nearer, with profoundest admiration. Its
+great hulk grew large upon her view, with an absolute haze of romance
+and mystery hanging about its decks and rigging. It was a large ship,
+finely equipped, according to the fashion of naval armament which was
+prevalent in those days; she was a three-decker; and the port holes of
+her guns looked in threatening ranks along the sides of the vessel.
+Still and majestic she lay upon the quiet river; a very wonderful
+floating home indeed, and unlike all else she had ever known, to
+Dolly's apprehension. How she and the rest were ever to get on board
+was an insoluble problem to her, as to most of them; and the chair that
+was presently lowered along the ship's side to receive them, seemed a
+very precarious sort of means of transport. However, the getting aboard
+was safely accomplished; one by one they were hoisted up; and Dolly's
+feet stood upon the great main deck. And the first view was perfectly
+satisfactory, and even went far beyond her imaginings. She found
+herself standing under a mixed confusion of masts and spars and sails,
+marvellous to behold, which yet she also saw was no confusion at all,
+but complicated and systematic order. How much those midshipmen must
+have to learn, though, if they were to know the names and uses and
+handling of every spar and every rope and each sail among them! as
+Dolly knew they must. Her eye came back to the deck. What order there
+too; what neatness; why it was beautiful; and the uniforms here and
+there, and the sailors' hats and jackets, filled up the picture to her
+heart's desire. Dolly breathed a full breath of satisfaction.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The Captain of the "Achilles" made his appearance, Captain Barbour. He
+was a thick-set, grizzly haired man, rather short, not handsome at all;
+and yet with an air of authority unmistakably clothing him like a
+garment of power and dignity. Plainly this man's word was law, and the
+girls stood in awe of him. He was known to Mrs. Delancy; and now she
+went on to present formally all her young people to him. The captain
+returned the courtesy by calling up and introducing to her and them
+some of his officers; and then they went to a review of the ship.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It took a long while. Between Mrs. Delancy and Captain Barbour a lively
+conversation was carried on; Dolly thought he was explaining things to
+the lady that she did not understand; but though it might be the case
+now and then, I think the talk moved mainly upon less technical
+matters. Dolly could not get near enough to hear what it was, at any
+rate. The young lieutenants, too, were taken up with playing the host
+to the older young ladies of the party. If <I>they</I> received instruction
+also by the way, Dolly could not tell; the laughing hardly looked like
+it. She and the other young ones at any rate followed humbly at the
+tail of everything, and just came up to a clear view of some detail
+when the others were moving away. There was nobody to help Dolly
+understand anything; nevertheless, she wandered in a fairy vision of
+wonderland. Into the cabins, down to the forecastle, down to the gun
+deck. What could equal the black strangeness of <I>that</I> view! and what
+could it all mean? Dolly wished for her Uncle Edward, or some one, to
+answer a thousand questions. She had been reading about the guns, she
+looked curiously now at the realities, of which she had studied the
+pictures; recognised here a detail and there a detail, but remaining
+hugely ignorant of the whole and of the bearing of the several parts
+upon each other. Yet she did not know how time flew; she did not know
+that she was getting tired; from one strange thing to another she
+followed her leaders about; very much alone indeed, for even the other
+girls of her own age were staring at a different class of objects, and
+could hardly be said to see what she saw, much less were ready to ask
+what she wanted to ask. Dolly went round in a confused dream.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At last the party had gone everywhere that such a party could go;
+Captain Barbour had spared them the lower gun deck. They came back to
+the captain's cabin, where a very pleasant lunch was served to the
+ladies. It was served, that is, to those who could get it, to those who
+were near enough and old enough to put in a claim by right of
+appearance. Dolly and one or two more who were undeniably little girls
+stood a bad chance, hanging about on the outskirts of the crowd, for
+the cabin would not take them all in; and hearing a distant sound of
+clinking glass and silver and words of refreshment. It was all they
+seemed likely to get; and when a kindly elderly officer had taken pity
+on the child and given Dolly a biscuit, she concluded to resign the
+rest of the unattainable luncheon and make the most of her other
+opportunities while she had them. Eating the biscuit, which she was
+very glad of, she wandered off by herself, along the deck; looking
+again carefully at all she saw; for her eyes were greedy of seeing.
+Sails,&mdash;what strange shapes; and how close rolled up some of them were!
+Ropes,&mdash;what a multitude; and cables. Coils of them on deck; and if she
+looked up, an endless tracery of lines seen against the blue sky. There
+was a sailor going up something like a rope ladder; going up and up;
+how could he? and how far could he go? Dolly almost grew dizzy gazing
+at him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What are you looking after, little one?" a voice near her asked. An
+unceremonious address, certainly; frankly put; but the voice was not
+unkindly or uncivil, and Dolly was not sensitive on the point of
+personal dignity. She brought her eyes down for a moment far enough to
+see the shimmer of gold lace on a midshipman's cap, and answered,
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am looking at that man. He's going up and up, to the top of
+everything. I should think his head would turn."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yours will, if you look after him with your head in that position."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly let her eyes come now to the speaker's face. One of the young
+midshipmen it was, standing near her, with his arms folded and leaning
+upon something which served as a support to them, and looking down at
+Dolly. For standing so and leaning over, he was still a good deal
+taller than she. Further, Dolly observed a pair of level brows, beneath
+them a pair of wise-looking, cognisance-taking blue eyes, an expression
+of steady calm, betokening either an even temperament or an habitual
+power of self-control; and just now in the eyes and the mouth there was
+the play almost of a smile somewhat merry, wholly kindly. It took
+Dolly's confidence entirely and at once.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You don't think you would like to be a sailor?" he went on.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is it pleasant?" said Dolly, retorting the question earnestly and
+doubtfully.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The smile broke a little more on the other's face. "How do you like the
+ship?" he asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not know," said Dolly, glancing along the deck. "I think it is a
+strange place to live."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And I don't understand the use of it," Dolly went on with a really
+puzzled face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The use of what?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The use of the whole thing. I know what ships are good for, of course;
+other ships; but what is the use of such a ship as this?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To take care of the other ships."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Have you been below? Did you see the gun decks?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I was in a place where there were a great many guns&mdash;but I could not
+understand, and there was nobody to tell me things."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Would you like to go down there again?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh yes!" said Dolly. "They will be a good while at lunch yet. Oh,
+thank you! I should like so much to go."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The young midshipman took her hand; perhaps he had a little sister at
+home and the action was pleasant and familiar; it seemed to be both;
+and led her down the way that took them to the upper gun deck.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How comes it you are not taking lunch too?" he asked by the way.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, there are too many of them," said Dolly contentedly. "I don't
+care. I had a biscuit."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You don't care for your lunch?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, I do, when I'm hungry; but now I would rather see things. I never
+saw a ship before."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They arrived in the great, gloomy, black gun deck. The midshipman let
+go Dolly's hand, and she stood and looked along the avenue between the
+bristling black cannon.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now, what is it that you don't understand?" he asked, watching her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What are these guns here for?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't you know <I>that?</I> Guns are to fight with."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, I know," said Dolly; "but how can you fight with them here in a
+row? and what would you fight with? I mean, who would you fight
+against?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Some other ship, if Fate willed it so. Look here; this is the way of
+it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He took a letter from the breast of his coat, tore off a blank leaf;
+then resting it on the side of a gun carriage, he proceeded to make a
+sketch. Dolly's eyes followed his pencil point, spell-bound with
+interest. Under his quick and ready fingers grew, she could not tell
+how, the figure of a ship,&mdash;hull, masts, sails and rigging, deftly
+sketched in; till it seemed to Dolly she could almost see how the wind
+blew that was filling out the sails and floating off the streamer.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There," said the artist,&mdash;"that is our enemy."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Our enemy?" repeated Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Our supposed enemy. We will suppose she is an enemy."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But how could she be?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We might be at war with England suppose, or with France. This might be
+an English ship of war coming to catch up every merchantman she could
+overhaul that carried American colours, and make a prize of her; don't
+you see?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do they do that?" said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What? catch up merchantmen? of course they do; and the more of value
+is on board, the better they are pleased. We lose so much, and they
+gain so much. Now we want to stop this fellow's power of doing
+mischief; you understand."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What are those little black spots you are making along her sides."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The port holes of her guns."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Port holes?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The openings where the mouths of her guns look out. See," said he,
+pointing to the one near which they were standing,&mdash;"that is a port
+hole."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That little window?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It isn't a window; it is a port hole."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is not a black spot."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Because you are inside, and looking out towards the light. Look at
+them when you are leaving the ship; they will look like black spots
+then, you will find."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, that's the enemy," said Dolly, drawing a short breath of
+excitement. "What is that ship you are making now?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's the 'Achilles'; brought to; with her main topsails laid aback,
+and her fore topsails full; ready for action."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not know what are topsails or fore topsails," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The midshipman explained; to illustrate his explanation sketched
+lightly another figure of a vessel, showing more distinctly the
+principal sails.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And this is the 'Achilles,'" said Dolly, recurring to the principal
+design. "You have put her a great way off from the enemy, it seems to
+me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No. Point blank range. Quite near enough."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, what is 'point blank range'?" cried Dolly in despair. Her new
+friend smiled, but answered with good-humoured patience. Dolly listened
+and comprehended.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then, if this were an enemy, and that the 'Achilles,' and within point
+blank range, you would load one of these guns and fire at her?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The midshipman shook his head. "We should load up all of them&mdash;all on
+that side."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And five them one after another?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"As fast as we could. We should give her a broadside. But we should
+probably give her one broadside after another."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Suppose the balls all hit her?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, you may suppose that. I should like to suppose it, if I were the
+officer in command."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What would they do to her?&mdash;to that enemy ship?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If they all hit? Hinder her from doing any more mischief."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Break her masts, tear up her rigging, make a wreck of her generally.
+Perhaps sink her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But suppose while you are fighting that she fights too?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Extremely probable."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If a shot came in here&mdash;could it come in here?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Certainly. Cannon balls will go almost anywhere."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If it came in here, what would it do?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Kill three or four of the men at a gun, perhaps; tear away a bit of
+the ship's side; or perhaps disable the gun."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"While you were firing at the enemy on this side, the guns of the other
+side, I suppose, would have nothing to do?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They might be fighting another enemy on that side," said the
+midshipman, smiling.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I should think," said Dolly, looking down the long line of the gun
+deck, and trying to imagine the state of things described,&mdash;"I should
+think it would be most dreadful!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have no doubt you would think so."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't <I>you</I> think so?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have never been in action yet."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't you hope you never will?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The young man laughed a little. "What would be the use of ships of war,
+if there were never any fighting? I should have nothing to do in the
+world."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You might do something else," said Dolly, gazing at the lines of black
+guns stretching along both sides of the deck, so near to each other, so
+black, so grim. "How many men does it take to manage each gun? You said
+<I>three or four</I> might be killed."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"According to the size of the gun. Twelve men for these guns; larger
+would take fifteen."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Again Dolly meditated; in imagination peopled the solitary place with
+the active crowd of men which would be there if each gun had twelve
+gunners, filled the silence with the roar of combined discharges,
+thought of the dead and wounded; at last turned her eyes to the blue
+ones that were watching her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wonder if God likes it?" she said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Likes what?" said the midshipman in wonder.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Such work. I don't see how He <I>can</I>."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How can you help such work? People cannot get along without fighting."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He did not speak carelessly or mockingly or banteringly; rather with a
+gentle, somewhat deliberate utterance. Yet Dolly was persuaded there
+was no unmanly softness in him; she never doubted but that he would be
+ready to do his part in that dreadful work, if it must be done.
+Moreover, he was paying to this odd little girl a delicate sort of
+respect and treating her with great consideration. Her confidence, as I
+said, had been entirely given to him before; and now some gratitude
+began to mingle with it, along with great freedom to speak her mind.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't think God can like it," she repeated.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What would you do, then?" he also repeated, smiling. "Let wicked
+people have their own way?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If they are not to have their own way, you must stop them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think this is a dreadful way of stopping them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's a bad job for the side that goes under," the young officer
+admitted.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't believe God likes it," Dolly concluded for the third time,
+with great conviction.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is that your rule for everything?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes. Isn't it your rule?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have to obey orders," he answered, watching her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't you obey <I>His</I> orders?" said Dolly wistfully.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not know what they are."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, but they are in the Bible. You can find them in the Bible."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Does it say anything about fighting?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly tried to think, and got confused. Certainly it did say a good
+deal about fighting, but in various ways, it seemed to her. She did not
+know how to answer. She changed the subject.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How do you get the shot, the balls, I mean, into these guns? I don't
+see how you get at them. The mouths are out of the windows. Port holes,
+I mean."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+For the upper gun deck had been put to a certain extent in order of
+action, and the guns were run out.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are of an inquiring disposition," said the midshipman gravely.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Am I?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think you are."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But I should like to know"&mdash;pursued Dolly, looking at the muzzle of
+the gun by which they were standing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The guns would be run in to be loaded."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly looked at the heavy piece of metal, and at him, but did not
+repeat her question.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now you want to know how," he said, smiling. "If I were captain, I
+would have the men here and show you. The gun is run in by means of
+this tackle, see!&mdash;and when it is charged, it is bowsed out again."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Seeing Dolly's wise grave eyes bent upon the subject, he went on to
+amuse her with a full detail of the exercise of the gun; from "casting
+loose," to the finishing "secure your guns;" explaining the manner of
+handling and loading, and the use of the principal tackle concerned.
+Dolly listened, intent, fascinated, enchained; and I think the young
+man was a little fascinated too, though his attentions were given to so
+very young a lady. Dolly's brown eyes were so utterly pure and grave
+and unconscious; the brain at work behind them was so evidently clear
+and busy and competent; the pleasure she showed was so
+unschoolgirl-like, and he thought so unchildlike, and at the same time
+so very far from being young lady-like. What she was like, he did not
+know; she was an odd little apparition there in the gun-deck of the
+"Achilles," leaning with her elbows upon a gun carriage, and surveyeing
+with her soft eyes the various paraphernalia of conflict and carnage
+around her. Contrast could hardly be stronger.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Suppose," said Dolly at last, "a shot should make a hole in the side
+of the ship, and let in the water?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well? Suppose it," he answered.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Does that ever happen?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Quite often. Why not?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What would you do then?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Pump out the water as fast as it came in,&mdash;if we could."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Suppose you couldn't?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then we should go down."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And all in the ship?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All who could not get out of it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How could any get out of it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In the boats."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh!&mdash;I forgot the boats. Would they hold everybody?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Probably not. The other ships' boats would come to help."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The officers would go first, I suppose?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Last. The highest officer of all would be the last man on board."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He must do his duty. If he cannot save his ship, at least he must save
+his men;&mdash;all he can. He is there to do his duty."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think it would be better not to be there at all," said Dolly very
+gravely.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who would take care of you then, if an enemy's fleet were coming to
+attack Philadelphia?" said the young officer.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I would go home," said Dolly. "I don't know what would become of
+Philadelphia. But I do not think God can like it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Shall we go above where it is more cheerful? or have you seen it all?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly gave him her hand again and let him help her till they got on
+deck. There they went roaming towards the fore part of the vessel,
+looking at everything by the way; Dolly asking the names and the
+meaning of things, and receiving explanations, especially regarding the
+sails and rigging and steering of the ship. She was even shown where
+the sailors made their home in the forecastle. As they were returning
+aft, Dolly stopped by a coil of rope on deck and began pulling at an
+end of it. Her companion inquired what she wanted?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I would like a little piece," said Dolly; "if I could get it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A piece of rope?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes;&mdash;just a little bit; but it is very strong; it won't break."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She was tugging at a loose strand.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How large a bit do you want?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, just a little piece," said Dolly. "I wanted just a little piece to
+keep&mdash;but it's no matter. I wanted to keep it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A keepsake?" said the young man. "To remember us by? They are breaking
+up,"&mdash;he added immediately, casting his glance aft, where a stir and a
+gathering and a movement on deck in front of the captain's cabin could
+now be seen, and the sound of voices came fresh along the breeze. "They
+are going&mdash;there is no time now. I will send you a piece, if you will
+tell me where I can send it. Where do you live?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, will you? Oh, thank you!" said Dolly, and her face lifted
+confidingly to the young officer grew sunny with pleasure. "I live at
+Mrs. Delancy's school;&mdash;but no, I don't! I don't live there. My home is
+at Uncle Edward's&mdash;Mr. Edward Eberstein&mdash;in Walnut Street."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What number?" said the midshipman, using his pencil again on the much
+scribbled piece of paper; and Dolly told him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And whom shall I send the&mdash;the piece of rope, to?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, yes!&mdash;Dolly Copley. That is my name. Good bye, I must go."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dolly Copley. You shall have it," said he, giving the little hand she
+held out to him a right sailorly grasp. And Dolly ran away. In the
+bustle and anxiety of getting lowered into the little boat again she
+forgot him and everything else; however, so soon as she was safely
+seated and just as the men were ordered to "give way," she looked up at
+the great ship they were leaving; and there, just above her, leaning on
+the guards and looking over and down at her, she saw her midshipman
+friend. Dolly saw nothing else till his face was too small in the
+distance to be any longer recognised.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap05"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER V.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+THE PIECE OF ROPE.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+It was Saturday and holiday, and Dolly went home to her aunt's. There
+her aunt and uncle, as was natural, expected a long story of the
+morning's experience. And Dolly one would think might have given it;
+matter for the detail was not wanting; yet she seemed to have little to
+tell. On the other hand, she had a great deal to ask. She wanted to
+know why people could not do all their fighting on land; why ships of
+war were necessary; Mr. Eberstein tried to explain that there might be
+great and needful advantages attendant upon the use of them. Then Dolly
+begged for instances. Had we, Americans, ever fought at sea? Mr.
+Eberstein answered that, and gave her details of facts, while Mrs.
+Eberstein sat by silent and watched Dolly's serious, meditative face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I should think," said Dolly, "that when there is a fight, a ship of
+war would be a very dreadful place."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is no doubt of that, my little girl," said Mr. Eberstein. "Take
+the noise, and the smoke, the packed condition of one of those gun
+decks, and the every now and then coming in of a round shot, crashing
+through planks and timbers, splintering what comes in its way, and
+stretching half a dozen men at once, more or less, on the floor in dead
+and wounded,&mdash;I think it must be as good a likeness of the infernal
+regions as earth can give&mdash;in one way at least."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In what way?" Dolly asked immediately.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Confusion of pain and horror. Not wickedness."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Uncle Ned, do you think God can like it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then isn't it wicked?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, little one; not necessarily. No sort of pain or suffering can be
+pleasing to God; we know it is not; yet sin has made it necessary, and
+He often sends it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't He always send it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why no. Some sorts people bring on themselves by their own folly and
+perverseness; and some sorts people work on others by their own wicked
+self-will. God does not cause that, though He will overrule it to do
+what He wants done."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Uncle Ned, do you think we shall ever have to use our ships of war
+again?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We are using them all the time. We send them to this place and that
+place to protect our own people, and their merchant vessels and their
+commerce, from interference and injury."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, but I mean, in fighting. Do you think we shall ever have to send
+them to fight again?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Probably."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To fight whom?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That I don't know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then why do you say 'probably'?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Because human nature remains what it was, and will no doubt do the
+same work in the future that it has done from the beginning."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why is fighting part of that work, Uncle Ned?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah, why! Greed, which wants what is the right of others; pride, which
+resents even a fancied interference with its own; anger, which cries
+for revenge; these are the reasons."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly looked very deeply serious.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why do you care so much about it, Dolly?" her aunt asked at length,
+after a meditative pause of several minutes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I would be sorry to have the 'Achilles' go into battle," said Dolly;
+and a perceptible slight shudder passed over her shoulders.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is the 'Achilles' so much to you, just because you have seen her?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No&mdash;" said Dolly thoughtfully; "it isn't the <I>ship;</I> it's the people."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh!&mdash;But what do you know of the people?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I saw a good many of them, Aunt Harry."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Politic Dolly! She had really seen only one. Yet she had no idea of
+being politic; and why she did not say whom she had seen, and what
+reason she had for being interested in him, I cannot tell you.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+From that time Dolly's reading took a new turn. She sought out in the
+bookcases everything that related to sailors and ships, and especially
+naval warfare, and simply devoured it. The little Life of Lord Nelson,
+by Southey, in two small calf-bound volumes, became her darling book.
+Better than any novel, for it was <I>true</I>, and equal to any novel for
+its varied, picturesque, passionate, stirring life story. Dolly read
+it, till she could have given you at any time an accurate and detailed
+account of any one of Nelson's great battles; and more than that, she
+studied the geography of the lands and waters thereby concerned, and
+where possible the topography also. I suppose the "Achilles" stood for
+a model of all the ships in which successively the great commander
+hoisted his flag; and if the hero himself did not take the form and
+features of a certain American midshipman, it was probably because
+there was a likeness of the subject of the Memoir opposite to the
+title-page; and the rather plain, rather melancholy, rather feeble
+traits of the English naval captain, could by no effort of imagination
+be confounded with the quiet strength and gentle manliness which Dolly
+had found in the straight brows and keen blue eyes and kindly smile of
+her midshipman friend. That would not do. Nelson was not like him, nor
+he like Nelson; but Dolly had little doubt but he would do as much, if
+he had occasion. In that faith she read on; and made every action
+lively with the vision of those keen-sighted blue eyes and firm sweet
+mouth in the midst of the smoke of battle and the confusion of orders
+given and received. How often the Life of Nelson was read, I dare not
+say; nor with what renewed eagerness the Marine Dictionary and its
+plates of ships and cannon were studied and searched. From that,
+Dolly's attention was extended to other books which told of the sea and
+of life upon it, even though the life were not war-like. Captain Cook's
+voyages came in for a large amount of favour; and Cooper's "Afloat and
+Ashore," which happened about this time to fall into Dolly's hands, was
+devoured with a hunger which grew on what it fed. Nobody knew; she had
+ceased to talk on naval subjects; and it was so common a thing for
+Dolly to be swallowed up in some book or other whenever she was at
+home, that Mrs. Eberstein's curiosity was not excited.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Meanwhile school days and school work went on, and week succeeded week,
+and everybody but Dolly had forgotten all about the "Achilles;" when
+one day a small package was brought to the door and handed in "For Miss
+Dolly Copley." It was a Saturday afternoon. Dolly and her aunt were
+sitting comfortably together in Mrs. Eberstein's workroom upstairs, and
+Mr. Eberstein was there too at his secretary.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"For me?" said Dolly, when the servant brought the package in. "It's a
+box! Aunt Harry, what can it be?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Open and see, Dolly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Which Dolly did with an odd mixture of haste and deliberation which
+amused Mrs. Eberstein. She tore off nothing, and she cut nothing;
+patiently knots were untied and papers unfolded, though Dolly's fingers
+trembled with excitement. Papers taken off showed a rather small
+pasteboard box; and the box being opened revealed coil upon coil,
+nicely wound up, of a beautifully wrought chain. It might be a watch
+chain; but Dolly possessed no watch.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What is it, Aunt Harry?" she said in wondering pleasure as the coils
+of the pretty woven work fell over her hand.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It looks like a watch chain, Dolly. What is it made of?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Eberstein inspected the work closely and could not determine.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But who could send me a watch chain?" said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Somebody; for here is your name very plainly on the cover and on the
+paper."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The boy is waiting for an answer, miss."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Answer? To what? I don't know whom to answer," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There's a note, miss."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A note? where?&mdash;Oh, here <I>is</I> a note, Aunt Harry, in the bottom of the
+box. I did not see it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"From whom, Dolly?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly did not answer. She had unfolded the note, and now her whole face
+was wrinkling up with pleasure or fun; she did not hear or heed her
+aunt's question. Mrs. Eberstein marked how her colour rose and her
+smile grew sparkling; and she watched with not a little curiosity and
+some impatience till Dolly should speak. The little girl looked up at
+last with a face all dimples.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"O Aunt Harry! it's my piece of rope."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your <I>piece of rope</I>, my dear?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes; I wanted a piece of rope; and this is it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is not a piece of rope."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, it is; it is made of it. I could not think what it was made of;
+and now I see. Isn't it beautifully made? He has picked a piece of rope
+to pieces, and woven this chain of the threads; isn't it beautiful? And
+how kind! How kind he is."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"<I>Who</I>, Dolly? Who has done it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, the midshipman, Aunt Harry."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"<I>The</I> midshipman. What one? You didn't say anything about a
+midshipman."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I saw him, though, and he said he would send me a piece of rope. I
+wanted a piece, Aunt Harry, to remember the ship by; and I could not
+break a bit off, though I tried; then he saw me trying, and it was just
+time to go, and he said he would get it and send it to me. I thought he
+had forgotten all about it; but here it is! I am so glad."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dear, do you call that a piece of rope?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, yes, Aunt Harry; it is woven out of a piece of rope. He has
+picked the rope apart and made this chain of the threads. I think he is
+very clever."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"<I>Who</I>, my dear? Who has done it, Dolly?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The midshipman, Aunt Harry."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What midshipman?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"On the 'Achilles.' I saw him that day."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did you see only one midshipman?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No; I suppose I saw a good many. I didn't notice any but this one."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And he noticed you, I suppose?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, a little"&mdash;said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did he notice nobody beside you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know, Aunt Harry. Not that time, for I was alone."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Alone! Where were all the rest, and Mrs. Delancy?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Eating lunch in the captain's cabin."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did you have no lunch?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I had a biscuit one of the officers gave me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And have you got a note there from the midshipman?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, Aunt Harry."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What does he say?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly unfolded the note again and looked at it with great
+consideration; then handed it to Mrs. Eberstein. Mrs. Eberstein read
+aloud.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+"Ship '<I>Achilles</I>,'
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"<I>Dec</I>. 5, 18&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Will Miss Dolly Copley please send a word to say that she has received
+her piece of cable safe? I thought she would like it best perhaps in a
+manufactured form; and I hope she will keep it to remember the
+'Achilles' by, and also
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A. CROWNINSHIELD."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+"What's all that?" demanded Mr. Eberstein now from his writing-desk.
+Mrs. Eberstein bit her lips as she answered,
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Billet-doux."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Aunt Harry," said Dolly now doubtfully, "must I write an answer?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Edward," said Mrs. Eberstein, "shall I let this child write a note to
+a midshipman on board the 'Achilles'? What do you think? Come and
+counsel me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Eberstein left his writing, informed himself of the circumstances,
+read "A. Crowninshield's" note, and gave his decision.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The 'Achilles'? Oh yes, I know Captain Barbour very well. It's all
+right, I guess. I think Dolly had better write an answer, certainly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+So Dolly fetched her writing materials. Her aunt looked for some
+appeals for advice now on her part; but Dolly made none. She bent over
+her paper with an earnest face, a little flushed; but it seemed she was
+in no uncertainty what to say or how to say it. She did not offer to
+show her finished note to Mrs. Eberstein; I think it did not occur to
+her; but in the intensity of her concentration Dolly only thought of
+the person she was writing to and the occasion which made her write.
+Certainly she would have had no objection that anybody should see what
+she wrote. The simple words ran as follows:
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+"MR. CROWNINSHIELD,
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have got the chain, and I think it is beautiful, and I am very much
+obliged to you. I mean to keep it and wear it as long as I live. You
+are very kind.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"DOLLY COPLEY."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+The note was closed and sent off; and with that Dolly dismissed the
+subject, so far at least as words were concerned; but Mrs. Eberstein
+watched her still for some time handling and examining the chain,
+passing it through her fingers, and regarding it with a serious face,
+and yet an expression in the eyes and on the lips that was almost
+equivalent to a smile.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What are you going to do with it, Dolly?" Mrs. Eberstein asked at
+length, wishing to get into the child's thoughts.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll keep it, Aunt Harry. And when I have anything to wear it with, I
+will wear it. When I am old enough, I mean."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What did you do to that young fellow, to make him show you such an
+attention?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do to him? I didn't do anything to him, Aunt Harry!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It was very kind of him, wasn't it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"<I>Very</I> kind. I guess he is kind," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Maybe we shall see him again one of these days, and have a chance to
+thank him. The midshipmen get leave to come on shore now and then."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+But no such chance offered. The "Achilles" sailed out of those waters,
+and her place in the river was empty.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap06"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER VI.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+END OF SCHOOL TERM.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Dolly's school life is not further of importance in this history; or no
+further than may serve to fill out the picture already given of
+herself. A few smooth and uneventful years followed that first coming
+to Philadelphia; not therefore unfruitful because uneventful; perhaps
+the very contrary. The little girl made her way among her fellow pupils
+and the teachers, the masters and mistresses, the studies and drills
+which busied them all, with a kind of sweet facility; such as is born
+everywhere, I suppose, of good will. Whoever got into scrapes, it was
+never Dolly Copley; whoever was chidden for imperfect recitations, such
+rebukes never fell on her; whoever might be suspected of mischief, such
+suspicion could not rest for a moment on the fair, frank little face
+and those grave brown eyes. The most unpopular mistress had a friend in
+Dolly; the most refractory school-girl owned to a certain influence
+which went forth from her; the most uncomfortable of her companions
+found soothing in her presence. People who are happy themselves can
+drop a good deal of oil on the creaking machinery around them, and love
+is the only manufactory where the oil is made.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+With all this smooth going, it may be supposed that Dolly's progress in
+knowledge and accomplishments would be at least satisfactory; and it
+was more than that. She prospered in all she undertook. The teacher of
+mathematics said she had a good head for calculation; the French
+mistress declared nature had given her a good ear and accent; the
+dancing master found her agile and graceful as a young roe; the drawing
+master went beyond all these and averred that Miss Copley would
+distinguish him and herself. "She has an excellent manner of handling,
+madame," he said,&mdash;"and she has an eye for colour, and she will have a
+style that will be distinguished." Moreover, Dolly's voice was sweet
+and touching, and promised to be very effective.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+So things went on at school; and at home each day bound faster the
+loving ties which united her with her kind protectors and relations.
+Every week grew and deepened the pleasure of the intercourse they held
+together. Those were happy years for all parties. Dolly had become
+rather more talkative, without being less of a bookworm. Vacations were
+sometimes spent with her mother and father, though not always, as the
+latter were sometimes travelling. Dolly missed nothing; Mrs.
+Eberstein's house had come to be a second home.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+All this while the "Achilles" had never been heard of again in the
+neighbourhood of Philadelphia. Neither, though Dolly I am bound to say
+searched faithfully all the lists of ship's officers which were
+reported in any American ports, did she ever so much as see the name of
+A. Crowninshield. She always looked for it, wherever a chance of
+finding it might be; she never found it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Such was the course of things, until Dolly had reached her seventeenth
+year and was half through it. Then, in the spring, long before school
+term ended, came a sudden summons for her. Mr. Copley had received the
+appointment of a consulship in London; he and his family were about to
+transfer themselves immediately to this new sphere of activity, and
+Dolly of course must go along. Her books were hastily fetched from
+school, her clothes packed up; and Dolly and her kind friends in Walnut
+Street sat together the last evening in a very subdued frame of mind.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't see what your father wanted of a consulship, or anything else
+that would take him out of his country!" Mr. Eberstein uttered his
+rather grumbling complaint. "He has enough to satisfy a man without
+that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But what papa likes is precisely something to take him out of the
+country. He likes change"&mdash;said Dolly sorrowfully.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He won't have much change as American Consul in London," Mr. Eberstein
+returned. "Business will pin him pretty close."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose it will be a change at first," said Dolly; "and then, when
+he gets tired of it, he will give it up, and take something else."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And you, little Dolly, you are accordingly to be shoved out into the
+great, great world, long before you are ready for it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is the world any bigger over there than it is on this side?" said
+Dolly, with a gleam of fun.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, yes," said Mr. Eberstein. "Most people think so. And London <I>is</I>
+a good deal bigger than Philadelphia."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The world is very much alike all over," remarked Mrs. Eberstein; "in
+one place a little more fascinating and dangerous, in another a little
+less."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Will it be more or less, over there, for me, Aunt Harry?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It would be 'more' for you anywhere, Dolly, soon. Why you are between
+sixteen and seventeen; almost a woman!" Mrs. Eberstein said with a sigh.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, not yet, Aunt Harry. I'll be a girl yet awhile. I can be that in
+England, can't I, as well as here?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Better," said Mr. Eberstein.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But the world, nevertheless, <I>is</I> a little bigger out there, Ned," his
+wife added.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In what way, Aunt Harry? And what do you mean by the 'world' anyhow?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I mean what the Lord was speaking of, when He said to His disciples,
+'If ye were of the world, the world would love his own; but because ye
+are not of the world, but I have chosen you out of the world, therefore
+the world hateth you.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That means, bad people?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Some of them are by no means bad people. Some of them are delightful
+people."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then I do not quite understand, Aunt Harry. I thought it meant not
+only <I>bad</I> people, but gay people; pleasure lovers."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Aren't you a lover of pleasure, Dolly?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh yes. But, Aunt Harry," Dolly said seriously, "I am <I>not</I> a 'lover
+of pleasure more than a lover of God.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, thanks to His goodness! However, Dolly, people may be just as
+worldly without seeking pleasures at all. It isn't that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What is it, then?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know how to put it. Ned, can you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, Hal," said Mr. Eberstein pondering, "it comes to about this, I
+reckon. There are just two kingdoms in the world, upon earth I mean."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes. Well? I know there are two kingdoms, and no neutral ground. But
+what is the dividing line? That is what we want to know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If there is no neutral ground, it follows that the border line of one
+kingdom is the border line of the other. To go out of one, is to go
+into the other."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well? Yes. That's plain."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then it is simple enough. What belongs to Christ, or what is done for
+Him or in His service, belongs to His kingdom. Of course, what is <I>not</I>
+Christ's, nor is done for Him, nor in His service, belongs to the
+world."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was a silence here of some duration; and then Dolly exclaimed, "I
+see it. I shall know now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What, Dolly?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How to do, Aunt Harry."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How to do what?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Everything. I was thinking particularly just then"&mdash;Dolly hesitated.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, of what?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of dressing myself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dressing yourself, you chicken?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, Aunt Harry. I see it. If I do not dress for Christ, I do it for
+the world."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't go into another extreme now, Dolly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, Aunt Harry. I cannot be wrong, can I, if I do it for Christ?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wonder how many girls of sixteen in the country have such a thought?
+And I wonder, how long will you be able to keep it, Dolly?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why not, Aunt Harry?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"O child! because you have got to meet the world."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What will the world do to me?" Dolly asked, half laughing in her
+simple ignorance.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"When I think what it will do to you, Dolly, I am ready to break my
+heart. It will tempt you, child. It will tempt you with beauty, and
+with pleasant things; pleasant things that look so harmless! and it
+will seek to persuade you with sweet voices and with voices of
+authority; and it will show you everybody going one way, and that not
+your way."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But I will follow Christ, Aunt Hal."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you will have to bear reproach."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I would rather bear the world's reproach, than His."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you don't get over-persuaded, child, or deafened with the voices!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She will have to do like the little girl in the fairy tale," said Mr.
+Eberstein; "stuff cotton in her ears. The little girl in the fairy tale
+was going up a hill to get something at the top&mdash;what <I>was</I> she going
+for, that was at the top of the hill?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I know!" cried Dolly. "I remember. She was going for three things. The
+Singing bird and the Golden water, and&mdash;I forget what the third thing
+was."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, you see what that means," Mr. Eberstein went on. "She was going
+up the hill for the Golden water at the top; and there were ten
+thousand voices in her ears tempting her to look round; and if she
+looked, she would be turned to stone. The road was lined with stones,
+which had once been pilgrims. You see, Dolly? Her only way was to stop
+her ears."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I see, Uncle Ned."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What shall Dolly stop her ears with?" asked Mrs. Eberstein.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"These words will do. 'Whether ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do,
+do all to the glory of God.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was little more talking, for as the evening drew on, the
+heaviness of the parting weighed too hard upon all hearts. The next day
+Dolly made the journey to Boston, and from there to her parents' house;
+and her childhood's days were over.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap07"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER VII.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+PLAYTHINGS.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Dolly did not know that her childhood was over. Every pulse of her
+happy little heart said the contrary, when she found herself again
+among her old haunts and was going the rounds of them, the morning
+after her return home. She came in at last to her mother, flushed and
+warm.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mother, what are we going away for?" she began.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your father knows. I don't. Men never know when they are well off."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do women?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I used to think so."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is it as pleasant in England as it is here?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Depends on where you are placed, I suppose, and <I>how</I> you are placed.
+How can I tell? I have never been in England."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mother, we have got the prettiest little calf in the barn that you
+ever saw."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In the barn! A queer place for a calf to be, it seems to me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, because they want to keep it from the cow. Johnson is going to
+rear it, he says. I am so glad it is not to be killed! It is spotted,
+mother; all red and white; and so prettily spotted!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+An inarticulate sound from Mrs. Copley, which might mean anything.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And, mother, I have been getting the eggs. And Johnson has a hen
+setting. We shall have chickens pretty soon."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dolly Copley, how old are you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sixteen last Christmas, mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And seventeen next Christmas."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, ma'am, but next Christmas is not come yet."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Seems to me, it is near enough for you to be something besides a
+child."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What's the harm, mother?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Harm?" said Mrs. Copley with a sharp accent; "why, when one has a
+woman's work to do, one had better be a woman to do it. How is a child
+to fill a woman's place?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have only a child's place to fill, just now," said Dolly merrily. "I
+have no woman's work to do, mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, you have. You have got to go into society, and play your part in
+society, and be married by and by; and <I>then</I> you'll know that a
+woman's part isn't so easy to play."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly looked grave.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But we are going to England, mother; where we know nobody. I don't see
+how we are to go into much society."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you suppose," said Mrs. Copley very irately, "that with your
+father's position his wife and daughter will not be visited and receive
+invitations? That is the one thing that reconciles me to going. We
+shall have a very different sort of society from what we have here. Why
+you will go to court, Dolly; you will be presented; and of course you
+will see nothing but people of the very best circles."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't care about going to court."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why not? You are a goose; you know nothing about it. Why don't you
+want to go to court? Your father's daughter may, as well as some other
+people's. Why don't you care about it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It would be a great deal of fuss; and no use."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No use! Yes, it would; just the use I am telling you. It would
+introduce you to the best society."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But I am not going to live in England all my life, mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How do you know?" very sharply. "How do you know where you are going
+to live?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, father won't stay there always, will he?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am sure I don't know what your father will take into his head. I may
+be called to end my days in Japan. But you&mdash;Look here; has your aunt
+made you as old-fashioned as she is herself?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How, mother?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am sure I can't tell how! There are ever so many ways. There's the
+benevolent sort, and there's the devout sort, and there's the
+puritanical sort. Has she put it into your head that it is good to be a
+hermit and separate yourself from the rest of the world?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly laughed and denied that charge.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She's a very good woman, I suppose; but she is ridiculous," Mrs.
+Copley went on. "Don't be ridiculous, whatever you are. You can't do
+any good to anybody by being ridiculous."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But people may call things ridiculous, that are not ridiculous,
+mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't let them <I>call</I> you ridiculous, then," said Mrs. Copley,
+chopping her words in the way people do when impatience has the
+management of them. "You had better not. The world is pretty apt to be
+right."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly let the subject go, and let it go from her mind too; giving
+herself to the delights of her chickens, and the calf, and the nests of
+eggs in the hay mow. More than half the time she was dancing about out
+of doors; as gay as the daffodils that were just opening, as delicate
+as the Van Thol tulips that were taking on slender streaks and threads
+of carmine in their half transparent white petals, as sweet as the
+white hyacinth that was blooming in Mrs. Copley's window. Within the
+house Dolly displayed another character, and soon became indispensable
+to her mother. In all consultations of business, in emergencies of
+packing, in perplexities of arrangements, Dolly was ready with a sweet,
+clear common sense, loving hands of skill, and an imperturbable
+cheerfulness and patience. It was only a few weeks that the confusion
+lasted; during those weeks Mrs. Copley came to know what sort of a
+daughter she had. And even Mr. Copley began to divine it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Copley has been no more than mentioned. He was a comely,
+intelligent, active, energetic man; a very good specimen of a typical
+Yankee who has enjoyed the advantages of education and society. He had
+plenty of common sense, acute business faculties, and genial manners;
+and so was generally a popular man among his compeers. His inherited
+family property made him more than independent; so his business
+dealings were entered into rather for amusement and to satisfy the
+inborn Yankee craving to be doing something, than for need or for gain.
+Mr. Copley laid no special value on money, beyond what went to make him
+comfortable. But he lacked any feeling for art, which might have made
+him a collector and connoisseur; he had no love for nature, which might
+have expended itself in grounds and gardens; he cared little for
+knowledge, except such as he could forthwith use. What was left to him
+but business? for he was not of those softly natures which sit down at
+home in the midst of their families and are content. However, Mr.
+Copley could value his home belongings, and had an eye to discern
+things.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He was watching Dolly, one day just before their departure, as she was
+busying herself with a bunch of violets; putting some of them in a
+glass, sticking some of them in her mother's hair, finally holding the
+bunch under her father's nose.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dolly," said her father, "I declare I don't know whether you are most
+of a child or a woman!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose I can be both, father; can't I?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know about that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So I tell her," said Mrs. Copley. "It's all very well as long as she
+is here; but I tell her she has got to give up being a child and
+playing with the chickens."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why must I?" said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You will find other playthings on the other side," said her father,
+fondly putting his arm round her and drawing her up to him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Will they be as good as chickens? What will they be?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, there, 'what will they be,' she asks! I do believe that Dolly has
+no idea," Mrs. Copley remarked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She will find out soon enough," said Mr. Copley contentedly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What will they be, father?" Dolly repeated, making for the present a
+plaything of her father's head; for both her soft arms were around it,
+and she was touching first one side and then the other side with her
+own cheeks. Mr. Copley seemed to enjoy the play, for he gave himself up
+to it luxuriously and made no answer.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dolly has been long enough in Philadelphia," Mrs. Copley went on. "It
+is time she was away."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So I think."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Father," said Dolly now, "have I done with going to school?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There ensued a debate upon this question; Dolly herself taking the
+negative and her mother the affirmative side. She wanted her daughter
+at home, she said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But not till I am fit to be at home, mother?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Fit? Why are you not fit?" said Mrs. Copley. "You know as much as I
+did when I was married; and I should think that would be enough. I do
+not see what girls want with so much crammed into their heads,
+nowadays! It does them no good, and it does nobody else any good."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do you think you want, Dolly, more than you have already?" her
+father asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, father, I do not know <I>anything</I>. I have only begun things."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Humph! Not know anything. I suppose you can read and write and cipher?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And you can play and sing," added Mrs. Copley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very little, mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And your drawings are beautiful."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, no, mother! That is one especial thing that I want to do better; a
+great deal better."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think they are good enough. And you have music enough. What's the
+use? When you are married you will give it all up."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My music and my drawing, mother?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes. Every girl does."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But I am not going to be married."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not just yet,"&mdash;said Mr. Copley, drawing the soft arms round his
+neck,&mdash;"not just yet, Dolly. But when a girl is known to have so much
+money as you will have, there are sure to be plenty of fellows after
+her. Somebody will catch you up, some of these days."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Somebody who wants my money, father?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Everybody wants money"&mdash;Mr. Copley answered evasively.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They would not come and tell you so, I suppose?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not exactly. That isn't the game."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then they would pretend to like me, while they only wanted my money?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mr. Copley, do you think what notions you are putting in Dolly's head?
+Don't you know yet, that whatever you put in Dolly's head, stays
+there?" Mrs. Copley objected.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I like that," said Dolly's father. "Most girls' heads are like paper
+fly traps&mdash;won't hold anything but a fly. Dolly, in the pocket of my
+overcoat that hangs up in the hall, there is something that concerns
+you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Which pocket, father?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ay, you've got your head on your shoulders! That's right. In the inner
+breast pocket, my dear. You'll find a small packet, tied up in paper."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Being brought and duly opened, Mr. Copley's fingers took out of a small
+paper box a yet smaller package in silk paper and handed it to Dolly.
+It was a pretty little gold watch.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why didn't you wait till you go to Geneva, Mr. Copley?" said his wife.
+"You could have got it cheaper and better there."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How do you know, my dear, without knowing how much I paid for this, or
+how good it is? I am not going to Geneva, either. Well, Dolly?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly gave her father a mute kiss, which was expressive.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"<I>You</I> think it will do, then. What will you wear it on? I should have
+thought of that. You must have a chain."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, I have got a chain!" Dolly cried, and off she ran to fetch it. She
+came back presently with the little box which had been sent her from
+the "Achilles," and sat down by the lamp to put the watch on the chain.
+Her father's eye rested on her as she sat there, and well it might. The
+lamp-light fell among the light loose curls of brown hair, glanced from
+the white brow, showed the delicate flush with which delight had
+coloured her cheeks, and then lit up the little hands which were busy
+with gold and wreathen work of the cable chain. The eyes he could not
+see; the mouth, he thought, with its innocent half smile, was as sweet
+as a mouth could be. Mrs. Copley was looking that way too, but seeing
+somewhat else. Eyes do see in the same picture such different things.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What have you got there, Dolly?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A chain, mother. I am so glad! I never could wear it, before. Now I am
+so glad."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What is it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A chain, mother," said Dolly, holding it up.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What sort of a chain? Made of what?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly told her story. Mrs. Copley examined and wondered at the elegance
+of the work. Mr. Copley promised Dolly a chain of gold.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not want it, father. I like this," said Dolly, putting the chain
+round her neck.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not better than a gold one?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, father, I do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, child?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It reminds me of the time, and of the person that made it; and I like
+it for all that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who was the person? what was his name?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A midshipman on the 'Achilles.' His name was Crowninshield."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A good name," said Mr. Copley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why that was five and a half years ago, child. Did he make such an
+impression on you? Where is he now?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have never seen him since?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nor heard of him. I could not even find his name in any of the lists
+of officers of ships, that I saw sometimes in the paper."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll look for it," said Mr. Copley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+But though he was as good as his word, he was no more successful than
+Dolly had been.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap08"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER VIII.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+LONDON.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Copley did not like London. So she declared after a stay of some
+months had given her, as she supposed, an opportunity of judging. The
+house they inhabited was not in a sufficiently fashionable quarter, she
+complained; and society did not seem to open its doors readily to the
+new American consul.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose, mother, we have not been here long enough. People do not
+know us."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do you call 'long enough'?" said Mrs. Copley with sharp emphasis.
+"And how are people to know us, if they do not come to see us? When
+people are strangers, is the very time to go and make their
+acquaintance; I should say."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"English nature likes to know people before it makes their
+acquaintance," Mr. Copley remarked. "I do not think you have any cause
+to find fault."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No; you have all <I>you</I> want in the way of society, and you have no
+notion how it is with me. That is men's way. And what do you expect to
+do with Dolly, shut up in this smoky old street? You might think of
+Dolly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dolly, dear," said her father, "are you getting smoked out, like your
+mother? Do you want to go with me and see the Bank of England to-day?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly made a joyful spring to kiss her thanks, and then flew off to get
+ready; but stopped at the door.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Won't you go too, mother?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And tire myself to death? No, thank you, Dolly. I am not so young as I
+was once."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are a very young woman for your years, my dear," said Mr. Copley
+gallantly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But I should like to know, Frank," said Mrs. Copley, thawing a little,
+"what you do mean to do with Dolly?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Take her to see the Bank of England. It's a wonderful institution."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You know what I mean, Frank. Don't run away from my question. You have
+society enough, I suppose, of the kind that suits you; but Dolly and I
+are alone, or as near as possible. What is to become of Dolly, shut up
+here in smoke and fog? You should think of Dolly. I can stand it for
+myself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There'll be no want of people to think of Dolly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If they could see her; but they don't see her. How are they to see
+her?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll get you a place down in the country, if you like; out of the
+smoke."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I should like it very much. But that will not help Dolly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, it will; help her to keep fresh. I'll get her a pony."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mr. Copley, you will not answer me! I am talking of Dolly's prospects.
+You do not seem to consider them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How old is Dolly?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Seventeen."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Too young for prospects, my dear."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not too young for us to think about it, and take care that she does
+not miss them. Mr. Copley, do you know Dolly is very handsome?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She is better than that!" said Mr. Copley proudly. "I understand
+faces, if I don't prospects. There is not the like of Dolly to be seen
+in Hyde Park any day."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why don't you take her to ride in the Park then, and let her be seen?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you want her to marry an Englishman?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Copley was silent, and before she spoke again Dolly came in, ready
+for her expedition.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+London was not quite to Dolly the disappointing thing her mother
+declared it. She was at an age to find pleasure in everything from
+which a fine sense could bring it out; and not being burdened with
+thoughts about "prospects," and finding her own and her mother's
+society always sufficient for herself, Dolly went gaily on from day to
+day, like a bee from flower to flower; sucking sweetness in each one.
+She had a large and insatiable appetite for the sight and knowledge of
+everything that was worth seeing or knowing; it followed, that London
+was to her a rich treasure field. She delighted in viewing it under its
+historical aspect; she would study out the associations and the
+chronicled events connected with a particular point; and then, with her
+mind and heart full of the subject, go some day to visit the place with
+her father. What pleasure she took in this way it is impossible to
+tell. Mr. Copley was excessively fond and proud of his daughter, even
+though her mother thought him so careless about her interests; his life
+was a busy one, but from time to time he would spare half a day to give
+to Dolly, and then they went sight-seeing together. Old houses, old
+gateways and courts, old corners and streets, where something had
+happened or somebody had lived that henceforth could never be
+forgotten, how Dolly studied them and hung about them! Mr. Copley
+himself cared for no historical associations, neither could he
+apprehend picturesque effects; what he did care for was Dolly; and for
+her sake he would linger hours, if need were, around some bit of old
+London; and find amusement enough the while in watching Dolly. Dolly
+studied like an antiquary, and dreamed like a romantic girl; and at the
+same time enjoyed fine effects with the true natural feeling of an
+artist; though Dolly was no artist. The sense had not been cultivated,
+but the feeling was born in her. So the British Museum was to her
+something quite beyond fairyland; a region of wonders, where past ages
+went by in procession; or better, stood still for her eyes to gaze upon
+them. The Tower was another place of indescribable fascination. How
+many visits they made to it I dare not say; Dolly never had enough; and
+her delight was so much of a feast to her father that he did not grudge
+the time nor mind what he would have called the dawdling. Indeed it was
+a sort of refuge to Mr. Copley, when business perplexities or
+iterations had fairly wearied him, which sometimes happened; then he
+would flee away from the dust and confusion of present life in the city
+and lose himself with Dolly in the cool shades of the past. That might
+seem dusty to him too; but there was always a fresh spring of life in
+his little daughter which made a green place for him wherever she
+happened to be. So Mr. Copley was as contented with the condition of
+things at this time as it was in his nature to feel. He had enough
+society, as his wife had stated; he had all he wanted in that line; he
+was just as well contented to keep Dolly for the present at home and to
+himself. He did not want her to be snapped up by somebody, he said; and
+if you don't mean to have a fire, you had best not leave matches lying
+about; a sentiment which Mrs. Copley received with great scorn.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It would have, so far, suited the views of both parents, to send Dolly
+to some first-rate boarding school for a year or two. Only, they could
+not do without her. She was the staple of Mrs. Copley's life, and the
+spice of life to her husband. Dolly was kept at home therefore, and
+furnished with masters in music and drawing, and at her pressing
+request, in languages also. And just because she made diligent,
+conscientious use of these advantages and worked hard most of the time,
+Dolly the more richly enjoyed an occasional half day of wandering about
+with her father. She came home from her visit to the Bank of England in
+high glee and with a brave appetite for her late luncheon.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well," said Mrs. Copley, watching her,&mdash;"now you have tired yourself
+out again; and for what?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"O mother, it was a very great sight!" said Dolly. "I wish you had been
+along. I think it has given me the best notion of the greatness of
+England that I have got from anything yet."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Money isn't <I>everything</I>," said Mrs. Copley scornfully. "I dare say we
+have just as good banks in America."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Father says, there is nothing equal to it in the world."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is because your father is so taken with everything English. He'd
+be sure to say that. I don't know why a bank in America shouldn't be as
+good as a bank here, or anywhere."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It isn't that, mother. A bank might be <I>good</I>, in one sense; but it
+could not be such a magnificent establishment as this, anywhere but in
+England."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why not?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, the abundance of wealth here, mother; and the scale of everything;
+and the superb order and system. English system is something
+beautiful." And Dolly went on to explain to her mother the arrangements
+of the bank, and in especial the order taken for the preservation and
+gradual destruction of the redeemed notes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I should like to know what is the use of such things as banks at all?"
+was Mrs. Copley's unsatisfied comment.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why mother? don't you know? they make business so much easier, and
+safer."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wish there was no such thing as banks, then."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"O mother! Why do you say that?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then your father would maybe let business alone."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But he is fond of business!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't think business is fond of him. He gets drawn into a
+speculation here and a speculation there, by some of these people he is
+always with; and some day he will do it once too often. He has enough
+for us all now; if he would only keep to his consul's business and let
+banks alone."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Copley looked worried, and Dolly for a moment looked grave; but it
+was her mother's way to talk so.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why did he take the consulship?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ask him! Because he would rather be a nobody in England than a
+somebody in America."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mother," said Dolly after a pause, "we have an invitation to dinner."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Father and I."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not me!" cried Mrs. Copley. "You and your father, and not your
+father's wife!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose the people do not know you, mother, nor know about you; that
+must be the reason."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How do they know about you, pray?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They have seen me. At least one of them has; so father says."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"One of whom?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"One of the family."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What family is it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A rich banker's family, father says. Mr. St. Leger."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"St. Leger. That is a good name here."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They are very rich, father says, and have a beautiful place."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Some miles out of London; a good many, I think."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where is your invitation?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where?&mdash;Oh, it is not written. Mr. St. Leger asked father to come and
+bring me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And <I>Mrs.</I> St. Leger has sent you no invitation, then. Not even a
+card, Dolly?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why no, mother. Was that necessary?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It would have been civil," said Mrs. Copley. "It is what she would
+have done to an Englishwoman. I suppose they think we don't know any
+better."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly was silent, and Mrs. Copley presently went on.&mdash;"How can you go
+to dinner several miles away? You would have to come back in the night."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh no; we could not do that. Mr. St. Leger asked us to stay over till
+next day."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is just like everything else in this miserable country!" Mrs.
+Copley exclaimed. "I wish I was at home!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, why, mother? We shall go home by and by; why cannot you enjoy
+things, while we are here?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Enjoy what? Staying here in the house and seeing you and your father
+go off to dinners without me? At home I am Mrs. Copley, and it means
+something; here, it seems, I am Mr. Copley's housekeeper."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But, mother, nobody meant any affront. And you will not see us go off
+and leave you; for I shall stay at home."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Indeed you will do no such thing! I am not going to have you asked
+anywhere, really asked to a dinner, and not go. You shall go, Dolly.
+But I really think Mr. Copley might have managed to let the people know
+you had a mother somewhere. That's what he would have done, if it
+wasn't for business. It is business that swallows him up; and I don't
+know for my part what life is good for so. Once I had a husband. Now, I
+declare I haven't got anything but you, Dolly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mother, you <I>have</I> me," said the girl, kissing her. And the caress was
+so sweet that it reminded Mrs. Copley how much that one word "Dolly"
+signified; and she was quiet. And when Mr. Copley came home, and the
+subject was discussed anew, she limited herself to inquiries about the
+family and questions concerning Dolly's dress, refraining from all
+complaints on her own score.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"St. Leger?" said Mr. Copley. "Who is he? He's a goodish old fellow;
+sharp as a hawk in business; but he's solid; solid as the Bank. That's
+all there is about him; he is of no great count, except for his money.
+He'll never set the Thames on fire. What did he ask us for?&mdash;Humph!
+Well&mdash;he and I have had a good deal to do with each other. And then&mdash;"
+Mr. Copley paused and his eyes involuntarily went over the table to his
+daughter. "Do you remember, Dolly, being in my office one day, a month
+ago or more, when Mr. St. Leger came in? he and his son?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly remembered nothing about it; remembered indeed being there, but
+not who came in.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, <I>they</I> remember it," said Mr. Copley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is it a good place for Dolly to go?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dolly? Oh yes. Why not? They have a fine place out of town. Dolly will
+tell you about it when she has been there."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And what must Dolly wear?" pursued Mrs. Copley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Wear? Oh, just what everybody wears. The regular thing, I suppose.
+Dolly may wear what she has a mind to."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is just what you know she cannot, Mr. Copley. At home she might;
+but these people here are so very particular."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"About dress? Not at all, my dear. English people let you go your own
+way in that as much as any people on the face of the earth. They do not
+care how you dress."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They don't <I>care</I>, no," said Mrs. Copley; "they don't care if you went
+on your head; but all the same they judge you according to how you look
+and what you do. And us especially because we are foreigners. I don't
+want them to turn up their noses at Dolly because she is an American."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'd as lieve they did it for that as for anything," said Dolly
+laughing; "but I hope the people we are going to will know better."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They <I>will</I> know better, there is no fear," answered her father.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The subject troubled Mrs. Copley's head, however, from that time till
+the day of the dinner; and even after Dolly and her father had driven
+off and were gone, she still debated with herself uneasily whether a
+darker dress would have done better, and whether Dolly ought to have
+had flowers in her hair, to make her very best impression upon her
+entertainers. For Dolly had elected to wear white, and would deck
+herself with no ornament at all, neither ribband nor flower. Mrs.
+Copley half grumbled, yet could not but allow to herself that there was
+nothing to wish for in the finished effect; and Dolly was allowed to
+depart; but as I said, after she was gone, Mrs. Copley went on
+troubling herself with doubts on the question.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap09"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER IX.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+THE PEACOCKS.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+No doubts troubled Dolly's mind during that drive, about dress or
+anything else. Her dress she had forgotten indeed; and the pain of
+leaving her mother at home was forced to give way before the multitude
+of new and pleasant impressions. That drive was pure enjoyment. The
+excitement and novelty of the occasion gave no doubt a spur to Dolly's
+spirits and quickened her perceptions; they were all alive, as the
+carriage rolled along over the smooth roads. What could be better than
+to drive so, on such an evening, through such a country? For the
+weather was perfect, the landscape exceedingly rich and fair, the
+vegetation in its glory. And the roads themselves were full of the most
+varied life, and offered to the little American girl a flashing,
+changing, very amusing and abundantly suggestive scene. Dolly's eyes
+were incessantly busy, yet her lips did not move unless to smile; and
+her father for a long time would not interrupt her meditations. Good
+that she should forget herself, he thought; if she were recalled to the
+practical present maybe she would grow nervous. That was the only thing
+Mr. Copley was afraid of. However, for him to keep absolute silence
+beyond a limited time was out of his nature.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are you happy, Dolly?" he asked her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very happy, father! If only mother was with us."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah, yes, it would have been rather pleasanter for you; but you must
+not mind that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am afraid I do not mind it enough, I am so amused with everything. I
+cannot help it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's right. Now, Dolly"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, father"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I should like to know what you have been thinking of all this while. I
+have been watching the smiles coming and going."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not know that I was thinking at all&mdash;until just now; just before
+you spoke."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And of what then?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It came to me, I do not know why, a question. We have passed so many
+people who seemed as if they were enjoying themselves,&mdash;like me;&mdash;and
+so many pretty-looking places, where people might live happy, one would
+think; and the question somehow came to me, father, what I am going to
+do with my own life?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do with it?" said Mr. Copley astonished; "why enjoy it, Dolly. Every
+day as much as to-day."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But perhaps one cannot enjoy life always," said Dolly thoughtfully.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All you can, then, dear; all you can. There is nothing to prevent
+<I>your</I> always enjoying it. You will have money enough; and that is the
+main thing. There is nothing to hinder your enjoying yourself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But, father, don't you think one ought to do more with one's life than
+that?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes; you'll marry one of these days, and so make somebody else enjoy
+himself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What would become of you and mother then?" asked Dolly shyly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We'd get along," said Mr. Copley. "What we care about, is to see you
+enjoy life, Dolly. Are you enjoying it now, puss?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very much, father."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then so am I."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The carriage left the high road here, and Dolly's attention was again,
+seemingly, all bestowed on what she saw from its windows. Her father
+watched her, and could not observe that she was either timid or excited
+in the prospect of the new scenes upon which she was about to enter.
+Her big brown eyes were wide open, busy and interested, at the same
+time wholly self-forgetful. Self-forgetful they remained when arriving
+at the house, and when she was introduced to the family; and her manner
+consequently left nothing to be desired. Yet house and grounds and
+establishment were on a scale to which Dolly hitherto had been entirely
+unaccustomed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was a small dinner party gathered, and Dolly was taken in to
+table by young Mr. St. Leger, the son of their host. Dolly had seen
+this gentleman before, and so in this concourse of strangers she felt
+more at home with him than with anybody. Young Mr. St. Leger was a very
+handsome fellow; with regular features and soft, rather lazy, blue
+eyes, which, however, were not insipid. Dolly rather liked him; the
+expression of his features was gentle and good, so were his manners. He
+seemed well pleased with his choice of a companion, and did his best to
+make Dolly pleased also.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are new in this part of the world?" he remarked to her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am new in any part of the world," said Dolly, dimpling, as she did
+when something struck her funnily. "I am not very old yet."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, I see," said her companion, laughing a little, though in some
+doubt whether he or she had made the fun. "How do you like us? Or
+haven't you been long enough here to judge?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have been in England a good many months."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then is it a fair question?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All questions are fair," said Dolly. "I like some things here very
+much."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I should be delighted to know what."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll tell you," said Dolly's father, who sat opposite and had caught
+the question. "She likes an old suit of armour or a collection of old
+stones in the form of an arch or a gateway; and in the presence of the
+crown jewels she was almost as bad as that Scotch lady who worshipped
+the old Regalia of the northern kingdom. Only it was the antiquity that
+Dolly worshipped, you know; not the royalty."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What is there in antiquity?" said Mr. St. Leger, turning his eyes
+again curiously to Dolly. "Old things were young once; how are they any
+better for being old?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not any better; only more interesting."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Pray tell me why."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Think of what those old stones have seen."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Pardon me; they have not <I>seen</I> anything."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Think of the eyes that have seen them, then. Or stand before one of
+those old suits of armour in the Tower, and think where it has been.
+Think of the changes that have come; and what a strange witness it is
+for the things that were and have passed away."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+"I am more interested in the present," said the young man. "I perceive
+you are romantic."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly was silent. She thought one of those halls of old armour in the
+Tower was in its attractions very far beyond the present dinner table;
+although indeed this amused her. Presently her companion began again
+and gave her details about all the guests; who they were, and how they
+happened to be there; and then suddenly asked her if she had ever been
+to the races? Dolly inquired what races; and was informed that the
+Epsom races were just beginning. Would she like to go to them? was
+inquired eagerly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly had no idea what was the real character of the show she was asked
+about; and she answered in accordance with her general craving to see
+everything. Nevertheless she was somewhat surprised, when the gentlemen
+came up from dinner, to hear the proposition earnestly made; made by
+both Mr. and Mrs. St. Leger; that she and her father should go with
+them the next day to the Epsom races; and she was greatly astonished to
+hear her father agree to the proposal, although the acceptance of it
+involved the staying another day away from home and the sleeping a
+second night at the St. Leger place. But Dolly was not consulted. The
+family expressed their pleasure in undoubted terms, and young Mr. St.
+Leger's blue eyes had a gleam of satisfaction in them, as he assured
+Dolly that now they would "show her something of interest in the
+present."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly was the youngest guest in the house, and by all rules the one
+entitled to least consideration; yet she went to sleep that night in a
+chamber the most superb she had ever inhabited in her life. She looked
+around her with wonder at the richness of every matter of detail, and a
+little private query how <I>she</I>, little Dolly Copley, came to be so
+lodged? Her mother would have no reason <I>here</I> to complain of want of
+due regard. And all the evening there had been no such complaint to
+make. People had been very kind, Dolly said to herself as she was
+falling asleep. But how <I>could</I> her father have consented to stay
+another day, for any races in the world&mdash;leaving her mother alone? But
+she could not help it; and no doubt the next day would be amusing;
+to-day had been amusing&mdash;and Dolly's thoughts went no further.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The next morning everybody drove or rode to the races. Dolly herself
+was taken by young Mr. St. Leger, along with one of his sisters, in an
+elegant little vehicle for which she knew no name. It was very
+comfortable, and they drove very fast&mdash;till the crowd hindered them,
+that is; and certainly Dolly was amused. All was novel and strange to
+her; the concourse, the equipages, the people, the horses, even before
+they arrived at the race grounds. There a good position was secured,
+and Dolly saw the whole of that day's performances. Mr. St. Leger
+attended to her unremittingly; he and his sister explained everything,
+and pointed out the people of mark within their range of vision; his
+blue eyes grew quite animated, and looked into Dolly's to see what they
+could find there, of response or otherwise. And Dolly's eyes were grave
+and wide-awake, intent, very busy, very lively, but how far they were
+brightened with pleasure he could not tell. They were bright, he saw
+that; fearless, pure, sweet eyes, that yet baffled him; no trace of
+self-consciousness or self-seeking was to be found in them; and young
+St. Leger stood a little in awe, as common men will, before a face so
+uncommon. He ventured no direct question for the satisfying of his
+curiosity until they had returned, and dinner was over. Indeed he did
+not venture it then; it was his father who asked it. He too had
+observed the simple, well-bred, lovely little maiden, and had a little
+curiosity on his own part.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, Miss Copley&mdash;now you have seen Epsom, how do you like it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly hesitated. "I have been very much interested, sir, thank you,"
+she said gravely.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But how do you <I>like</I> it? Did you enjoy it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly hesitated again. Finally smiled and confessed. "I was sorry for
+the horses."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sorry for the horses!" her host repeated. "What for?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, what for?" added the younger St. Leger. "They were not ill
+treated."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No,&mdash;" said Dolly doubtfully, "perhaps not,&mdash;but they were running
+very hard, and for nothing."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"For nothing!" echoed Mr. St. Leger again. "It was for a good many
+thousand pounds. There's many a one was there to-day who wishes they
+had run for nothing!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But after all, that is for nothing," said Dolly. "It is no good to
+anybody."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Except to those that win," said the old gentleman. "Except to those
+that win!" Probably <I>he</I> had won.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly wanted to get out of the conversation. She made no answer.
+Another gentleman spoke up, and opined, were it not for the money won
+and lost, the whole thing would fail of its attraction. It would be no
+sport indeed, if the horses ran <I>for nothing</I>. "Do you have no races
+in&mdash;a&mdash;your country?" he asked Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly believed so. She had never been present at them.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nothing like Epsom," said her father. "We shall have nothing to show
+like that for some time. But Dolly takes practical views. I saw her
+smiling out of the windows, as we drove along, coming here yesterday;
+and I asked her what she was thinking of? I expected to hear her say,
+the beauty of the plantations, or the richness of the country, or the
+elegance and variety of the equipages we passed. She answered me she
+was thinking <I>what she should do with her life!</I>"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was a general gentle note of amusement audible through the room,
+but old Mr. St. Leger laughed out in a broad "ha, ha."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What did you conclude, my dear?" said he. "What did you conclude? I am
+interested to know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I could not conclude then, sir," said Dolly, bearing the laugh very
+well, with a pretty little peach-blossom blush coming upon her cheeks.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'Tisn't difficult to know," the old gentleman went on, not unkindly
+watching Dolly's face play. "There is one pretty certain lot for a
+pretty young woman. She will manage her household, take care of her
+husband, and bring up her children,&mdash;one of these days."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is not precisely the ambition of all pretty young women,"
+remarked one of the party; while Mrs. St. Leger good humouredly drew
+Dolly down to a seat beside her and engrossed her attention.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You meant the words perhaps in another sense, more practical, that
+your father did not think of. You were thinking maybe what profession
+you would follow?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I beg your pardon, ma'am!" said Dolly, quite perplexed now. "How do
+you mean, profession?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes; perhaps you were thinking of being a governess some day, or a
+teacher, or something of that sort; were you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly's face dimpled all over in a way that seemed to young St. Leger
+the very prettiest, winningest, most uncommon loveliness that his eyes
+had ever been blessed with. Said eyes were inseparable from Dolly; he
+had no attention but for her looks and words; and his mother knew as
+much, while she too looked at the girl and waited for her answer.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh no," Dolly said; "I was not thinking of any such thing. My father
+does not wish me to do anything of the kind."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then what <I>did</I> you mean, my dear?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly lifted a pair of sweet grave eyes to the face of her questioner;
+a full, rather bloated face, very florid; with an expression of eyes
+kindly indeed, but unresting, dissatisfied; or if that is too strong a
+word, not content. Dolly looked at all this and answered&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't want to live merely to live, ma'am."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't you? What more do you want? To live pleasantly, of course; for
+not to do <I>that</I>, is not what I call living."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I was not thinking of pleasant living. But&mdash;I do not want my life to
+be like those horses running to-day," said Dolly smiling; "for nothing;
+of no use."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't you think a woman is of use and fills her place, my dear, who
+looks after her household and attends to her family, and does her duty
+by society?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes," said Dolly hesitating,&mdash;"but that is not enough." The girl was
+thinking of her own mother at the moment.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not enough? Why, yes, it is enough. That is a woman's place and
+business. What else would you do?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly was in some embarrassment now. She must answer, for Mrs. St.
+Leger was waiting for it; but her answer could not be understood. Her
+eye took in again the rich appliances for present enjoyment which
+filled the room, above, below, and around her; and then she said, her
+eye coming back&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I would like my life to be good for something that would not pass
+away."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not pass away? Why, everything passes away, my child" (and there came
+a sigh here),&mdash;"in time. The thing is to make the best of them while we
+have them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Is that all? thought Dolly, as she noticed the untested, rather sad
+look of her hostess's face; and she wished she could say more, but she
+dared not. Then young Mr. St. Leger bent forward, and inquired what she
+could be thinking of that would <I>not</I> pass away? His mother saw the
+look with which his blue eyes sought the face of the little stranger;
+and turned away with another sigh, born half of sympathy with her boy's
+feeling and half of jealousy against the subject of it. Dolly saw the
+look too, but did not comprehend it. She simply wondered why these
+people put her through the catechism so?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What could you be thinking of?" St. Leger repeated, sliding into the
+seat his mother had quitted.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't you know anything that will last?" Dolly retorted.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said the young man, laughing. "Do you? Except that I have heard
+that 'A thing of beauty is a joy forever.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+This, which was a remarkable flight for St. Leger, was lost upon simple
+Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, I know that is true," she answered; "but that is just a way of
+speaking. It would not be a joy to me, if I had not something else to
+hold to. I am sorry for you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Really? I wish I could think that. It would be delightful to have you
+sorry for me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It would be much better not to need it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know about that. Perhaps, if you were very sorry for me, you
+would try to teach me better."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Perhaps; but I shall not have time. I suppose we shall go away very
+early in the morning."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I should like to show you the gardens, first."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Haven't we seen them?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, of course not. All that you have seen is a little shrubbery and a
+bit of the park. Suppose we go over the gardens in the morning?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am sure we shall return home immediately after breakfast."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Before breakfast then? Why not?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+This plan went into effect. It was an occasion of great pleasure to
+both parties. No better time could be for seeing the utmost beauty of
+the flowers; and Dolly wandered in what was to her a wilderness of an
+enchanted land. Breakfast was forgotten; and young St. Leger was so
+charmed with this perfectly fresh, simple, and lively nature, that he
+for his part was willing to forget it indefinitely. Dolly's utter
+delight, and her intelligent, quick apprehension, the sparkle in her
+eye, the happy colour in her cheeks, made her to his fancy the rarest
+thing he had ever seen. The gardener, who was summoned to give
+information of which his young master was not possessed, entertained
+quite the same opinion; and thanks to his admiring gratification Dolly
+went back to the house the possessor of a most superb bouquet, which he
+had cut for her and offered through Mr. St. Leger.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There were some significant half smiles around the breakfast table, as
+the young pair and the flowers made their appearance. St. Leger braved
+them; Dolly did not see them. Her sweet eyes were full of the blissful
+enchantment still. Immediately after breakfast, as she had said, her
+father took leave.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Copley had awaited their coming in a mood half irritation, half
+gratification. The latter conquered when she saw Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now tell me all about it!" she said, before Dolly even could take off
+her bonnet.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She went to the races," said Mr. Copley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's a queer place for Dolly to go, Mr. Copley."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not at all. Everybody goes that can go."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think it's a queer place for young ladies to go," persisted the
+mother.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is a queer place enough for anybody, if you come to that; but no
+worse for them than for others; and it is they make the scene so pretty
+as it is."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I can't imagine how there should be anything pretty in seeing horses
+run to death!" said Mrs. Copley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I just said it is the pretty girls that give the charm," said her
+husband. "Though <I>I</I> can see some beauty in a fine horse, and in good
+riding; and they understand riding, those Epsom jockeys."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Jockeys!" his wife repeated. "I don't want to hear you talk about
+jockeys, Mr. Copley."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am not going to, my dear. I give up the field to Dolly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mother, the first thing was the place. It is a most beautiful place."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The race-ground?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, no, mother; Mr. St. Leger's place. 'The Peacocks,' they call it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do they give it such a ridiculous name for?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know. Perhaps they used to have a great many peacocks. But the
+place is the most beautiful place I ever saw. Mother, we were half an
+hour driving from the lodge at the park gate to the house."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The road so bad?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So <I>long</I>, mother; think of it; half an hour through the park woods,
+until we carne out upon the great lawn dotted with the noblest trees
+you ever saw."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Better than the trees in Boston common? I guess not," said Mrs. Copley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Those are good trees, mother, but nothing to these. These are just
+magnificent."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't see why fine trees cannot grow as well on American ground as
+on English," said Mrs. Copley incredulously.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Give them time enough," put in her husband.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Time!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes. We are a new country, comparatively, my dear. These old oaks here
+have been growing for hundreds of years."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And what should hinder them from growing hundreds of years over there?
+I suppose the <I>ground</I> is as old as England; if Columbus didn't
+discover it all at once."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The ground," said Mr. Copley, eyeing the floor between his
+boots,&mdash;"yes, the ground; but it takes more than ground to make large
+trees. It takes good ground, and favouring climate, and culture; or at
+least to be let alone. Now we don't let things alone in America."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I know <I>you</I> don't," said his wife. "Well, Dolly, go on with your
+story."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, mother,&mdash;there were these grand old trees, and beautiful grass
+under them, and cattle here and there, and the house showing in the
+distance. I did not like the house so very much, when we came to it; it
+is not old; but it is exceedingly handsome, and most beautifully
+furnished. I never had such a room in my life, as I have slept in these
+two nights."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And yet you don't like it!" put in Mr. Copley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I like it," said Dolly slowly. "I like all the comfort of it; but I
+don't think it is very pretty, father. It's very <I>new</I>."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"New!" said her father. "What's the harm of a thing's being new? And
+what is the charm of its being old?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know," said Dolly thoughtfully; "but I like it. Then, mother,
+came the dinner; and the dinner was like the house."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That don't tell me anything," exclaimed Mrs. Copley. "What was the
+house like?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mother, you go first into a great hall, set all round with marble
+figures&mdash;statues&mdash;and with a heavy staircase going up at one side. It's
+all marble. But oh, the flower garden is lovely!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, tell me about the house," said Mrs. Copley. "And the dinner. Who
+was there?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know," said Dolly; "quite a company. There were one or two
+foreign gentlemen; a count somebody and a baron somebody; there was an
+English judge, and his wife, and two or three other ladies and
+gentlemen."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How did you like the gentlemen, Dolly?" her father asked here.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I had hardly anything to do with them, except the two Mr. St. Legers."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How did you like <I>them?</I> I suppose, on your principle, you would tell
+me that you liked the <I>old</I> one?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Never mind them," said Mrs. Copley; "go on about the dinner. What did
+you have?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, everything, mother; and the most beautiful fruit at dessert; fruit
+from their own hothouses; and I saw the hothouses, afterwards. Most
+beautiful! the purple and white grapes were hanging in thick clusters
+all over the vines; and quantities of different sorts of pines were
+growing in another hothouse. I had a bunch of Frontignacs this morning
+before breakfast, father; and I never had grapes taste so good."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, you must have wanted something," said Mr. Copley; "wandering
+about among flowers and fruit till ten o'clock without anything to eat!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Poor Mr. St. Leger!" said Dolly. "But he was very kind. They were all
+very kind. If they only would not drink wine so!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Wine!" Mrs. Copley exclaimed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It was all dinner time; it began with the soup, and it did not end
+with the fruit, for the gentlemen sat on drinking after we had left
+them. And they had been drinking all dinner time; the decanters just
+went round and round."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nonsense, Dolly!" her father said; "you are unaccustomed to the world,
+that is all. There was none but the most moderate drinking."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It was all dinner time, father."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is the custom of gentlemen here. It is always so. Tell your
+mother about the races."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't like the races."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why not?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, tell me what they were, at any rate," said Mrs. Copley. "It is
+the least you can do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know how to tell you," said Dolly. "I will try. Imagine a
+great flat plain, mother, level as far as the eye can see. Imagine a
+straight line marked out, where the horses are to run; and at the end
+of it a post, which is the goal, and there is the judges' stand. All
+about this course, on both sides, that is towards the latter part of
+the course, fancy rows of carriages, drawn up as close as they can
+stand, the horses taken out; and on these carriages a crowd of people
+packed as thick as they can find room to sit and stand. They talk and
+laugh and discuss the horses. By and by you hear a cry that the horses
+have set off; and then everybody looks to see them coming, with all
+sorts of glasses and telescopes; and everybody is still, waiting and
+watching, until I suppose the horses get near enough for people to
+begin to judge how the race will turn out; and then begins the
+fearfullest uproar you ever heard, everybody betting and taking bets.
+<I>Everybody</I> seemed to be doing it, even ladies. And with the betting
+comes the shouting, and the cursing, and the cheering on this one and
+that one; it was a regular Babel. Even the ladies betted."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Every one does it," said Mr. Copley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And the poor horses come running, and driven to run as hard as they
+can; beautiful horses too, some of them; running to decide all those
+bets! I don't think it is an amusement for civilised people."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why not?" said her father.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is barbarous. There is no sense in it. If the white horse beats the
+black, I'll pay you a thousand pounds; but if the black horse beats the
+white, you shall pay me two thousand. Is there any sense in that?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Some sense in a thousand pound."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Lost"&mdash;said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is better not to lose, certainly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But somebody must lose. And people bet in a heat, before they know
+what they ought to say; and bet more than they have to spare; I saw it
+yesterday."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"<I>You</I> didn't bet, Mr. Copley?" said his wife.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A trifle. My dear, when one is in Rome, one must do as the Romans do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did you lose?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I gained, a matter of fifty pounds."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who did you gain it from, father?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Lawrence St. Leger."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He has no right to bet with his father's money."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Perhaps it is his own. I will give you twenty pound of it, Dolly, to
+do what you like with."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+But Dolly would have none of it. If it was to be peace money, it made
+no peace with her.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap10"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER X.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+BRIERLEY COTTAGE.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+A few months later than this, it happened one day that Mr. Copley was
+surprised in his office by a visit from young St. Leger. Mr. Copley was
+sitting at a table in his own private room. It was not what you would
+call a very comfortable room; rather bare and desolate looking; a
+carpet and some chairs and desks and a table being the only furniture.
+The table was heaped up with papers, and desks and floor alike
+testified to an amount of heterogeneous business. Busy the Consul
+undoubtedly was, writing and studying; nevertheless, he welcomed his
+visitor. The young man came in like an inhabitant of another world, as
+he was; in spotlessly neat attire, leisurely manner, and with his blue
+eyes sleepily nonchalant at the sight of all the stir of all the world.
+But they smiled at Mr. Copley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You seem to have your bands full," he remarked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Rather. Don't I? Awfully! Secretary taken sick&mdash;confoundedly
+inconvenient." Mr. Copley went on writing as he spoke.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There are plenty of secretaries to be had."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, but I haven't got hold of 'em yet. What brings you here,
+Lawrence? Not business, I suppose?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not business with the American Consul."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No. I made out so much by myself. What is it? I see all's right with
+you, by your face."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Thank you. Quite so. But you can't attend to me just now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Go ahead," said Mr. Copley, whose pen did not cease to scribble. "I
+can hear. No time for anything like the present minute. I've got <I>this</I>
+case by heart, and don't need to think about it. Go on, Lawrence. Has
+your father sent you to me?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sit down, and tell me what I can do for you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. St. Leger sat down, but did not immediately comply with the rest of
+the invitation. He rested his elbow on the table, looked at Mr.
+Copley's pen for a few minutes, and said nothing; until Mr. Copley
+again glanced up at his face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not know that you can do anything for me," said the young man
+then; "only you can perhaps answer a question or two. Mr. Copley, would
+you like to have me for a son-in-law?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said the Consul shortly; "nor any other man. I'd as lieve have
+you as anybody, Lawrence."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Thank you. I couldn't expect more. But you must allow somebody in that
+capacity, Mr. Copley."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Must I? Depends on how much Dolly likes somebody."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is just what I want to find out about myself," said the young man
+eagerly. "Then you would not put any hindrance?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In the way of Dolly's happiness? Not if I know it. But <I>that's</I> got to
+be proved."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You know, Mr. Copley, she would be happy with me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How do I know that? I know nothing of the kind. It all depends on
+Dolly, I tell you. What does she think about it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's just what I don't know and cannot find out. I have no chance. I
+cannot get sight of her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Her mother's sick, you see. It keeps Dolly at home."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My mother has proposed several times to take Miss Copley out with her,
+and she will not go."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She's very kind, and we are grateful; but Dolly won't leave her
+mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So she says. Then how am I to see her, Mr. Copley? I can't expect her
+to like me if I never see her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know, my boy. Wait till better times."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Wait" is a word that lovers never want to hear; and Lawrence sat
+discontentedly watching the play of Mr. Copley's pen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You know it would be all right about the money," he said at length.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, yes; between your father and her father, I guess we could make it
+comfortable for you two. But the thing is all the while, what Dolly
+thinks of you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And how am I to find that out?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Can't tell, I declare. Unless you volunteer to become my secretary."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Does your secretary live in your family?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course he does. One of us completely."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Will you take me, Mr. Copley?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, but you would never take the drudgery. It is not in your line."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Try me," said the young man. "I'll take it at once. Will you have me,
+Mr. Copley? But <I>she</I> must not know what you take me for. I don't care
+for the drudgery. Will you let me come? On trial?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why is the boy in earnest? This is Jacob and Rachel over again!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not for seven years, I hope."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, I shall not stay in this old crib as long as that. The question
+will have to be decided sooner. We haven't so much time to spare as
+those old patriarchs. But Dolly must have time to make up her mind, if
+it takes seven years. She is a queer little piece, and usually has a
+mind of her own. About this affair she certainly will. I'll give Mrs.
+Copley a hint to keep quiet, and Dolly will never suspect anything."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lawrence was so thoroughly in earnest that he insisted on going to work
+at once. And the next day he was introduced at the house and made at
+home there.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was quite true that Mrs. Copley was unwell; the doctors were not yet
+agreed as to the cause. She was feeble and nervous and feverish, and
+Dolly's time was wholly devoted to her. In these circumstances St.
+Leger's coming into the family made a very pleasant change. Dolly
+wondered a little that the rich banker's son should care to do business
+in the American Consul's office; but she troubled her head little about
+it. What he did in the office was out of her sphere; at home, in the
+family, he was a great improvement on the former secretary. Mr. Barr,
+his predecessor, had been an awkward, angular, taciturn fourth person
+in the house; a machine of the pen; nothing more. Mr. St. Leger brought
+quite a new life into the family circle. It is true, he was himself no
+great talker; but his blue eyes were eloquent. They were beautiful
+eyes; and they spoke of kindness of heart, gentleness of disposition,
+and undoubted liking for his present companions. There was refinement
+too, and the habit of the world, and the power of comprehending at
+least what others spoke; and gentle as he was, there was also now and
+then a gleam which showed some fire and some persistent self-will; that
+amount of backbone without which a man's agreeable qualities go for
+nothing with women. It was pleasant, his respectful attention to Mrs.
+Copley; it was pleasant too the assistance he was to Mr. Copley's
+monologues; if he did not say a great deal himself, his blue eyes gave
+intelligent heed, and he could also now and then say a word in the
+right place. With Dolly he took very soon the familiar habit of a
+brother. She liked him, she liked to pour out his coffee for him, it
+amused her to hear her father talk to him, she was grateful for his
+kindness to her mother; and before long the words exchanged between
+themselves came in the easy, enjoyable tone of a thorough good
+understanding. I don't know but St. Leger would have liked a little
+more shyness on her part. Dolly was not given to shyness in any
+company; and as to being shy with him, she would as soon have thought
+of being on terms of ceremony with Berdan, the great hound that her
+father was so proud of. And poor St. Leger was more hopelessly in love
+every day. Dolly was so fresh and cool and sweet, as she came down to
+breakfast in her white wrapper; she was so despairingly careless and
+free; and at evening, dressed for dinner, she was so quiet and simple
+and graceful; it was another thing, he said to himself, seeing a girl
+in this way, from dancing with her in a cloud of lace and flowers in a
+crowded room, and talking conventional nothings. Now, on the contrary,
+he was always admiring Dolly's practical business ways; the quick eye
+and capable hand; the efficient attention she bestowed on the affairs
+of the household and gave to her father's and mother's comfort, and
+also not less to his own. And she was quaint; she moved curiosity. With
+all her beauty, she never seemed to think of her looks; and with all
+her spirit and sense, she never seemed to talk but when she had
+something to say; while yet, if anything in the conversation deserved
+it, it was worth while to catch the sparkle of Dolly's eye and see her
+face dimple. Nevertheless, she would often sit for a long time silent
+at the table, when others were talking, and remind nobody voluntarily
+of her presence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Spring had come now, and London was filling; and Lawrence was hoping
+for some gaieties that would draw Dolly out into society,
+notwithstanding his secret confession about ball rooms. He wanted to
+see how she would bear the great world, how she would meet it; but
+still more he hoped to have some chance to make himself of importance
+to her. And then the doctors decided that Mrs. Copley must go into the
+country.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+What was to be done? Mr. Copley could not quit London without giving up
+his office. To any distance Mrs. Copley could not go without him. The
+dilemma, which Lawrence at first had heard of with dismay, turned for
+his advantage; or he hoped so. His father owned a cottage in a pretty
+part of the country, not a great many miles from London, which cottage
+just then was untenanted. Mr. Copley could run down there any day (so
+could he); and Mrs. Copley would be in excellent air, with beautiful
+surroundings. This plan was agreed to, and Lawrence hurried away to
+make the needful arrangements with his father and at the cottage.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh dear!" said Mrs. Copley, when all this was communicated to
+her,&mdash;"why can't we go home?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Father is not ready for that, mother," Dolly said somewhat sadly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where is this place you are talking of?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Down in Berkshire. Mr. St. Leger says you will be sure to like it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mr. St. Leger doesn't know everything. Is the house furnished?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I believe so. Oh, I hope it will be very pleasant, mother dear. It's a
+pretty place; and they say it will be very good for you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who says so?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The doctors"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"<I>They</I> don't know everything, either. I tell you what I believe would
+do me good, Dolly, only your father never wants what I want, unless he
+wants it at a different time; I should like to go travelling."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Travelling!&mdash;Where?" Dolly exclaimed and inquired.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Anywhere. I want a change. I am so tired of London, I could die! I
+have swallowed dust and fog enough to kill me. I should like to go
+where there is no dust. That would be a change. I should like to go to
+Venice."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Venice! So should I," said Dolly in a changed tone. "Well, mother,
+we'll go down first to this cottage in the country&mdash;they say it's
+delightful there;&mdash;and then, if it does you good, you'll be well
+enough, and we will coax father to take us to Italy."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't care about Italy. I only want to be quiet in Venice, where
+there are no carts or omnibusses. I don't believe this cottage will do
+me one bit of good."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mother, I guess it will. At any rate, I suppose we must try."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wish your father could have been contented at home, when he was well
+off. It's very unlucky he ever brought us here. I don't see what is to
+become of you, for my part."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly suppressed a sigh at this point.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You know what the Bible says, mother. 'All things shall work together
+for good, to them that love God.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't want to hear that sort of talk, Dolly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why not, mother?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It don't mean anything. I would rather have people show their religion
+in their lives, than hear them talk about it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But, mother, isn't there comfort in those words?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No. It ain't true."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"O mother! <I>What</I> isn't true?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That. There is a difference between things, and there is no use trying
+to make out they're all alike. Sour isn't sweet, and hard ain't soft.
+What's the use of talking as if it was? I always like to look at things
+just as they are."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But, mother!"&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now, don't talk, Dolly, but just tell me. What is the good of my
+getting sick just now? just now, when you ought to be going into
+company? And we have got to give up our house, and you and I go and
+bury ourselves down in some out-of-the-way place, and your father get
+along as he can; and how we shall get along without him to manage, I am
+sure I don't know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He will run down to see us often, mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The master's eye wants to be all the while on the spot, if anything is
+to keep straight."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But this is such a little spot; I think my eye can manage it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then how are you going to take care of me?&mdash;if you are overseeing the
+place. And I don't believe my nerves are going to stand it, all alone
+down there. It'll be lonely. I'd rather hear the carts rattle. It's
+dreadful, to hear nothing."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, we will try how it goes, mother; and if it does not go well, we
+will try somewhere else."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The house in town was given up, and Mr. Copley moved into lodgings.
+Some furniture and two servants were sent down to the cottage; but the
+very day when the ladies were to follow, Mr. Copley was taken
+possession of by some really important business. The secretary
+volunteered to supply his place; and in his company Mrs. Copley and
+Dolly made the little journey, one warm summer day.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly had her own causes for anxiety, the weightier that they must be
+kept to herself. Nevertheless, the influence of sweet nature could not
+be withstood. The change from city streets and crowds to the green
+leafiness of June in the country, the quiet of unpaved roads, the
+deliciousness of the air full of scents from woodland and field,
+excited Dolly like champagne. Every nerve thrilled with delight; her
+eyes could not get enough, nor her lungs. And when they arrived at the
+cottage, Brierley Cottage it was called, she was filled with a glad
+surprise. It was no common, close, musty, uncomfortable little
+dwelling; but a roomy old house with plenty of space, dark oak
+wainscotings, casement windows with little diamond panes, and a wide
+porch covered with climbing roses and honeysuckle. These were in
+blossom now, and the air was perfumed with their incomparable
+sweetness. Round the house lay a small garden ground, which having been
+some time without care looked pretty wild.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly uttered her delight as the party entered the porch. Mrs. Copley
+passed on silently, looking at everything with critical eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What a charming old house, mother! so airy and so old-fashioned, and
+<I>everything</I> so nice."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am afraid there is not much furniture in it," remarked the secretary.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We don't want much, for two people," said Dolly gaily.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But when your father brings a dinner party down," said Mrs. Copley;
+"how does he suppose we shall manage then? You must have chairs for
+people to sit on."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly did not answer; it had struck her that her father had no
+intention of bringing dinner parties down, and that he had made his
+arrangements with an evident exclusion of any such idea. He had thought
+two women servants enough. For the rest, leaving parties out of
+consideration, the house had a rambling supply of old furniture,
+suiting it well enough; it looked pretty, and quaint, and cool; and
+Dolly for her part was well content.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They went over the place, taking a general survey; and then Mrs. Copley
+lay down on a lounge while supper was getting ready, and Dolly and Mr.
+St. Leger went out to the porch. Here, beyond the roses and
+honeysuckles, the eye found first the wild garden or pleasure ground.
+There was not much of it, and it was a mere tangle of what had once
+been pretty and sweet. It sloped, however, down to a little stream
+which formed the border of the property; and on the other side of this
+stream the ground rose in a grassy bank, set with most magnificent oaks
+and beeches. A little foot-bridge spanned the stream and made a
+picturesque point in the view, as a bridge always does. The sun was
+setting, throwing his light upon that grassy bank and playing in the
+branches of the great oaks and beeches. Dolly stood quite still, with
+her hands crossed upon her bosom, looking.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The garden has had nothing done to it," said St. Leger. "That won't
+do. It's quite distressing."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose father never thought of engaging a gardener," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We have gardeners to spare, I am sure, at home. I'll send over one to
+train those vines and put things in some shape. You'd find him useful,
+too, about the house. I'll send old Peters; he can come as well as not."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, thank you! But I don't know whether father would choose to afford
+a gardener," said Dolly low.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He shall not afford it. I want him to come for my own comfort. You do
+not think I want your father to pay my gardener."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are very kind. What ground is that over there?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That? that is Brierley Park. It is a great place. The stream divides
+the park from this cottage ground."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Can one go over the bridge?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course. The place is left to itself; nobody is at the house now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why not?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose they like some other place better," said St. Leger,
+shrugging his shoulders. "You would like to go and see the house and
+the pictures. The next time I come down I'll take you there."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, thank you! And may I go over among those grand trees? may I walk
+there?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Walk there, or ride there; you may do what you like; nobody will
+hinder you. If you meet anybody that has a right to know, you can tell
+him who you are. But don't go to the house till I come to go with you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are very good, Mr. St. Leger," said Dolly gratefully. But then, as
+if shy of what he might next say, she turned and went in to her mother.
+Dolly always kept Mr. St. Leger at a certain fine, insensible distance.
+He seemed to be very near; he was really very much at home in the
+family; nevertheless, an atmospheric wall, felt but not seen, divided
+him from Dolly. It was so invisible that it was unmanageable; it kept
+him at a distance.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap11"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XI.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+IN THE PARK.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+The next day was a delightful one in Dolly's experience. Mr. St. Leger
+went back to town early in the morning; and as soon as she was free of
+him, Dolly's delight began. She attended to her mother, and put her in
+comfort; next, she examined the house and its capabilities, and
+arranged the little household; and then she gave herself to the garden.
+It was an unmitigated wilderness. The roses had grown into irregular,
+wide-spreading shrubs, with waving, flaunting branches; yet sweet with
+their burden of blushing flowers. Lilac bushes had passed all bounds,
+and took up room most graspingly. Hawthorn and eglantine, roses of
+Sharon and stocky syringas, and other bushes and climbers, had entwined
+and confused their sprays and branches, till in places they formed an
+impenetrable mass. In other places, and even in the midst of this
+overgrown thicket, jessamine stars peeped out, lilies and violets grew
+half smothered, mignonette ran along where it could; even carnations
+and pinks were to be seen, in unhappy situations, and daisies and
+larkspur and scarlet geraniums, lupins and sweet peas, and I know not
+what more old-fashioned flowers, showed their fair faces here and
+there. It was bewildering, and beyond Dolly's powers to put in order.
+She wished for old Peter's arrival; and meantime cut and trimmed a
+little here and there, gathered a nosegay of wildering blossoms,
+considered what might be done, and lost herself in the sweet June day.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At last it was growing near lunch time, and she went in. Mrs. Copley
+was lying on an old-fashioned lounge; and the room where she lay was
+brown with old oak, quaint with its diamond-paned casement windows, and
+cool with a general effect of wooden floor and little furniture; while
+roses looked in at the open window, and the light was tempered by the
+dark panelling and low ceiling. Dolly gave an exclamation of delight.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What is it?" said Mrs. Copley fretfully.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mother, this place is so lovely! and this room,&mdash;do you know how
+perfectly pretty it is?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It isn't half furnished. Not half."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But it is furnished enough. There are only two of us; and certainly
+here are all the things that we want, and a great deal more than we
+want; and it is so pretty! so pretty!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How long do you suppose there are to be only two of us?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know that, mother. Lawrence St. Leger is just gone, and I
+don't want him back, for my part. In fact, I don't believe we have
+dinner enough for three."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's another thing. Where are we going to get anything to eat?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Lunch will be ready in a minute, mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What have we got?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What you like. Frizzled beef and chocolate."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I like it,&mdash;but I don't suppose it is very nourishing. Where are we to
+get what we want, Dolly? how are we to get bread, and butter, and
+marketing?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There's a village half a mile off. And, here is lunch on the table. We
+shall not starve to-day."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Copley liked her chocolate and found the bread good. Nevertheless,
+she presently began again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are we to live here alone the rest of our lives, Dolly? or what do you
+suppose your father's idea is? It's a very lonesome place, seems to me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, mother, we came here to get you well; and it's enough to make
+anybody well. It is the loveliest place I have ever seen, I think. Mr.
+St. Leger's grand establishment is nothing to it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And what do you mean by what you said about Lawrence St. Leger? Are
+you glad to have even <I>him</I> go away?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, mother, a little bit. He was rather in my way."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In your way! that's very ungrateful. How was he in your way?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Somebody to attend to, and somebody to attend to me. I like to be let
+alone. By and by, when you are sleeping, I shall go over and explore
+the park."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What I don't understand," said Mrs. Copley, recurring to her former
+theme, "is, why, if he wanted me to be in the country, your father did
+not take a nice house somewhere just a little way out of London,&mdash;there
+are plenty of such places,&mdash;and have things handsome; so that he could
+entertain company, and we could see somebody. We can have nobody here.
+It looks really quite like poor people."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That isn't a very bad way to look," said Dolly calmly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"<I>Not?</I> Like poor people?" cried Mrs. Copley. "Dolly, don't talk folly.
+Nobody likes that look, and you don't, either."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am not particularly afraid of it. But, mother, we do not want to
+entertain company while you are not well, you know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No; and so here you are shut up and seeing no creature. I wish we were
+at home!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly did not precisely wish that; not at least till she had had time
+to examine this new leaf of nature's book opened to her. And yet she
+sighed a response to her mother's words. It was all the response she
+made.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She was too tired with her unwonted gardening exertions to go further
+exploring that afternoon. It was not till a day or two later, when
+Dolly had become somewhat more acquainted with her new life and its
+conditions, that she crossed the bridge one fair, warm June evening,
+and set her hesitating steps upon what seemed to her a wonderful piece
+of ground. She entered it immediately upon crossing the bridge. The
+green glades of the park woods were before her; the old giants of the
+park trees stretched their great arms over her and shadowed her
+footsteps. Such mighty trees! their great stems stood as if they had
+been there for ever; the leafy crown of their heads was more majestic
+than any king's diadem, and gave its protecting shelter, each of them,
+to a wide domain of earth's minor growths. Underneath their branches
+the turf was all green and gold, for the slant sun rays came in there
+and gold was in the tree tops, some of the same gold; and the green
+shadows and the golden bands and flecks of light were all still. There
+was no stir of air that evening. Silence, the stillness and solitude of
+a woodland, were all around; the only house visible from here was the
+cottage Dolly had just quitted, with its rose-covered porch.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly went a little way, and stood still to look and listen, then went
+on a few steps more. The scene had a sort of regal beauty, not like
+anything she had ever known in her life before, and belonging to
+something her life had never touched. For this was not a primeval
+forest; it was not forest at all; it was a lordly pleasure ground. A
+"pleasaunee," for somebody's delight; kept so. There was no ragged
+underbrush; there were no wildering bushes and briars; the green turf
+swept away out of sight under the great old trees clean and soft; and
+they, the oaks and beeches, stretching their arms abroad and standing
+in still beauty and majesty, seemed to say&mdash;"Yes, we belong to the
+family; we have stood by it for ages." Dolly could see no dead trees,
+nor fallen lumber of dry branches; the place was dressed, yet
+unadorned, except by its own magnificent features; so most simple, most
+lordly. The first impression almost took away Dolly's breath. She again
+went on, and again stood still, then went further; at last could go no
+further, and she sat down on the bank under the shadow of a great oak
+tree which had certainly seen centuries, and gave herself up to the
+scene and her thoughts. They did not fit, somehow, and took possession
+of her alternately. Sometimes her eyes filled with glad tears, at the
+wonderful loveliness and stateliness of nature around her; the sense of
+beauty overcame all other feelings; filling and satisfying and also
+concealing a certain promise. It was certainly the will of the Creator
+that all things should be thus perfect, harmonious, and fair. What was
+not, could be made so. But then again a shadow would come over this
+sunshine, as Dolly remembered the anxieties she had brought from home
+with her. She had meant to let herself look at them here, in solitude
+and quiet; could she do it, now she was here? But when, if not now?
+Gradually Dolly gave herself up to thinking, and forgot where she was,
+or more correctly, saw the objects around her only through a veil of
+her own thoughts.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She had several anxieties; she was obliged to confess it to herself
+unwillingly; for indeed anxiety was so new to Dolly that she had hardly
+entertained it in all her life before; and when it had knocked at her
+door, she had answered that it came to the wrong place. However, she
+could not but hear and heed the knock now; and she wanted to consider
+the matter calmly and see whether the unwelcome visitor must be really
+taken in, and lodged.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was not her mother's condition. With the buoyancy of youth, and the
+inexperience, Dolly expected that Mrs. Copley would soon get well. Her
+trouble was about her father; and the worst thing about her mother's
+state of nervous weakness was, that she could not talk to her on the
+subject or get her help and co-operation. That is, if anything were to
+be attempted to be done in the matter.&mdash;That was another question she
+wanted to consider.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In the first place, she could not help seeing one thing; that Mr.
+Copley was not flush with money as he used to be; as he had always
+been, ever since Dolly could remember. It was wholly unlike him, to
+send her and her mother down to this cottage with a household of two
+women servants; barely enough for the work that was indispensably
+necessary. Evidently, Mr. Copley entertained no idea of showing
+hospitality here in the country, and Dolly thought he had been secretly
+glad to be relieved of the necessity of doing it in town. Very unlike
+him. It was unlike him, too, to content his pride with so meagre an
+establishment. Mr. Copley loved to handle money, always spent it with a
+lavish carelessness, and was rather fond of display. What had made this
+change? Dolly had felt the change in still other and lesser things.
+Money had not been immediately forthcoming when she asked for it lately
+to pay her mantua maker's bill; and she had noticed on several
+occasions that her father had taken a 'bus instead of a hansom, or even
+had chosen to walk. A dull doubt had been creeping over her, which now
+was no longer obscure, but plainly enough revealed; her father had lost
+money. How, and where?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Impossible to answer this question. But at the same time there floated
+before Dolly's mind two vague images; Epsom and betting,&mdash;and a green
+whist table at Mr. St. Leger's, with eager busy players seated round
+it. True, the Derby came but once a year; and true, she had always
+heard that whist was a very gentlemanly game and much money never lost
+at it. She repeated those facts to herself, over and over. Yet the
+images remained; they came before her again and again; her father
+betting eagerly in the crowd of betters on the race course, and the
+same beloved figure handling the cards opposite to his friend the
+banker, at the hospitable mansion of the latter. Who should be her
+guaranty, that a taste once formed, though so respectably, might not be
+indulged in other ways and companies not so irreproachable? The more
+Dolly allowed herself to think of it, the more the pain at her heart
+bit her. And another fear came to help the former, its fit and
+appropriate congener. With the image of Mr. St. Leger and his cards,
+rose up also the memory of Mr. St. Leger's decanters; and Dolly lowered
+her head once in a convulsion of fear. She found she could not bear the
+course of her thought; it must be interrupted; and she sprang up and
+hurried on up the bank under the great trees, telling herself that it
+was impossible; that anything so terrible could not happen to her; it
+was not to be even so much as thought of. She cast it away from her,
+and resolved that it could not be. As to the rest, she thought, poverty
+is not disgrace; she would not break her heart about <I>that</I> till she
+knew there was more reason.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+So with flying foot she hastened forward, willing to put a forcible
+stop to thought by her quick motion and the new succession of objects
+before her eyes. Yet they were not very new for a while. The ground
+became level and the going grew easier; otherwise it was the same
+lovely park ground, the same wilderness of noble trees, a renewal of
+the same woodland views. Lovely green alleys or glades opened to right
+and left, bidding her to enter them; then as she went on the trees
+stood thicker again. The sun getting more low sent his beams more
+slant, gilding the sides of the great trunks, tipping the ends of
+branches with leafy glitter, laying lovely lines of light over the
+turf. Dolly wandered on and on, allured by the continual change and
+variety of lovely combination in which grass, trees, and sunlight
+played before her eyes. But after a while the beauty took a different
+cast. The old oaks and beeches ceased; she found herself among a
+lighter growth, of much younger trees, some of them very ornamental,
+and in the great diversity of kinds showing that they were a modern
+plantation. What a plantation it was! for Dolly could not seem to get
+to the end of it. She went fast; the afternoon was passing, and she was
+curious to see what would succeed to this young wood; though it is
+hardly right to call it a wood; the trees were not close to each other,
+but stood apart to give every one a fair chance for developing its own
+peculiar manner of growth. Some had reached a height and breadth of
+beauty already; some could be only beautiful at every stage of growth;
+very many of them were quite strange to Dolly; they were foreign trees,
+gathered from many quarters. She went on, until she began to think she
+must give it up and turn back; she was by this time far from home; but
+just then she saw that the plantation was coming to an end on that
+side; light was breaking through the branches. She pressed forward
+eagerly a few steps; and on a sudden stood still, almost with a cry of
+delight. The plantation did end there abruptly, and at the edge of it
+began a great stretch of level green, just spotted here and there with
+magnificent trees, singly or in groups. And at the further edge of this
+green plain, dressed, not hidden, by these intervening trees, rose a
+most beautiful building. It seemed to Dolly like a castle in a fairy
+tale, so bewitchingly lovely and stately it stood there, with the
+evening sunlight playing upon its turrets, and battlements, and all
+that grand sweep of lawn lying at its feet. This must be the "house" of
+which Lawrence had spoken; but surely it was rather a castle. The style
+was Gothic; the building stretched along the ground to a lordly extent
+for a "house," and yet in the light grace and adornment of its
+structure it hardly looked like anything so grim as a castle. The
+stillness was utter; some cattle under the trees on the lawn were the
+only living things to be seen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly could not satisfy herself with looking. This was something that
+she had read about and heard about; a real English baronial residence.
+But was it reality? it was so graceful, so noble, so wonderful. She
+must go a little nearer. Yet it was a good while before she could make
+up her mind to leave the spot where this exquisite view had first
+opened to her. She advanced then upon the lawn, going towards the house
+and scarce taking her eyes from it. There were no paths cut anywhere;
+it was no loss, for the greensward here was the perfection of English
+turf; soft and fine and thick and even. It was a pleasure to step on
+it; and Dolly stepped along, in a maze, caught in the meshes of the
+beauty around her, and giving herself up to it in willing captivity.
+But the lawn was enormously wider than she had supposed; her eye had
+not been able to measure distances on this green level; she had walked
+already a long way by the time she had got one-third of its breadth
+behind her. Still, Dolly did not much consider that; her eye was fixed
+on the house as she now drew nearer to it, busied in picking out the
+details; and she only now and then cast a glance to right or left of
+her, and never looked back. It did occur to her at last that she
+herself was like a mere little speck cast away in this ocean of green,
+toiling over it like an ant over a floor; and she hurried her steps,
+though she was beginning to be tired. Slowly, slowly she went; half of
+the breadth of lawn was behind her, and then three quarters; and the
+building was unfolding at least its external organisation to her
+curious eyes, and displaying some of its fine memberment and broken
+surface and the resulting lights and shadows. Dolly almost forgot her
+toil, wondering and delighted; though beginning also to question dimly
+with herself how she was ever to find her way home! Go back over all
+that ground she could not, she knew; as little could she have told
+where was the point at the edge of the lawn by which she had entered
+upon it. <I>That</I> way she could not go; she had a notion that at the
+house, or near it, she might find somebody to speak to from whom she
+could get directions as to some other way. So she pressed on, feeding
+her eyes as she approached it upon the details of the house.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When now more than three-fourths of the lawn ground was passed, one of
+Dolly's side glances, intended to catch the beauty of the trees on the
+lawn in their evening illumination, revealed to her a disagreeable
+fact&mdash;that, namely, she was looked upon as an intruder by some of the
+cattle; and that in especial a young bull was regarding her with
+serious and ominous bearing and even advancing slowly towards her from
+the group of his companions. It seemed to Dolly not desirable to stand
+the question, and she set off to run; which proceeding, of course,
+confirmed the young bull's suspicions, whatever they were, and he
+followed on a run also. Dolly became aware of this, and now, with all
+the strength of muscle that remained to her, fled towards the house; no
+longer seeing its Gothic mouldings and picturesque lights and shadows,
+only trying very hard to get near. She thought perhaps the creature
+would be shy of the immediate neighbourhood of the house, and not
+choose to follow her so far. But just as she reached that desirable
+vicinity she longed for, she was met by another danger, coming from the
+quarter from whence she sought safety. An enormous staghound dashed out
+from his covert somewhere, with an utterance from his deep throat which
+sounded sufficiently awful to Dolly, an angry or a warning bay, and
+came springing towards her. Dolly stood still dismayed and uncertain,
+the dog before and the bull behind; then, even before the former could
+reach her, a voice was heard calling him off and directing him to the
+advancing bull. In another minute or two a woman had come over the
+grass and stood at Dolly's side. Dolly was on her feet no longer; with
+the first breath of respite she had sunk down on the grass; nerves and
+muscles all trembling with the exertion and with the fright.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The woman came up with a business air; then as she stood beside Dolly
+her look changed. This was no common intruder, she saw; this
+delicate-featured girl; and her dress too, simple as it was, was the
+dress of a lady. Dolly on her part looked up to a face not
+delicate-featured; far from it; solid and strong built as was the
+person to which it belonged; sense and capacity and kindliness,
+however, were legible even at that first glance.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You've been rather badly frightened, ma'am, I'm afraid," she said, in
+a voice which precisely matched the face; strong and somewhat harsh,
+but kindly in accent.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very," said Dolly, whose face began to dimple now. "I am so much
+obliged to you!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not in the vary least, ma'am. But you are worried with the fright, I
+fear?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No; I'll get up," said Dolly; "I'm only tired. I believe I'm a little
+weak too. I haven't quite got over trembling, I find."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You haven't your colour yet again, ma'am. Would you come into my room
+and rest a bit?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, thank you. You are very kind!" said Dolly with sincere delight at
+this proposition. For now she was upon her feet she felt that her knees
+trembled under her, and her footsteps were unsteady as she followed the
+woman over the grass. They went towards a small door in the long line
+of the building, the staghound coming back from his chase and attending
+them gravely. The woman opened the door, led Dolly through a passage or
+two, and ushered her into a cosy little sitting-room, neat as wax,
+nicely though plainly furnished. Here she begged Dolly to rest herself
+on the sofa; and while Dolly did so she stood considering her with a
+kindly, anxious face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm all right now," said Dolly, smiling.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I beg your pardon, ma'am, but you're growing paler every minute. If
+you'll allow me, ma'am, I will fetch you a glass of wine."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Wine? Oh, no," said Dolly. "I don't want any wine. I do not drink
+wine. I am just tired. If you'll let me rest here a few minutes"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Lie still, ma'am, and don't talk."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She left the room, and Dolly lay still, with shut eyes, feeling very
+much exhausted. It was inexpressibly good to be under shelter and on
+her back; how she was to get home she could not yet consider. Before
+that question fairly came up, her entertainer was back again; but Dolly
+kept her eyes shut. If she opened them, perhaps she would have to talk;
+and she wanted nothing on earth at that moment but to be still.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+After a little interval, however, she heard the door open and a second
+person enter; and curiosity brought her eyes open then. The second
+person was a maid-servant with a tray. The tray was set upon a table,
+and Dolly heard the other woman say&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You'll bring the tea, Kitty, when I ring."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly took this as a signal that she must go; of course she was in the
+way; yet rest felt so very comfortable, that for a moment she still lay
+where she was; and lying there, she gave her hostess a more critical
+examination than she had hitherto bestowed on her. Who could she be?
+She was very well, that is very respectably, dressed; her manner and
+bearing were those of a person in authority; she was at home; but with
+gentle or noble blood she could have no connection unless one of
+service. Her features and her manner proved that. Nevertheless, both
+her face and bearing had a certain attraction for Dolly; a certain
+quiet and poise, an expression of acute intelligence and efficient
+activity, flavoured with good will, which was all very pleasant to see.
+Evidently she was not a person to be imposed upon. Dolly raised herself
+up at last to a sitting posture, preparatory to going.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are you recovered enough to be up, ma'am?" her hostess asked, standing
+still to survey her in her turn. "I'm afraid not."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, thank you, yes; I must go home. And I must ask you kindly to
+direct me; for I do not in the least know the way."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Have you come far, ma'am? I couldn't make out by what direction it was
+or could have been; for when I saw you first, you seemed to be coming
+right from the middle of the lawn."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not quite that; but a little one side of the middle I did cross the
+lawn."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not know, ma'am, anybody that lives in that direction, nor any
+village."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Brierley Cottage? You know Brierley Cottage?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I ask your pardon, ma'am; I thought that was standing empty for
+months."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It was, I suppose. We have just moved in. My mother wants country air,
+and Mr. St. Leger has let us the cottage. My mother and I are living
+there, and we came only a day or two ago. I wanted to see the beautiful
+ground and trees on this side the brook, and came over the bridge. I
+did not mean to have come so far; I had no notion of seeing the house
+or getting near it; but everything was so beautiful, I was drawn on
+from one point to another, till I found myself at the edge of the lawn.
+And then I saw the cattle, but I never thought of them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, ma'am," said the woman, looking surprised, "you must have walked
+a good bit. You must have come all through the plantations."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I should not have minded the walk so much, if I had not had the fright
+at the end of it. But now the thing is, to get home. Can you tell me
+which way? for I am completely out of my reckoning."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You will take a cup of tea first, ma'am," said the woman, ringing the
+bell. "I had it made on purpose for you. I am sure you'll be the better
+for it. I am the housekeeper here, ma'am, and my name is Jersey."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The housekeeper?" said Dolly. "I thought the family were abroad."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So they are, ma'am; and to be sure that makes me less to do; but
+enough still to take care of the place. Put the table up by the sofa,
+Kitty."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The girl had brought in the tea-pot, and Dolly saw some magnificent
+strawberries on the board. The table was shoved up, a cup of tea poured
+out, and Mrs. Jersey cut bread and butter.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How kind you are!" Dolly cried. "You are taking a great deal of
+trouble for me; a stranger."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is it for somebody that loves my Master?" said Mrs. Jersey, looking at
+her with keen eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly's face dimpled all up at this, which would have completed her
+conquest of Mrs. Jersey's heart, if there had been by this time any
+ground in that region not already subjected.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your Master?" she said. "You mean&mdash;?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, ma'am, I mean that. My Master is the Lord Jesus Christ; no other.
+One cannot have two masters; and I serve Lord Brierley only under Him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And what made you think&mdash;how did you know&mdash;that I am His servant too?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know, ma'am," said the housekeeper, smiling. "I guessed it
+when I saw you sitting on the grass there. It seems to me, if the Lord
+don't just yet write His name in their foreheads, He does put a letter
+or two of it there, so one can tell."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am very glad to find I have a friend in the neighbourhood," said
+Dolly. "I am Dolly Copley; my father is American Consul at London, and
+a friend of Mr. St. Leger."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I know Mr. St. Leger, ma'am; by name, that is."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+By this time Dolly's tea was poured out. The housekeeper served her,
+and watched her as she drank it and eat her strawberries, both of which
+were refreshing to Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think, ma'am, if you'll allow me to say it, you should not try your
+strength with quite such long walks."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I did not mean it. I was drawn on; and when I got a sight of the house
+from the other side of the lawn, I wanted to look at it nearer. I had
+no notion the distance was so much."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ay, ma'am, it's a good bit across the lawn. Perhaps you would like to
+come another day and see the house inside. I would show it to you with
+pleasure."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, may I?" said Dolly. "I should like it; oh, very much! But you are
+extremely kind, Mrs. Jersey!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is only what I do for a great many indifferent people, ma'am. I
+would think it a privilege to do it for you. My lord and lady being
+away, I have plenty of time on my hands."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wonder anybody can stay away from so beautiful a home."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They have no choice, ma'am; at least so the doctors say. Lady Brierley
+is delicate, and the air of England does not agree with her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And she must be banished from her own home!" said Dolly, looking out
+into the lovely landscape visible from the window. "How sad that is!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There's only one home one can always keep, ma'am," said the
+housekeeper, watching her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Heaven, you mean?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We are not in heaven yet. I meant what David says, 'Lord, thou hast
+been our dwelling-place in all generations.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am not sure I understand it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Only love does understand it, ma'am."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How do you mean, please?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ma'am, it is only love that can live in the life of another; and when
+that other is God, one lives in a secure and wealthy abode. And then it
+does not much matter where one's body is. At least, so I find it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly looked very thoughtful for a minute; then she rose up.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am coming again," she said; "I am coming very soon, Mrs. Jersey.
+Now, will you tell me how I can get home? I must be as quick as I can."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is provided for, ma'am," said Mrs. Jersey. "It's a longish way
+round by the road, farther than even you came this afternoon; and
+you're not fit for it; far from it, I should say. I have ordered the
+dog-cart to take you home; and it's ready."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How could you be so kind to a stranger?" said Dolly, giving her hand.
+But the housekeeper smiled.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You're no stranger to me, ma'am," she said, clasping the hand Dolly
+had given. "It is true I never saw you before; but whenever I see one
+of my Lord's children, I say to myself, 'Jersey, there is another of
+the family, and the Lord expects you to do what you can for him, or for
+her, as the case may be.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly laughed and ran away. The adventure was taking beautiful shape.
+Here she was to have a charming drive home, to end the day; a drive
+through the pretty country lanes. And they were charming in the evening
+light. And the dog-cart did not bring her to Brierley Cottage a bit too
+soon; for Mrs. Copley was already fidgeting about her.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap12"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XII.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+THE HOUSE.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Dolly did not tell all her experiences of that afternoon. She told only
+so much as might serve to quiet and amuse her mother; for Mrs. Copley
+took all occasions of trouble that came in her way, and invented a few
+more. Mrs. Jersey had sent along in the dog-cart a basket of
+strawberries for the sick lady; so Dolly hoped her mother's impressions
+of this day at least would be favourable.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did you ever see such magnificent berries, mother? black and red?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why haven't we berries in our garden?" Mrs. Copley returned.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mother, you know the garden has not been kept up; nobody has been
+living here lately."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then why did not your father get some other house, where the garden
+<I>had</I> been kept up, and we could have our own fruit and vegetables? I
+think, to be in the country and not have one's own garden and fresh
+things, is forlorn."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is one thing, mother; there are plenty of markets in this
+country."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And plenty of high prices for everything in them. Yes, if you have no
+end to your purse, you can buy things, certainly. But to look at what
+is around us here, one would think your father didn't mean us to have
+much of anything!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mother, he means you to have all you want. We thought you just wanted
+country air."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And nothing to eat?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We are not starving <I>yet</I>," said Dolly, smiling, and arranging the
+strawberries.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"These are a gift. A gift I shouldn't think your father would like to
+take, or have us take, which comes to the same thing. We used to have
+enough for ourselves and our neighbours too, once, when we were at
+home, in America. We are nobody here."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We are just ourselves, mother; what we always were. It does not make
+much difference what people think of us."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not much difference," cried Mrs. Copley, "about what people think of
+you! And then, what is to become of you, I should like to know? Nobody
+seeing you, and no chance for anything! I wonder if your father means
+you never to be married?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You do not want me married, mother; and not to an Englishman, anyhow."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why not? And how are you going to marry anybody else, out here? Can
+you tell me? But, O Dolly! I am tormented to death!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't, dear mother. That is what makes you ill. What is the matter?
+What troubles you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Copley did not answer at once.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are as sweet as a honeysuckle," she said. "And to think that
+nobody should see you!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly's dimples came out here strong.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are you tormented to death about that?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Another pause came, and Mrs. Copley finally left the table with the air
+of one who is thinking what she will not speak. She went to the
+honeysuckle porch and sat down, resting her head in her hand and
+surveying the landscape. Twilight was falling over it now, soft and
+dewy.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't see a sign of anything human, anywhere," she remarked. "Is it
+because it is so dark?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, mother; there are no houses in sight."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nor from the back windows?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where is the village you talk about?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Half a mile away; the woods and rising ground of Brierley Park hide it
+from us."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And in this wilderness your father expects me to get well!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, I think it is charming!" Dolly cried. "My drive home to-night was
+perfectly lovely, mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I didn't have it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, of course; but the country is exceedingly pretty."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I can't make your father out."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly was hushed here. She was at a loss likewise on this point.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He acts just as if he had lost his money."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly did not know what to say. She had had the same impression. To her
+inexperience, this did not seem the first of evils; but she guessed it
+would wear another face to her mother.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And if he <I>has</I>," Mrs. Copley went on, "I am sure I wish we were at
+home. England is no sort of a place for poor folks."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why should you think he has, mother?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I <I>don't</I> think he has," Mrs. Copley flamed out. "But if he hasn't, I
+think he has lost his wits."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That would be worse," said Dolly, smiling, though she felt anything
+but merry.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know about that. Nobody'll ask about your wits, if you've got
+money; and if you <I>haven't</I>, Dolly, nobody'll care what else you have."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mother, I think it is good to have one's treasure where one cannot
+lose it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I thought I had that when I married your father," said Mrs. Copley,
+beginning to cry. This was a very strange thing to Dolly and very
+terrible. Her mother's nerves, if irritable, had always been wont to
+show themselves of the soundest. Dolly saw it was not all nerves; that
+she was troubled by some unspoken cause of anxiety; and she herself
+underwent nameless pangs of fear at this corroboration of her own
+doubts, while she was soothing and caressing and arguing her mother
+into confidence again. The success was only partial, and both of them
+carried careful hearts to bed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A day or two more passed without any variation in the state of things;
+except that old Peters the gardener made his appearance, and began to
+reduce the wilderness outside to some order. Dolly spent a good deal of
+time in the garden with him; tying up rose trees, taking counsel, even
+pulling up weeds and setting plants. That was outside refreshment;
+within, things were unchanged. Mr. Copley wrote that he would run down
+Saturday, or, if he could not, he would send Lawrence. "Why shouldn't
+he come himself?" said Mrs. Copley; and, Why should he send Lawrence?
+thought Dolly. She liked it better without him. She was pleasing
+herself in her garden; finding little ways of activity that delighted
+her in and out of the house; getting wonted; and she did not care for
+the constraint of anybody's presence who must be treated as company.
+One thing she determined upon, however; Lawrence should not make the
+next visit with her at Brierley House; and to prevent it, she would go
+at once by herself.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She went that afternoon, and by an easier way of approach to the place.
+Mrs. Jersey was very glad to see her, and as soon as Dolly was rested a
+little, entered upon the fulfilment of her promise to show the house.
+Accordingly she took her visitor round to the principal entrance, in
+another side of the building from the one Dolly had first seen. Here,
+before she would go in, she stood to admire and wonder at the rich and
+noble effect; the beauty of turrets, oriels, mouldings, and arched
+windows, the wide and lofty pile which stretched away on two sides in
+such lordly lines. Mrs. Jersey told her who was the first builder; who
+had made this and that extension and addition; and then they went in.
+And the first impression here was a contrast.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The place was a great hall of grand proportions. There was nothing
+splendid here to be seen; neither furniture nor workmanship called for
+admiration, unless by their simplicity. There were some old paintings
+on the walls; there were some fine stags' horns, very large and very
+old; there were some heavy oaken settles and big chairs, on which the
+family arms were painted; the arms of the first builder; and there were
+also, what looked very odd to Dolly, a number of leather fire buckets,
+painted in like manner. Yet simple as the room was, it had a great
+charm for her. It was lofty, calm, imposing, superb. She was not ready
+soon to quit it; and Mrs. Jersey, of course, was willing to indulge her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is so unlike anything at home!" Dolly exclaimed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's in America?" said the housekeeper. "Have you no old houses like
+this there, ma'am?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, we are not old ourselves," said Dolly. "When this house was first
+begun to be built, our country was full of red Indians."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is it possible! And are there Indians there yet, ma'am?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No. Oh, yes, in the country, there are; but they are driven far
+off,&mdash;to the west&mdash;what there are of them.&mdash;This is very beautiful!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I never heard anybody call this old hall beautiful before," said the
+housekeeper, smiling.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is so large, and high, and so simple; and these old time things
+make it so respectable," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Respectable! yes, ma'am, it is that. Shall we go on and see something
+better?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+But her young visitor had fallen to studying the ceiling, which had
+curious carvings and panellings, and paintings which once had been
+bright. There was such a flavour of past ages in the place, that
+Dolly's fancy was all alive and excited. Mrs. Jersey waited, watching
+her, smiling in a satisfied manner; and then, after a while, when Dolly
+would let her, she opened the door into another apartment. A great door
+of carved oak it was, through which Dolly went expectantly, and then
+stood still with a little cry. The first thing she saw was the great
+windows, down to the floor, all along one side of a large room, through
+which a view was given into the park landscape. The grand trees, the
+beautiful green turf, the sunlight and shadow, caught her eye for a
+minute; and then it came back to the view within the windows. Opposite
+this row of windows was an enormous marble chimney-piece; the family
+arms, which Dolly was getting to know, blazoned upon it in brilliant
+colours. Right and left of the fireplace hung old family portraits. But
+when Dolly turned next to give a look at the side of the hall from
+which she had entered, she found that the whole wall was of a piece
+with the great carved door; it was filled with carvings, figures in
+high relief, very richly executed. For a long while Dolly studied these
+figures. Mrs. Jersey could give her little help in understanding them,
+but having, as she fancied, got hold of a clue, Dolly pursued it;
+admiring the life and expression in the figures, and the richly-carved
+accessories. The whole hall was a study to her. On the further side
+went up the staircases leading to the next story. Between them opened
+the entrance into the dining-hall.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Further than these three halls, Mrs. Jersey almost despaired of getting
+Dolly that day. In the dining-hall was a portrait of Queen Elizabeth;
+and before it Dolly sat down, and studied it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did she look like that?" she said finally.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Surely, she must," said the housekeeper. "The picture is thought a
+deal of. It was painted by a famous painter, I've been told."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She was very ugly, then!" said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Handsome is that handsome does," said the housekeeper, smiling; "and,
+to be sure, I never could make out that Her Majesty was altogether
+handsome in her doings; though perhaps that's the fault of my
+stupidity."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She looks cold," said Dolly; "she looks cruel."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm afraid, by all I have read of her, she was a little of both."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And how she is dressed!&mdash;Who is that, the next to her?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mary Stuart; Mary, Queen of Scotland; this lady's rival."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Rival?" said Dolly. "No, I do not think she was; only Elizabeth chose
+to think her so. How lovely, how lovely!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, and by all accounts the portrait tells truth. They say, so she
+was to be sure."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She looks so innocent, so sweet," said Dolly, fixed before the two
+pictures.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you think she wasn't?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"One cannot feel quite comfortable about her. The story is ugly, Mrs.
+Jersey. But how a woman with that face could do anything fearfully
+wicked, it is hard to imagine. Poor thing!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are very kind, I am sure, to a person of whom you hold such a bad
+opinion," said the housekeeper, amused.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am sorry for them both," said Dolly. "Life wasn't much good to
+either of them, I should think."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Queen Elizabeth had power," said Mrs. Jersey; "and Queen Mary had
+admiration, I understand."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, but Elizabeth wanted the admiration, and Mary Stuart wanted the
+power," said Dolly. "Neither of them got what she wanted."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Few people do in this world, my young lady."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you think so?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Young people generally think they will," said the housekeeper;&mdash;"and
+old people know better."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But why should that be?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Does Miss Dolly Copley know already what <I>she</I> wants?" the housekeeper
+asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said Dolly, laughing out; "not at all. I do not know what I want.
+I do not think I want anything in particular, Mrs. Jersey."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Keep so, my dear; that is best."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why? Because I should be so sure to be disappointed?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You might. But it is safe to let God choose for us, Miss Copley; and
+as soon as we begin to plan, we begin to work for our plans, generally;
+and if our plan is not <I>His</I> plan,&mdash;that makes trouble, you see, and
+confusion."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course," said Dolly thoughtfully. "Yet it seems to me it would be
+pleasant to have some particular object that one was striving after.
+The days go by, one after another, one like another, and seem to
+accomplish nothing. I should like to have some purpose, some end in
+life, to be striving for and attaining."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A servant of Christ need never want that," said the housekeeper.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have not anything in special to do," said Dolly, looking at her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Every servant has something special to do," the other answered.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have to take care of mother. But that is not work; it is not work
+for Christ, at least, Mrs. Jersey."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dear, it may be. Everything you do, you may do for Him; for He has
+given it to you to do for Him. That is, unless it is something you are
+choosing for yourself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly pondered.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And if there be nothing ready to hand that you call work, there is
+always preparation for work to be done," Mrs. Jersey went on.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What sort?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The knowledge of the Bible,&mdash;and the knowledge of Christ, to seek and
+win. That surely."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The knowledge of the Bible? Mrs. Jersey, I know the Bible pretty well."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And Christ also?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly mused again, with a very grave face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not quite know what you mean."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then, there is something to be gained yet."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But,&mdash;of course I know what the Bible says about Him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is one sort of knowledge," said the housekeeper; "but it is not
+the knowledge of Him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What then?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Only knowing about Him, dear."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What more can we have?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Just <I>Himself</I>, Miss Copley; and till you have that, dear, you don't
+rightly know what the Bible means."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't think I quite understand you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Suppose I told you all I could about my Lady Brierley; would that make
+you know her as I know her?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, certainly; it would not make me really know her at all."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is what I was thinking."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But for <I>that</I> there must be sight, and intercourse, and the power of
+understanding."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All that," said Mrs. Jersey, smiling; "and the more of that power you
+speak of, the more and the nearer knowledge there will be."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But in the case you are speaking of, the knowledge of Christ, sight is
+not possible."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, not sight with the bodily eyes. It is not; and if it were, it
+mightn't do. Did all the people know the Lord that saw Him with the
+bodily eyes? 'Ye have neither known My Father nor Me,' He said to the
+Jews. 'Have I been so long time with you, and yet hast thou not known
+Me, Philip?'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are setting me a regular puzzle, Mrs. Jersey."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I hope not, my dear. I do not mean it; and it is the last thing I
+wish."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But without sight, how is such knowledge to be gained?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you remember, Miss Copley, it is written,&mdash;'The secret of the Lord
+is with them that fear Him.' And Jesus promised to him that loves Him
+and keeps His commandments, 'I will manifest Myself to him.' Doubtless
+we must seek the fulfilment of the promise too."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The same way as with other things. We must ask, and expect, and use
+the means. And no doubt one must be single-eyed and true-hearted. But
+dear, there is no knowledge like that, once get it; and no friend to be
+had, that can equal the Lord Jesus Christ."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly sat still and pondered, gazing at the two portraits.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is very hard to think that this world is nothing!" she said at
+last. "To most people it seems everything. Just look at those two
+faces! How they struggled and fought; and how little good their life
+was to them, after all."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ay, and folks can struggle and fight for less things than what divided
+them, and lose all just the same. So the Lord said, 'He that loveth his
+life, shall lose it;' but He said too, 'He that loseth his life for My
+sake, shall find it.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are talking riddles again, Mrs. Jersey," said Dolly, laughing. "I
+thought I was beginning to understand you; but I do not understand
+that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, dear; and surely it is a hard saying to many. But I'll give you a
+key. Just you give your life to the Lord Jesus, and He will show you
+what the losing it means, and the gaining it, too."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Thank you. I will," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They went on again after that, through more rooms of the house; but the
+afternoon did not serve for the whole. Dolly must return to her mother.
+Mrs. Jersey sent her home again in the dog-cart. The evening was very
+bright and fair; the hedgerows sweet with flowers; the light glittered
+on the foliage of trees and copsewood and shrubbery; the sky was clear
+and calm. Dolly tasted and rejoiced in it all; and yet in the very
+midst of her pleasure an echo from Mrs. Jersey's words seemed to run
+through everything. It did not depress; on the contrary, it excited
+Dolly. With all the beauty and enjoyment of this very beautiful and
+very enjoyable world, there was something still better to be sought and
+found; somewhat still more beautiful, far more enjoyable; and the
+correlative fact that the search and attainment were, or might be,
+attended with some difficulty and requiring some effort or resolution,
+was simply an additional stimulus. Dolly breathed the air with intense
+taste of it. Yes, she thought, I will seek the knowledge Mrs. Jersey
+spoke of. That must be better than anything else.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap13"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XIII.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+PREACHING AND PRACTICE.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+"How long you have stayed, Dolly!" was Mrs. Copley's greeting. "I don't
+see what is to become of me in this lonely place, if you are always
+trotting about. I shall die!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly took this cold-water bath upon her pleasure with her usual
+sweetness.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dear mother, I did not know I was so long away. I will not go again,
+if it is bad for you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course it is bad for me. It is very bad for me. It is bad for
+anybody. I just think and think, till I am ready to fly.&mdash;What have you
+been doing?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Looking at Brierley House. So beautiful as it is, mother!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+This made a diversion. Mrs. Copley asked and received a detailed
+account of all Dolly had seen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It don't sound as if <I>I</I> should like it," was her comment. "I should
+never have those old chairs and things sticking about."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"O mother! yes, you would; they are most beautiful, and so
+old-fashioned; with the arms of the barons of Coppleby carved on them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I shouldn't want the arms of the barons of Coppleby on the chairs in
+my house, if I was the Earl of Brierley."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But they are everywhere, mother; they are cut and painted over the
+fireplace in the baron's hall."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'd cut 'em out, then, and put up my own. Fire buckets, too! How
+ridiculous. What ornaments for a house!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I like them," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, you like everything. But, Dolly, what does your father think is to
+become of us? He in London, and we here! Such a way of living!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But you wanted country air, mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I didn't; not in this way. Air isn't everything. Did he say, if he
+could not come down Saturday, he would send Mr. St. Leger?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not see why he should," said Dolly gaily. "We don't want him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now, what do you say that for, Dolly?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Just because <I>I</I> don't want him, mother. Do you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He's a very good young man."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly was silent.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And very rich."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly said nothing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And I am sure he is very agreeable."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then, as her utterances still met no response, Mrs. Copley broke out.
+"Dolly, why don't you say something? I have nobody to talk to but you,
+and you don't answer me! I might as well talk to the wall."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mother, I would rather have father come down to see us. If the choice
+lies between them, I would rather have father."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Copley leaned her head on her hand. "Dolly," she began again,
+"your father acts exactly as if he had lost money."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly again did not answer. The repeated words gave her a very startled
+thrill.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"As if he had lost a good deal of money," Mrs. Copley went on. "I can't
+get it out of my head that he has."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's no use to think about it, mother," Dolly said as lightly as she
+could. "Don't you trouble yourself, at any rate."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's foolish. How can I help troubling myself? And if it <I>was</I> any
+use to think about it, to be sure I needn't be troubled. Dolly, it
+torments me day and night!" And tears that were bitter came into Mrs.
+Copley's eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It need not, dear mother. Money is not the only thing in the world;
+nor the best thing."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And that's silly, too," returned her mother. "One's bread and butter
+may not be the best thing in the world,&mdash;I am sure this bread
+ain't,&mdash;but you can't live without it. What can you do without money?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I never tried, you know," said Dolly; "but I should think it would be
+possible to be happy."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Like a child!" said her mother. "Children always think so. What's to
+make you happy, when the means are gone? No, Dolly; money is
+everything, in this world. Without it you are of no consequence, and
+you are at everybody's mercy; and I can tell you one thing besides;&mdash;if
+the women could be happy without money, the men cannot. If you don't
+give a man a good breakfast, he'll be cross all day; and if his dinner
+don't suit him, you'll hear of it for a week, and he'll go off to the
+club besides."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He cannot do <I>that</I> without money," said Dolly, trying to laugh.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then he'll stay at home, and torment you. I tell you, Dolly, life
+ain't worth having, if you haven't got money. That is why I want you to
+like"&mdash;&mdash; Mrs. Copley broke off suddenly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I should think one might have good breakfasts and dinners even if one
+was poor," said Dolly. "They say French women do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What French women do is neither here nor there. I am talking about you
+and me. Look at this bread,&mdash;and see that omelette. I can tell you,
+nothing on earth would keep your father down here if he couldn't have
+something better to eat than, that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly began to ponder the possibility of learning the art of cookery.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What puzzles me," Mrs. Copley went on, "is, how he <I>could</I> have lost
+money? But I am sure he has. I feel it in all my bones. And he is such
+a clever man about business too!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly tried with all her might to bring her mother off this theme. At
+last she succeeded; but the question lingered in her own mind and gave
+it a good deal to do.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+After a day or two more, Mr. St. Leger came as threatened. Dolly
+received him alone. She was in the garden, gathering roses, at the time
+of his arrival. The young man came up to her, looking very glad and shy
+at once, while Dolly was neither the one nor the other. She was
+attending to the business she had in hand.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, how are you?" said her visitor. "How is Mrs. Copley? Getting
+along, eh?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"When's father coming down, Mr. St. Leger?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To-morrow. He'll come down early, he said."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sunday morning?" cried Dolly, and stopped, looking at the young man.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh yes. He'll come down early. He couldn't get off to-night, he told
+me. Some business."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What business? Anything he could not put off? What kept him, Mr. St.
+Leger?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know, 'pon my honour. He'll be down in the morning, though.
+What's the matter? Mrs. Copley isn't worse, I hope?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, I think not," said Dolly, going back to her rose-pulling, with a
+hand that trembled.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"May I help you? What are all these roses for? Why, you've got a lot of
+'em. How do you like Brierley, Miss Dolly? It likes you. I never saw
+you look better. How does your mother fancy it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mother has taken a fancy to travel. She thinks she would like that
+better than being still in one place."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Travel! Where to? Where does she want to go?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She talks of Venice. But I do not know whether father could leave his
+post."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I should say he couldn't, without the post leaving him. But, I say,
+Miss Dolly! maybe Mrs. Copley would let me be her travelling-courier,
+instead. I should like that famously. Venice&mdash;and we might run down and
+see Rome. Hey? What do you think of it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly answered coolly, inwardly resolving she would have no more to say
+about travelling before Mr. St. Leger. However, in the evening he
+brought up the subject himself; and Mrs. Copley and he went into it
+eagerly, and spent a delightful evening over plans for a possible
+journey; talking of routes, and settling upon stopping places. Dolly
+was glad to see her mother pleased and amused, even so; but herself
+took no sort of part in the talk. Next day Mr. Copley in truth arrived,
+and was joyfully received.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+"Well, how do you do?" said he, after the first rejoicings were over,
+looking from his wife to his daughter and back again. It was the third
+or fourth time he had asked the question. "Pretty jolly, eh? Dolly is.
+<I>You</I> are not, my dear, seems to me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are not either, it seems to me, Mr. Copley."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I? I am well enough."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are not 'jolly,' father?" said Dolly, hanging upon him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why not? Yes, I am. A man can't be very jolly that has anything to do
+in this world."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"O father! I should think, to have nothing to do would be what would
+hinder jolliness."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Anything to do but enjoy, I mean. I don't mean <I>nothing</I> to do. But it
+ain't life, to live for business."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then, if I were you, I would play a little, Mr. Copley," said his wife.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So I do. Here I am," said he, with what seemed to Dolly forced gaiety.
+"Now, how are you going to help me play?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"<I>We</I> help <I>you</I>," said his wife. "Why didn't you come yesterday?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Business, my dear; as I said. These are good berries. Do they grow in
+the garden?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How should strawberries grow in a garden where nobody has been
+living?" said his wife. "And what is your idea of play in an
+out-of-the-way place like this, Mr. Copley?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well&mdash;not a catechism," said he, slowly putting strawberries in his
+mouth one after the other. "What's the matter with the place? I thought
+it would just suit you. Isn't the air good?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Breathing isn't quite the only necessary of life," said his wife; "and
+you were asking about play. I think a change would be play to me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, this is a change, or I don't know the meaning of the word.
+You've just come, and have not examined the ground yet. Must have a
+good market, if this fruit is any sign."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is no market or anything else, except what you can find in a
+little village. The strawberries come from Brierley House, where Dolly
+goes to get <I>her</I> play. As for me, who cannot run about, on my feet, or
+anyway, I sit here and wonder when she will be back again. Are we to
+have no carriage here, Mr. Copley?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We had better find out how you like it first, seems to me. Hardly
+worth while, if you're not going to stay."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Copley rose and sauntered out to the porch, and Dolly looked
+furtively at her mother. She saw a troubled, anxious face, lines of
+nervous unrest; she saw that her father's coming had not brought
+refreshment or relief; and truly she did not perceive why it should.
+Dolly was wholly inexperienced, in all but the butterfly life of very
+happy young years; nevertheless, she could not fail to read, or at
+least half read, some signs of another sort of life. She noticed that
+her father's manner wanted its ordinary careless, confident ease; there
+was something forced about it; his face bore tokens of loss of sleep,
+and had a trait of uneasiness most unwonted in Mr. Copley. Dolly sat
+still a little while, and then went out and joined her father in the
+porch. Mr. St. Leger had come in, so that she did not leave her mother
+alone. Dolly came close and laid her arm round her father's neck, her
+fingers playing with his hair; while he fondly threw one arm about her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How is it, Dolly?" he asked. "Don't you like it here?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"<I>I</I> do, very much. But mother finds it very quiet. I think she would
+like to travel, father."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Travel! But I can't go travelling. I cannot get away from London for
+more than a day. Quiet! I thought she wanted quiet. I heard of nothing
+but her want of quiet, till I got her down here; and now she wants
+noise."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not noise, exactly, but change."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, what is this but change? as I said. I do not know what would
+please her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I know what would please me," said Dolly, with her heart beating; for
+she was venturing on unknown ground&mdash;"A little money."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Money!" exclaimed her father. "What in the world do you want with
+money down here?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To pay the servants, father," Dolly said low. "Margaret asked me for
+her month's wages, and I said I would ask you. Can you give it to me?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She cannot do anything with money down here either. She don't want it.
+Her wages are safe, tell her. I'll take care of them for her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But, father, if she likes to take care of them for herself, she has
+the right. Such people like to see their money, I suppose."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have yet to find the people that don't," said her father. "But,
+really, she'll have to wait, my child. I have not brought so much in my
+pocket-book with me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+This also struck Dolly as very unusual. Never in her life, that she
+could remember, had her father confessed before to an empty purse.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then, could you send it to me, father, when you go back to London?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, I'll send it. Or better, wait till I come down again. You would
+not know how to manage if I sent it. And Margaret really cannot be in a
+hurry."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly stood still, fingering the locks of her father's thick hair,
+while her mental thermometer went down and down. She knew by his whole
+manner that the money was not at hand even were he in London; and where
+then was it? Mr. Copley had always till now had plenty; what had
+happened, or what was the cause of the change? And how far had it gone?
+and to what point might it go? and what should she do, if she could not
+soon pay Margaret? and what would become of her mother, if not only her
+travelling projects were shattered, but also her personal and household
+comforts should fail her where she was? What could Dolly do, to save
+money? or could she in any way touch the source of the evil, and bring
+about an essential bettering of this new and evil state of things? She
+must know more first; and how should she get more knowledge?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There came a sigh to her ears here, which greatly touched her.
+Nevertheless, for the present she could not even show sympathy, for she
+dared not seem aware of the need for it. Tears came to her eyes, but
+she commanded them back; that would not do either.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Suppose we take a walk, Dolly, in that jolly old wood yonder?" Mr.
+Copley said. "That's Brierley Park, ain't it? We might go and see the
+house, if you like."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is Sunday, father."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, what then? The world is pretty much the same thing Sunday that
+it is other days, eh?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, father&mdash;the world; but not the day. That is not the same as the
+rest."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why not? We cannot go to church to-day, if that is what you are
+thinking of. I took church-time to come down here. And if you wanted to
+go to church, Dolly, you couldn't have a finer temple than over yonder."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, if you'll go to church there, father, I'll go."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To be sure I will. Get your hat."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And my Bible?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Bible?" Mr. Copley looked at her. "I didn't say anything about a
+Bible. We are going to take a walk. You don't want a book to carry."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How are we going to church there, then?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Think good thoughts, and enjoy the works of the good Creator. That's
+all you can do in any church, Dolly. Come, little Puritan."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly did not quite know what to do; however, she got her hat, finding
+that her mother was willing; and she and her father went down to the
+bridge. There, to her dismay somewhat, they were joined by Mr. St.
+Leger. But not to Mr. Copley's dismay; he welcomed the young man
+openly. Dolly would have gone back now, but she did not dare.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Going to see the house?" Lawrence asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is Sunday," said Dolly. "You cannot."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There's a way of opening doors, even on Sunday," said the other.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, not here. The housekeeper will not let you in. She is a Christian."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She is a Methodist, you mean," said Mr. Copley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I believe she is a Methodist. She is a good friend of mine."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What business have you to make friends with Methodists? we're all good
+Church people; hey, Lawrence? What grand old woods these are!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How old do you suppose these trees to be, father?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Can't guess; less than centuries would not do. Centuries of being let
+alone! I wonder how men would get on, if they could have as good a
+chance? Glorious! Go on, children, and take your walk; I will lie down
+here and rest. I believe I want that more than walking."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He threw himself down at full length on the turf in the shadow of a
+giant beech. Dolly and her remaining companion passed slowly on. This
+was not what she had reckoned upon; but she saw that her father wished
+to be left alone, and she did not feel, nevertheless, that she could go
+home and leave the party. Slowly she and Mr. St. Leger sauntered on,
+from the shadow of one great tree to another; Dolly thinking what she
+should do. When they were gotten out of sight and out of earshot, she
+too stopped, and sat down on a shady bank which the roots of an immense
+oak had thrown up around its base.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What now?" said Lawrence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"This is a good place to stay. Father wishes to be left to himself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But aren't you going any further?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is nothing to be gained by going any further. It is as pretty
+here as anywhere in the wood."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We might go on and see the pheasantry. Have you seen the pheasantry?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That does not depend on the housekeeper's pleasure; and the people on
+the place are not all Methodists. I fancy we should have no trouble in
+getting to see that. Come! It is really very fine, and worth a walk to
+see. I am not much of a place-hunter, but the Brierley pheasantry is
+something by itself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not to-day," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why not to-day? I can get the gate opened."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You forget it is Sunday, Mr. St. Leger."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not forget it," said he, throwing himself down on the bank beside
+her. "I came here to have the day with you. It's a holiday. Mr. Copley
+keeps a fellow awfully busy other days, if one has the good fortune to
+be his secretary. I remember particularly well that it is Sunday. What
+about it? Can't a fellow have it, now he has got it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The blue eyes were looking with a surprised sort of complaint in them,
+yet not wholly discontented, at Dolly. How could they be discontented?
+So fair an object to rest upon and so curiosity-provoking too, as she
+was. Dolly's advantages were not decked out at all; she was dressed in
+a simple white gown; and there were none of the formalities of fine
+ladyism about her; a very plain little girl; and yet, Lawrence was not
+far wrong when he thought her the fairest thing his eyes had ever seen.
+<I>Her</I> eyes had such a mingling of the childlike and the wise; her hair
+curled in such an artless, elegant way about her temples and in her
+neck; the neck itself had such a pretty set and carriage, the figure
+was so graceful in its girlish outlines; and above all, her manner had
+such an inexplicable combination of the utterly free and the utterly
+unapproachable. Lawrence lay thinking all this, or part of it; Dolly
+was thinking how she should dispose of him. She could not well say
+anything that would directly seem to condemn her father. And while she
+was thinking what answer she should make, Lawrence had forgot his
+question.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you like this park?" he began on another tack.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, more than I can tell you! It is perfect. It is magnificent. There
+is nothing like it in all America. At least, <I>I</I> never saw anything
+like it there."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why not?" said Lawrence. "I mean, why is there not anything like this
+there?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then Dolly's face dimpled all up in one of its expressions of extreme
+sense of fun.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We are not old enough," she said. "You know when these trees were
+young, our land was filled with the red men, and overgrown with
+forests."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, those forests were old."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, but in a forest trees do not grow like this. They cannot. And
+then the forest had to be cut down."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you like England better than America?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I never saw in my life anything half so beautiful as Brierley Park."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You would be contented with such a home, wherever it might be?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"As far as the trees went," said Dolly, with another ripple of fun
+breaking over her face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Tell me," said Lawrence, "are all American girls like you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In what way? We do not all look alike."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, no; I do not mean looks; they are no more like you in <I>that</I>, than
+you say America resembles Brierley Park. But you are not like an
+English girl."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am afraid that is not an equal compliment to me. But why should
+Americans be different from English people? We went over from England
+only a little while ago."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Institutions?" Lawrence ventured.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What, because we have a President, and you have a King? What
+difference should that make?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you see no difference? Am I like an American, now?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are not like my father, certainly. But I do not know any American
+young men&mdash;except one. And I don't know him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That sounds very much like a riddle. Won't you be so good as to
+explain?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is no riddle," said Dolly. "I knew him when I was at school, a
+little girl, and I have never seen him since."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you don't know him now, I should say."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No. And yet I feel as if I knew him. I should know him if we saw each
+other again."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Seems to have made a good deal of an impression!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, I think he did. I liked him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Before you see him again you will have forgotten him," said Lawrence
+comfortably. "Do you not think you could forget America, if somebody
+would make you mistress of such a place as this?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And if everybody I loved was here? Perhaps," said Dolly, looking round
+her at the soft swelling green turf over which the trees stretched
+their great branches.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But," said Lawrence, lying on his elbow and watching her, "would you
+want <I>everybody</I> you love? The Bible says that a woman shall leave
+father and mother and cleave to her husband."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No; the Bible says that is what the man shall do; leave father and
+mother and cleave unto his wife."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They work it the other way," said Lawrence. "With us, it is the woman
+who leaves her family to go with the man."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mr. St. Leger," said Dolly suddenly, "father does not look well. What
+do you think is the matter with him?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh&mdash;aw&mdash;yes! Do you think he doesn't look well?" Lawrence answered
+vaguely.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not <I>ill</I>&mdash;but not just like himself either. What is it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I&mdash;well, I have thought that myself sometimes," replied the young man.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What is the matter with him?" Dolly repeated anxiously.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, not much, he spends too much time at&mdash;at his office, you know!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He has no need to do that. He does not want the office&mdash;not for the
+money's sake."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Most men want money," said Lawrence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But do you think he does?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, why not? Why, <I>my</I> father wants money, always wants money; and yet
+you would say he has enough, too. Dolly"&mdash;&mdash; She interrupted him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But what did you mean? You meant to say he spends too much time at&mdash;at
+what? Say what you were going to say."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lawrence rolled himself over on the bank so that he could look up
+straight into her face. It was a good look of his blue eyes. "Dolly,"
+said he, "if you will leave father and mother for my sake,
+figuratively, I mean,&mdash;of course, figuratively,&mdash;I will take care that
+neither of them ever wants anything for the rest of their lives. And
+you shall have a place as good as Brierley Park."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly's spirits must have taken one or two quick leaps, for her colour
+changed so; but happily Lawrence's speech was long enough to let her
+get possession of herself again. She answered with an <I>a plomb</I> which,
+born of necessity as it was, and natural, equalled that of the most
+practised fine lady which should show her artificial habit or skill.
+Like an instinct of self-preservation, I suppose; swift in action,
+correct in adjustment, taking its measures with unpremeditated good
+aim. She answered with absolute seeming calmness&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You evade my question, I observe."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am sure you evade mine!" said the young man, much more hotly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Perhaps I do. Naturally, I want mine answered first."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And then will you give me the answer to my question?" said he eagerly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That would seem to be no more than good manners."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do you want to know, Dolly? I am sure I can't tell what to say to
+you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Tell me what makes my father look unlike himself," said Dolly quietly.
+She spoke quietly; not as if she were greatly concerned to know the
+answer; yet if Lawrence had guessed how her heart beat he would have
+had still more difficulty with his reply. He had some, as it was; so
+much that he tried to turn the matter off.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are imagining things," he said. "Mr. Copley seems to me very much
+what I have always known him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He does not seem to me as <I>I</I> have always known him," said Dolly. "And
+you are not saying what you are thinking, Mr. St. Leger."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are terribly sharp!" said he, to gain time.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's quite common among American women. Go on, Mr. St. Leger, if you
+please."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I declare, it's uncanny. I feel as if you could see through me, too.
+And no one will bear such looking into."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Go on, Mr. St. Leger," Dolly repeated with an air of superiority. Poor
+child, she felt very weak at the time.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know what to say, 'pon my honour," the young man averred. "I
+have nothing to say, really. And I am afraid of troubling you, besides."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly could <I>not</I> speak now. She preserved her calm air of attention;
+that was all.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's really nothing," St. Leger went on; "but I suppose, really, Mr.
+Copley may have lost some money. That's nothing, you know. Every man
+does, now and then. He loses, and then he gains."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How?" said Dolly gravely.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, well, there are various ways. Betting, you know, and cards.
+Everybody bets; and of course he can't always win, or betting would
+stop. That's nothing, Miss Copley."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Have you any idea how much he has lost?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Haven't an idea. People don't tell, naturally, how hard they are hit.
+I am sure it is nothing you need be concerned about."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are not people often ruined in that way?" Dolly asked, still
+preserving her outside calm.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, that does happen, of course, now and then, with careless people.
+Mr. Copley is not one of that sort. Not that kind of man."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do not people grow careless, in the interest and excitement of the
+play?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+St. Leger hesitated, and laughed a little, casting up his blue eyes at
+Dolly as if she were a very peculiar specimen of young womanhood and he
+were not quite sure how to answer her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I assure you," he said, "there is nothing that you need be concerned
+about. I am certain there is not."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not if my father is concerned about it already?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He is not concerned, I am sure. Oh, well! there may be a little
+temporary embarrassment&mdash;that can happen to any man, who is not made of
+gold&mdash;but it will be all right. Now, Miss Copley"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She put out her hand to stop him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mr. St. Leger, can you do nothing to help? You are kind, I know; you
+have always been kind to us; can you do nothing to help now?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The young man rather opened his eyes. Was this asking him for an
+advance? It was a very cool proceeding in that case. "Help?" he
+repeated doubtfully. "What sort?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is only one way that you could help," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He saw she meant what she meant, if he could know what that was; her
+cheeks had even grown pale; the sweet, clear brown eyes sought his face
+as if they would reach his heart, which they did; but then,&mdash;to assume
+any of Mr. Copley's responsibilities&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll assume all Mr. Copley's responsibilities, Dolly," he said with
+rash decision&mdash;"if you'll smile upon me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Assume?&mdash;Oh, did you think I meant <I>that?</I>" cried Dolly, while a
+furious flush came up into her face. "What a notion you must have of
+Americans, Mr. St. Leger! Do you think father would make over his
+responsibilities to another man? I did not mean anything so impossible
+as that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Forgive me Then what did you mean?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Perhaps something as impossible," said Dolly sadly, while the flush
+slowly paled. "I meant&mdash;couldn't you&mdash;could you&mdash;I don't know but it is
+just as impossible!"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Could I, what? I could do most things, if you wished it, Dolly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you must not call me that till I give you leave. I was going to
+say, could you perhaps do anything to get my father away from this
+habit, or pleasure"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of betting?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Betting&mdash;and cards&mdash;it's all the same. He never used to do it. Can you
+help, Mr. St. Leger?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly's face was a sort of a marvel. It was so childlike, it was so
+womanly; it was so innocent, and it was so forceful. Lawrence looked,
+and would have liked to do the impossible; but what could he? It was
+specially at his own father's card-table, he knew, that Mr. Copley had
+lost money; it was wholly in his father's society that he had been
+initiated into the fascination of wagers&mdash;and of something else. Could
+he go against his own father? and how could he? and himself a player,
+though a very cautious one, how should he influence another man not to
+play?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Miss Copley&mdash;I am younger than your father"&mdash;&mdash; Lawrence began.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I know. But you might speak where I cannot. Or you might do something."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mr. Copley only does what my father does, and what everybody does."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you were to tell your father,&mdash;could not <I>he</I> perhaps stop
+it?&mdash;bring my father off the notion?" Dolly had reached the very core
+of the subject now and touched what she wanted to touch; for she had a
+certain assurance in her own mind that her father's intercourse with
+the banker and his circle of friends had led to all this trouble.
+Lawrence pondered, looked serious; and finally promised that he would
+"see what he could do." He would have urged his own question then; but
+to Dolly's great relief Mr. Copley found by this time that he had had
+enough of his own company; and called to them. However she could not
+escape entirely.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have answered your question, Miss Copley," Lawrence said as they
+were going down the slope towards the yet unseen caller. "Hallo! yes,
+we're coming.&mdash;Now am I not to have the promised answer to mine?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How did you put it? the question?" said Dolly, standing still and
+facing her difficulties.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You know. <I>I</I> don't know how I put it," St. Leger said with a half
+laugh. "But I meant, Dolly, that you are more to me than everything and
+everybody in the world; and I wanted to know what I am to you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not <I>that</I>, Mr. St. Leger." Dolly was quiet, and did not shun his
+eyes; and though she did grow rosy, there were some suspicious dimples
+in her fair little face; very unencouraging, but absolutely
+irresistible at the same time.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What then?" said the young man. "Of course, I could not be to you what
+you are to me, Dolly. Naturally. But I can take care of your father and
+mother, and I will; and I will put you in a place as good as Brierley
+Park. I am my father's only son, and his heir, and I can do pretty much
+what I like to do. But I care for nothing if you will not share it with
+me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am not going to leave my father and mother at present," said Dolly,
+shaking her head.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, not at present," said he eagerly, catching at her words. "Not at
+present. But you do not love anybody else, Dolly?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Certainly not!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you will let me hope? You will let me hold myself your best
+friend, after them?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I believe you are that," said Dolly, giving him her hand;&mdash;"except my
+old Methodist acquaintance, Mrs. Jersey." Which addition was a little
+like a dash of cold water; but Lawrence was tolerably contented after
+all; and pondered seriously what he could do in the matter of Mr.
+Copley's gaming tendencies. Dolly was right; but it is awkward to
+preach against what you practise yourself.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap14"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XIV.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+DIFFICULTIES.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Dolly on her part had not much comfort in the review of this afternoon.
+"It was no good," she said to herself; "I am afraid it has encouraged
+Lawrence St. Leger in nonsense. I did not mean that, but I am afraid he
+took it for encouragement. So much for going walking Sunday. I'll never
+do it again."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lawrence had taken leave very cheerfully; that was certain. As much
+could not be said for his principal. Dolly had privately asked her
+father to send her down the money for the servants' wages; and Mr.
+Copley had given an offhand promise; but Dolly saw that same want of
+the usual ready ease in his manner, and was not surprised when days
+passed and the money did not come. The question recurred, what was she
+to do? She wrote to remind her father; and she took a fixed resolve
+that she would buy no more, of anything, that she could not on the spot
+pay for. This, however, was not a resolve immediately taken; it ensued
+when after several weeks the women again pressed for their money, and
+again in vain. Dolly started back then from the precipice she saw she
+might be nearing, and determined to owe no more debts. She wrote to her
+father once more, begging for a supply. And a supply came; but so
+meagre that Dolly could but partially pay her two servants and keep a
+little in hand to go to market with. Mr. Copley had not come down to
+Brierley in the meanwhile. Lawrence had.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Her unaccustomed burden of care Dolly had kept to herself; therefore it
+startled her when one day her mother began upon the subject.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What's this about Margaret's wages, Dolly?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She asked me for some money the other day," Dolly answered as easily
+as she could.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You didn't give it to her?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have given her part; I had not the whole."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Haven't you <I>any?</I>"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, mother, but not enough to give Margaret all she wants."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Let her have what you've got, and write your father to send you some.
+I never like to keep servants waiting. What's theirs, isn't yours; and
+besides, they never serve you so well, and you're in their power."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mother, I want to keep a little in the house, for every day calls,
+till I get some more."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your father will send it immediately. Why he don't come himself, I
+don't see. <I>I</I>'m not gaining, all alone in this wilderness, with
+nothing but the trees of Brierley Park to look at. I can't think what
+your father is dreaming about!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly was silent, and hoped the subject had blown over. Yet it could
+not blow over for ever, she reflected. What was she to do? Then her
+mother startled her again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dolly have you told your father that you want money?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly hesitated; had to say yes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And he did not give it to you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, mother; he sent me some."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"When?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It was&mdash;it must have been three weeks ago."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How much?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not enough to pay all that is due to Margaret."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Copley laid down her face in her hands. A terrible pain went
+through Dolly's heart; but what could she say. It seemed as if pain
+pricked her like a shower of arrows, first on this side and then on
+that. She thought her mother <I>had</I> gained somewhat in the past weeks;
+how would it, or could it, be now? Presently Mrs. Copley lifted up her
+head with a further question.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is Sarah paid?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, mother; not yet," said poor Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Has Peter been paid anything?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not by us. We do not pay Peter at all," replied Dolly, feeling as if
+the words were stabbing her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who does?" said her mother quickly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mr. St. Leger sent him here. He is their servant really, and they take
+care of him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't see how your father can content himself with that," said Mrs.
+Copley. "But I suppose that is one of the debts that <I>you</I> will pay,
+Dolly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly forced herself to speak very quietly, though every nerve and
+fibre was trembling and quivering. She said, "How, mother?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose you know. Mr. St. Leger knows, at any rate; and your father
+too, it seems."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mother," said Dolly, sitting up a little straighter, "do you think I
+will pay debts in <I>that</I> way?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What other way will you pay them, then, child? what do you and your
+father expect? What <I>can</I> you do, if you have not the money?" Mrs.
+Copley spoke bitterly. Dolly waited a little, perhaps to bite down or
+swallow down some feeling.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mother," she said, somewhat lower, "do you think father would want me
+to pay his debts so?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Want to?" echoed Mrs. Copley. "I tell you, Dolly, when people get into
+difficulties the question is not what they <I>want</I> to do. They have to
+pocket their likings, and eat humble pie. But how has your father got
+into difficulties?" she burst out with an expression of frightened
+distress. "He always had plenty. Dolly!&mdash;tell me!&mdash;what do you know
+about it? what is it? How <I>could</I> he get into difficulties! Oh, if we
+had staid at home! Dolly, how is it possible? We have always had
+plenty&mdash;money running like water&mdash;all my life; and now, how <I>could</I>
+your father have got into difficulties?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Perhaps the difficulty was but transient and would soon pass over,
+Dolly faintly suggested.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It don't look like it," said Mrs. Copley miserably, "and your father
+don't look like it. Here we are down in this desert, you and I, to keep
+us out of the way, and where we will cost as near nothing as can be;
+and we can't pay that! Do you know nothing about it, Dolly? how it has
+come about?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I couldn't ask father such a question, mother, you know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And what is to become of me!" Mrs. Copley went on; "when travelling is
+the thing I need. And what is to become of you, Dolly? Nobody to be
+seen, or to see you, but St. Leger. Have you made up your mind to be
+content with him? Will you have him, Dolly? and is that the way your
+father is going to take care of you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Poor Mrs. Copley, having so long swallowed her troubles in secret,
+dreading to give pain to Dolly, now that her mouth was once opened
+poured them forth relentlessly. Why not? the subject was broached at
+last, and having spoken, she might go on to speak. And poor Dolly, full
+of her own anxieties, did not know where to begin to quiet those of her
+mother.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mr. St. Leger is nothing to me," she said, however, in answer to Mrs.
+Copley's last suggestions.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He thinks he is."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then he is very foolish," said Dolly, reddening.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is you that are foolish, and you just do not know any better. I
+don't think, Dolly, that it would be at all a bad thing for
+you;&mdash;perhaps it would be the very best; though I'd rather have you
+marry one of our own people; but St. Leger is rich, very rich, I
+suppose; and your father has got mixed up with them somehow, and I
+suppose that would settle everything. St. Leger is handsome, too; he
+has a nice face; he has beautiful eyes; and he is a gentleman."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"His face wants strength."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's no matter. I begin to believe, Dolly, that you have wit enough
+for two."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am not speaking of wit; I mean <I>strength;</I> and I should never like
+any man that hadn't it; not like him in the way you mean, mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Strength? what sort of strength?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I mean manliness; power to do right; power over himself and others;
+power over the wrong, to put it down, and over the right, to lift it up
+and give it play. I don't know that I can tell you what I mean, mother;
+but that is my notion of a man."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are romantic, I am afraid, Dolly. You have been reading novels too
+much."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What novels, mother? I have not read any, except Scott's and Miss
+Austen's and 'The Scottish Chiefs.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, you have got romantic ideas, I am afraid. Your talk sounds
+romantic. You won't find that sort of man."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't care," said Dolly. "But if I don't, I'll never marry any other
+sort."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And that is a delusion too," said Mrs. Copley. "You will do just as
+other girls do. Nobody marries her fancy. And besides, St. Leger thinks
+he has got you; and I don't know but he and your father will manage it
+so. He don't ask <I>my</I> advice."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Now this was not quite true; for the subject of Mr. St. Leger had been
+discussed more than once between Dolly's parents; though certainly Mrs.
+Copley did see that matters were out of her hand and beyond her
+guidance now. Dolly was glad to have the conversation turn to something
+else; but the several subjects of it hardly left her head any more.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It is blessedly true, that at seventeen there is a powerful spring of
+elasticity in the mind, and an inexhaustible treasury of hope; also it
+is true that Mrs. Copley was not wrong in her estimate of Dolly when
+she adjudged her to have plenty of "wit;" otherwise speaking, resources
+and acuteness. That was all true; nevertheless, Dolly's
+seventeen-year-old heart and head were greatly burdened with what they
+had to carry just now. Experience gave her no help, and the
+circumstances forbade her to depend upon the experience of her mother.
+Mrs. Copley's nerves must not be excited. So Dolly carried her burden
+alone, and found it very heavy; and debated her questions with herself,
+and could find an answer to never a one of them. How should she give
+her mother the rest and distraction of travelling? The doctor said, and
+Dolly believed, that it would be the best thing for her. But she could
+not even get speech of her father to consult over the matter with him
+Mr. Copley was caught in embarrassments of his own, worse than nervous
+ones. What could Dolly do, to break him off from his present habits,
+those she knew and those she dimly feared? Then when, as was
+inevitable, the image of Mr. St. Leger presented itself, as affording
+the readiest solution of all these problems, Dolly bounded back. Not
+<I>that</I>, of all possible outcomes of the present state of things. Dolly
+would neither be bought nor sold; would not in that way even be her
+parents' deliverer. She was sure she could not do that. What else could
+she do?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She carried these questions about with her, out into the garden, and up
+into her room; and many a hot tear she shed over them, when she could
+be long enough away from her mother to let the tears dry and the signs
+of them disappear before she met Mrs. Copley's eyes again. To her eyes
+Dolly was unfailingly bright and merry; a most sweet companion and most
+entertaining society; lively, talkative, and busy with endless plans
+for her mother's amusement. Meanwhile she wrote to her father, begging
+him to come down to Brierley; she said she wanted to talk to him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Three days after that letter came Lawrence St. Leger. Mr. Copley could
+not spare the time, he reported.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Spare the time from what?" Dolly asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, business, of course. It is always business."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What sort? Not consul business."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All sorts," said Lawrence. "He couldn't come. So he sent me. What is
+the thing, Miss Dolly? He said something was up."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wanted to talk to my father," Dolly said coldly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Won't I do?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not at all. I had business to discuss."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The journey, eh?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That was one thing," Dolly was obliged to allow.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, look here. About that, I've a plan. I think I can arrange it
+with Mr. Copley, if you and your mother would be willing to set off
+with me, and let Mr. Copley join us somewhere&mdash;say at Baden Baden, or
+Venice, or where you like. He could come as soon as he was ready, you
+know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But you know," said Dolly quietly, "I specially want <I>him</I>, himself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But then your mother wants the journey. She really does. The doctor
+says so, you know, and I think he's right. And Mr. Copley won't leave
+London just now. He could send his secretary, you know. That's all
+right."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I must see father before I can do anything," said Dolly evasively. "I
+will write a letter for you to carry back to him. And I will go do it
+at once."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And I will take a look at what Peter is doing," said the young man.
+"Such fellows always want looking after."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly had looked after Peter herself. She paused before an upper window
+in her way to her room, to cast a glance down into the garden. Old
+Peter was there, at some work she had set him; and before him stood
+Lawrence, watching him, and she supposed making remarks; but at any
+rate, his air was the air of a master and of one very much at home.
+Dolly saw it, read it, stood still to read it, and turned from the
+window with her heart too full of vexation and perturbation to write
+her letter then. She felt a longing for somebody to talk to, even
+though she could by no means lay open all her case for counsel; the air
+of the house was too close for her; her breath could not be drawn free
+in that neighbourhood. She must see somebody; and no one had poor Dolly
+to go to but the housekeeper, Mrs. Jersey. Nobody, near or far. So she
+slipped out of the house and took a roundabout way to the great
+mansion. She dared not take a straight way and cross the bridge, lest
+she should be seen and followed; so she made a circuit, and got into
+the park woods only after some time of warm walking through lanes and
+over fields. Till then she had hurried; now, safe from interruption,
+she went slowly, and pondered what she was going to do or say. Pondered
+everything, and could not with all her thinking make the confusion less
+confusion. It was a warm, still, sultry day; the turf was dry, the air
+was spicy under the great trees; shadow and sunshine alternately
+crossed her path, or more correctly, her path crossed them. A certain
+sense of contrast smote her as she went. Around her were the tokens of
+a broad security, sheltering protection, quiet and immovable
+possession, careless wealth; and within her a tumult of fear,
+uncertainty, exposure, and craving need. Life seemed a very unequal
+thing to the little American girl. Her step became slower. What was she
+going to say to Mrs. Jersey? It was impossible to determine;
+nevertheless, Dolly felt that she must see her and speak to her. That
+was a necessity.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Through the trees she caught at last sight of the grand old house. The
+dog knew her by this time and she did not fear him. She found the
+housekeeper busy with some sewing and glad to welcome her. Mrs. Jersey
+was that always. To-day she looked a little closer than usual at her
+visitor, discerning that Dolly's mind was not just in its wonted poise.
+And besides, she loved to look at her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Yet it is not easy to describe that for which our eyes seek and dwell
+upon a face or form. It is easy to say brown eyes and lightly curled,
+waving, beautiful hair; but hair is beautiful in different ways, and so
+faces. Can we put Dolly's charm into words? Mrs. Jersey saw a delicate,
+graceful, active figure, to begin with; delicate without any suspicion
+of weakness; active, in little quick, gracious movements, which it was
+fascinating to watch; and when not in motion, lovely in its childlike
+unconsciousness of repose. Her hair was exceedingly beautiful, not on
+account of its mass or colour so much as for the great elegance of its
+growth and curly arrangement or disarrangement around the face and
+neck; and the face was a blending of womanly and childlike. It could
+seem by turns most of the one or most of the other; but the clear eyes
+had at all times a certain deep <I>inwardness</I>, along with their bright,
+intelligent answer to the moment's impression, and also a certain
+innocent outlook, which was very captivating. And then, at a moment's
+notice, Dolly's face from being grave and thoughtful, would dimple all
+up with some flash of fun, and make you watch its change back to
+gravity again, with an intensified sense both of its merry and of its
+serious charm. She smiled at Mrs. Jersey now as she came in, but the
+housekeeper saw that the eyes had more care in their thoughtfulness
+than she was accustomed to see in them.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And how is the mother, dear?" she asked, when Dolly had drawn up a
+chair and sat down; for they were grown familiar friends by this time.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She is not getting on much, Mrs. Jersey. I wanted to talk to you about
+her. The doctor says travelling would be the best thing."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And you will go and travel? Where will you go?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know yet whether we can go anywhere. Mother wants to go."
+Dolly looked out hard into the tree groups on the lawn. They barred the
+vision.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is one sign then that the doctor is right," said Mrs. Jersey. "It
+is good for sick folks to have what they like."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Isn't it good for people that are not sick?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sometimes," said Mrs. Jersey, smiling. "But sometimes not; or else the
+good Lord would let them have it, when He does not let them. What are
+<I>you</I> wanting, Miss Dolly?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I want everything different from what it is just now!" said Dolly, the
+tears starting to her eyes. The housekeeper was moved with a great
+sympathy; sympathy that was silent at first.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Can I help?" she asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Maybe you can help with your counsel," said Dolly, brushing her hand
+over her eyes; "that is what I came here for to-day. I wanted to speak
+to somebody; and I have nobody but you, Mrs. Jersey."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your mother, my dear?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I can't worry mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"True. You are right. Well, my dear? What do you want counsel about?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is very difficult to tell you. I don't know if I can. I will try.
+One thing. Mrs. Jersey, is it right sometimes, is it a girl's duty
+ever&mdash;to sacrifice herself for her parents?".
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The housekeeper had not expected this form of dilemma, and hesitated a
+few minutes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sacrifice herself how, Miss Dolly?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Marrying, for instance."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Marrying somebody she does not care for?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How 'for her parents'?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Suppose&mdash;I am just supposing,&mdash;suppose he has money, and they haven't.
+Suppose, for instance, they are in difficulties, and by her sacrificing
+herself she can put them out of difficulty? Such a case might be, you
+know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Often has been; or at least people have thought so. But, Miss Dolly,
+where is a young lady's first duty?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To God, of course; her first duty."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And next after God?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To her parents, I suppose."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And besides her parents?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know; nobody, I think."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Let us see. She owes something to herself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Does she?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And do you not think she owes something to the other party concerned?
+don't you think she owes something to the gentleman she is to marry?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, of course," said Dolly slowly. "I do not know exactly what,
+though; nor exactly what she owes to herself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Before taking any course of action, in a matter that is very
+important, shouldn't she look all round the subject? and see what will
+become of all these duties?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Certainly. But the first comes first."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The first comes first. How does the first look to you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The first is her duty to God."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well. What does her duty to God say?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know," said Dolly very gravely. "I am all in a puzzle.
+Something in me says one thing, and something else in me cries out
+against it. Mrs. Jersey, the Bible says, 'Honour thy father and thy
+mother.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, and it says, 'Children, obey your parents.' But the next words
+that come after, are&mdash;'<I>in the Lord</I>.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How is that?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So as you can without failing in your duty to Him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Can duties clash?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said the housekeeper, smiling; "for, as you said, 'the first
+comes first.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not understand," said Dolly. "It is my duty to obey His word; and
+His word says, obey them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Only not when their command or wish goes against His."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, how would this?" said Dolly. "Suppose they wish me to marry
+somebody, and my doing so would be very good for them? The Bible says,
+'Love seeks not her own.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Most true," said the housekeeper, watching the tears that suddenly
+stood in Dolly's bright eyes. "But it says some other things."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What, Mrs. Jersey? Do make it clear to me if you can. I am all in a
+muddle."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dear, I am not a very good hand to explain what I mean. But do you
+not think you owe it both to yourself and to God, not to do what would
+blast your life? you cannot serve Him so well with a blasted life."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It seems to me," said Dolly, speaking slowly, "I have a right to give
+up my own happiness. I do not see the wrong of it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In anything else," said the housekeeper. "In anything else, my dear;
+only not in marriage! My dear, it is not simply giving up one's
+happiness; it is a long torture! No, you owe it to yourself; for in
+that way you could never grow to be what you might be. My dear, I have
+seen it tried. I have known a woman who married so, thinking that it
+would not matter so much; she fulfilled life's duties nobly, she was a
+good wife and mother and friend; but when I asked her once, after she
+had told me her story, how life had been to her?&mdash;I shall never forget
+how she turned to me and said, 'It has been a hell upon earth!' Miss
+Dolly, no good father and mother would buy <I>anything</I> at such a price;
+and no man that really loved a woman would have her at such a price;
+and so, if you follow the rule, 'Whatsoever ye would that men should do
+to you, do ye even so to them'&mdash;you will never marry in that way."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was a little silence, and then Dolly said in an entirely changed
+tone, "You have cleared up the mist, Mrs. Jersey."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then there is another thing," the housekeeper went on. She heard the
+change in Dolly's voice, out of which the anxiety had suddenly
+vanished, but she was willing to make assurance doubly sure. "Did you
+ever think what a woman owes to the man she marries?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I never thought about it," said Dolly. "What a man asks for, is that
+she will marry him." How Dolly's cheeks flamed up. But she was very
+serious, and the housekeeper if possible yet more so.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Miss Dolly, she owes him the best love of her heart, after that she
+gives to God."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't see how she can," said Dolly. "I do not see how she <I>can</I> love
+him so well as her father and mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He expects it, though, and has a right to it. And unless a woman can
+give it, she cannot be a true wife. She makes a false vow at the altar.
+And unless she do love him so, it may easily happen that she will find
+somebody afterwards that she will like better than her husband. And
+then, all is lost."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"After she is married?" said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Perhaps after she has been married for years. If she has not married
+the right man, she may find him when she cannot marry him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But that is dreadful!" cried Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The world is a pretty mixed-up place," said the housekeeper. "I want
+<I>your</I> way to be straight and clear, Miss Dolly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was a pause again, at the end of which Dolly repeated, "Thank
+you, Mrs. Jersey. You have cleared up the mist for me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I hear it in your voice," said her friend, smiling. "It has got its
+clear, sweet ring again. Is <I>all</I> the trouble disposed of?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh no!" said Dolly, a shadow crossing her face anew; "but I am
+relieved of one great perplexity. That was not all my trouble;&mdash;I
+cannot tell you all. I wish I could! One thing,&mdash;I want to see my
+father dreadfully, to talk to him about mother's going travelling; and
+I cannot get sight of him. He stays in London. And time is flying."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Write," said the housekeeper.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, I have written. And I have sent messages. I would go up to London
+myself, but I cannot go alone."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Miss Dolly," said the housekeeper, after a minute's thought, "perhaps
+I can help here too. I have to go up to London for a few days, and was
+thinking to go next week. If you will trust yourself to me, I will take
+you, and take care of you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly was overjoyed at this suggestion. A little more conversation to
+settle preliminaries and particulars, and Dolly set off on her way home
+with a much lightened heart.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah me!" thought the housekeeper, as she stood at the door looking
+after her, "how hard we do make it for each other in this world!"
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap15"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XV.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+THE CONSUL'S OFFICE.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Before Dolly had reached home she was joined by Mr. St. Leger. He was
+still in the park.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Have you been for a walk?" said he in astonished fashion.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose that would be a natural conclusion," said Dolly. She spoke
+easily; it rejoiced her to find how easily she could now meet Mr. St.
+Leger. Yet the game was not all played out, either.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why didn't you let me know, that I might go with you?" he went on.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That was not in my purpose," rejoined Dolly lightly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is very unkind, Dolly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Truth is never unkind."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, indeed, it may be; it is now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Would you like falsehood better?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You need not be false."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I must be either false or true, must I not? Which would you rather
+have, Mr. St. Leger?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It would be no good, my choosing," said he, with a half laugh; "for
+you would never give me anything but absolute truth, I know. I believe
+that is one of your attractions, Dolly. All other girls put on
+something, and a fellow never can tell what he is served to, the dish
+is spiced so cleverly. But you are like a piece of game, with no
+flavour but your own; and that is wild enough, and rare enough too."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mr. St. Leger," said Dolly gravely, "you ought to study rhetoric.''
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Have. Why?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am afraid that last speech was rather mixed up."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Look here,&mdash;I wish you'd call me Lawrence. We know each other quite
+well enough."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is that the custom in your country?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is going to be your country, as well. You need not speak in that
+fashion."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am thinking of leaving the country," Dolly went on unconcernedly.
+"Mother is longing to travel; and I am going to bring it about."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have tried Mr. Copley on that subject, I assure you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I shall try now, and do it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Think so? Then we will consult about plans and routes again this
+evening. Mrs. Copley likes that almost as well as the thing itself.
+For, Dolly, you cannot get along without me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Which assertion Dolly left uncontroverted.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A few days after Lawrence had gone back to town was the time for Mrs.
+Jersey's journey. Dolly told her mother her plan; and after a deal of
+doubts and fears and arguings on Mrs. Copley's part, it was finally
+agreed to. It seemed the hopefullest thing to do; and Mrs. Copley could
+be left well enough with the servants for a few days. So, early one
+morning Mrs. Jersey called for her, and Dolly with a beating heart
+kissed her mother and went off.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Some business reasons occasioned the housekeeper to make the journey in
+a little covered carriage belonging to the house, instead of taking the
+public post-coach. It was all the pleasanter for Dolly, being entirely
+private and quiet; though the time consumed was longer. They were then
+in the end of summer; the weather was delicious and warm; the country
+rich in flowers and grain fields and ripening fruit. Dolly at first was
+full of delight, the change and the novelty were so welcome, and the
+country through which they drove was so exceeding lovely. Nevertheless,
+as the day went by there began to creep over her a strange feeling of
+loneliness; a feeling of being out on the journey of life all by
+herself and left to her own skill and resources. It was not the journey
+to London; for <I>that</I> she was well accompanied and provided; it was the
+real undertaking upon which she had set out, the goal of which was not
+London but&mdash;her father. To find her father not only, but to keep him;
+to prevent his being lost to himself, lost to her mother, to life, and
+to her. Could she? Or was she embarked on an enterprise beyond her
+strength? A weak girl; what was she, to do so much! It grew and pressed
+upon her, this feeling of being alone and busy with a work too great
+for her; till gradually the lovely country through which she was
+passing ceased to be lovely; it might have been a wilderness, for all
+its cheer or promise to her. Dolly had talked at first, in simple,
+gleeful, girlish pleasure; little by little her words grew fewer, her
+eye lost its glad life; until she sat back, withdrawn into herself, and
+spoke no more unless spoken to.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The housekeeper noticed the change, saw and read the abstracted,
+thoughtful look that had taken place of the gay, interested delight of
+the morning. She perceived that Dolly had serious work on hand, of some
+sort; and she longed to help her. For the fair, sweet, womanly
+thoughtfulness was as lofty and lovely in its way, as the childlike
+simplicity of enjoyment before had been bewitching. She was glad when
+the day's ride came to an end.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The stoppage was made at a little wayside inn; a low building of grey
+stone, overgrown with ivy and climbing roses, with a neatly kept bit of
+grass in front. Here Dolly's interest and delight awoke again. This was
+something unlike all she had ever seen. Simple and plain enough the inn
+was; stone flooring and wooden furniture of heavy and ancient pattern
+made it that; but at the same time it was substantial, comfortable,
+neat as wax, and with a certain air of well-to-do thrift which was very
+pleasant. Mrs. Jersey was known here and warmly received. The
+travellers were shown into a cosy little room, brown wainscoted, and
+with a great jar of flowers in the chimney; and here the cloth was
+immediately laid for their dinner, or supper. For the supper itself
+they had to wait a little; and after putting off her bonnet and
+refreshing herself in an inner room, Dolly sat down by one of the small
+windows. The day was declining. Slant sunbeams shot across a wide plain
+and threw long shadows from the trees. The trees, especially those
+overhanging the inn, were old and large and fine; the lights and
+shadows were moveless, calm, peaceful; one or two neighbouring fields
+were stocked with beautiful cattle; and a flock of geese went waddling
+along over the green. It was removed from all the scenes of Dolly's
+experience; as unlike them as her being there alone was unlike the rest
+of her life; in the strangeness there was this time an element of
+relief.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How beautiful the world is, Mrs. Jersey!" she remarked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You find it so here?" answered her friend.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, yes, I do. Don't you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose I am spoiled, Miss Dolly, by being accustomed to Brierley."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, this is not Brierley! but I am not comparing them. This is very
+pretty, Mrs. Jersey! Why, Mrs. Jersey, you don't despise a daisy
+because it isn't a rose!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said her friend; "but I suppose I cannot see the daisy when the
+rose is by." She was looking at Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well," said Dolly, "the rose is not by; and I like this very much.
+What a neat house! and what a pleasant sort of comfort there is about
+everything. I would not have missed this, Mrs. Jersey, for a good deal."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am glad, Miss Dolly. I was thinking you were not taking much good of
+your day's ride&mdash;the latter part."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly was silent, looking out now somewhat soberly upon the smiling
+scene; then she jumped up and threw off her gravity, and came to the
+supper-table. It was spread with exquisite neatness, and appetising
+nicety. Dolly found herself hungry. If but her errand to London had
+been of a less serious and critical character, she could have greatly
+enjoyed the adventure and its picturesque circumstances. With the
+elastic strength of seventeen, however, she did enjoy it, even so.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How good you are to me, Mrs. Jersey!" she said, after the table was
+cleared and the two were sitting in the falling twilight. The still
+peace outside and inside the house had found its way to Dolly's heart.
+There was the brooding hush of the summer evening, marked, not broken,
+by sounds of insects or lowing of cattle, and the voices of farm
+servants attending to their work. It was yet bright outside, though the
+sun had long gone down; inside the house shades were gathering.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wish I could be good to you, Miss Dolly," was the housekeeper's
+answer.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, you are! I do not know what in the world I should have done, if
+you had not let me go with you to London now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What can I do for you when we get there?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, nothing! thank you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You know exactly where to go and what to do?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I shall take a cab and go&mdash;let me see,&mdash;yes, to father's rooms. If I
+do not find him there, I must go to his office."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In the City?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes. Will that be very far from your house? Why, yes, of course; we
+shall be at the West End. Well, all the same, near or far, I must see
+my father."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You must be so good as to let me go in the cab with you," said Mrs.
+Jersey. "I cannot let you drive all about London alone by yourself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, thank you!" said Dolly again, with an undoubted accent of relief.
+"But"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+That sentence remained unfinished. Dolly meditated. So did the
+housekeeper. She was wise enough to see that all was not exactly clear
+and fair in her young friend's path; of what nature the trouble might
+be she could only surmise.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What if Mr. Copley should not be in London?" she ventured.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, he must be. At least he was there a very few days ago. He never is
+away from London, except when he goes to visit somewhere."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is coming towards the time now when the gentlemen go down into the
+country to shoot."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Father does not care for shooting. I mean to get him to go to Venice
+instead, with mother and me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Suppose you should fail in that plan, Miss Dolly? is your business
+done then?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No. Oh no!" said Dolly, for a moment covering her face with her hands.
+"O Mrs. Jersey! if I could not manage that, I do not know what I should
+do!" Dolly's voice had a premonition of despair. "But I guess I can do
+it," she added with a resumption of cheerfulness. And she talked on
+from that time merrily of other things.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When they arrived in London next day, it was already too late for Dolly
+to do anything. She was fain to let Mrs. Jersey lodge her and feast her
+and pet her to her heart's content. She was put in a pretty room in the
+great house; she was entertained royally, as far as the viands went;
+and in every imaginable way the housekeeper was carefully kind. Well
+for Dolly; who needed all the help of kindness and care. The whole long
+day she had been brooding on what she had to do, and trying to imagine
+how things would be. Without data, that is a specially wearisome
+occupation; inasmuch as one may imagine anything, and there is nothing
+to contradict the most extravagant speculations. Dolly's head and heart
+were tired by the time night came, and her nerves in an excited
+condition, to which Mrs. Jersey's ministrations and the interest of the
+place gave a welcome relief. Dolly tried to put off thought. But
+everything pressed upon her, now that she was so near seeing her
+father; and seventeen-years-old felt as if it had a great load on its
+young shoulders.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mrs. Jersey," she began, after supper, "you are quite sure that it is
+never right for a girl to sacrifice herself for the sake of benefiting
+her parents?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In the way of marrying a man she does not love? Miss Dolly, a
+Christian man would never have a young lady marry him on those terms."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Suppose he is not a Christian man?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then he may be selfish enough to do it. But in that case, Miss Dolly,
+a Christian woman can have nothing to say to him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why not? She might bring <I>him</I> to be Christian, you know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That isn't the Lord's way, Miss Dolly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What is His way, then?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You will find it in the sixth chapter of 2nd Corinthians. 'Be not
+unequally yoked together with unbelievers.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But that means"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It <I>says</I>&mdash;Miss Dolly; it <I>says</I>,&mdash;do not be yoked up with one who is
+not following the Lord; neither in marriage, nor in business. Two oxen
+in a yoke, Miss Dolly, have to pull the same way; and if they don't
+want to, the weakest must go with the strongest."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But might not the Christian one be the strongest?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"His disobeyeing the Lord's command just shows he isn't that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly let the subject drop. She took a little cushion and sat down by
+her friend's side and laid her head in her lap; and they sat so a
+while, Mrs. Jersey looking fondly down upon the very lovely bright head
+on her knees, and marvelling sorrowfully at the fathers and mothers who
+prepare trouble for such tender and delicate creatures as their young
+daughters.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The next morning she admired her charge under a new view of her. Dolly
+appeared at breakfast with a calm, measured manner, which, if it were
+in part the effect of great pressure upon her spirits, had at the same
+time the grace of a very finished breeding. Mrs. Jersey looked and
+admired, and wondered too. How had the little American got this air?
+She could not put it on herself; but she had seen her mistresses in the
+great world wear it; a certain unconscious, disengaged dignity which
+sat marvellously well upon the gracious softness and young beauty of
+this little girl.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The breakfast was rather silent. The drive, which they entered upon
+immediately after, was almost wholly so. Mrs. Jersey, true to her
+promise, let her own affairs wait, and accompanied her young friend.
+Dolly had changed her plan, and went now first to Mr. Copley's office
+in the city. It was the hour when he should be there, and to go to his
+lodging would have taken them out of the way. So they drove the long
+miles from Grosvenor Square to the American Consul's office. Dolly's
+mood was eager and hopeful now; yet with too much pressure to allow of
+her talking.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The cab stopped opposite the entrance of a narrow covered way between
+two walls of houses. Following this narrow passage, Mrs. Jersey and
+Dolly emerged into a little court, very small, on one side of which two
+or three steps led to the American Consul's offices. The first one they
+entered was full of people, waiting to see the Consul or parleyeing
+with one or another of the clerks. Dolly left Mrs. Jersey there to wait
+for her, and herself went on into the inner room, her father's special
+private office. In those days the office of American Consul was of far
+more importance and dignity than to-day; and this room was a tolerably
+comfortable one and respectably furnished.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Here, however, her father was not; and it immediately struck Dolly that
+he had not been there very lately. How she gathered this impression is
+less easy to tell, for she could hardly be said to see distinctly any
+one of the characters in which the fact was written. She did not know
+that dust lay thick on his writing-table, and that even the papers
+piled there were brown with it; she did not know that the windows were
+fastened down this warm day, nor that an arm-chair which usually stood
+there for the accommodation of visitors was gone, having been slipped
+into the outer office by an ease-loving clerk. It was a general air of
+forsakenness, visible in these and in yet slighter signs, which struck
+Dolly's sense. She stood a moment, bewildered, hoping against sense, as
+it were; then turned about. As she turned she was met by a young man
+who had followed her in from the outer office. Dolly faced him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where is Mr. Copley?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He ain't here." The Yankee accents of home were unmistakeable.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I see he is not here; but where is he?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Couldn't say, reelly. 'Spect he's to his place. We don't ginerally
+expect ladies at this time o' day, or I guess he'd ha' ben on hand."
+The clerk grinned at Dolly's beauty, the like of which to be sure was
+not often seen anywhere at that, or any other, time of day.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"When was Mr. Copley here, sir?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Couldn't say. 'Tain't very long, nother. Was you wantin' to see him on
+an a'pintment?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No. I am Miss Copley. Where can I find my father? Please tell me as
+quick as you can."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sartain&mdash;ef I knowed it. Now I wisht I did! Mr. Copley, he comes and
+he goes, and he don't tell me which way; and there it is, you see."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where is Mr. St. Leger?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mr. Silliger? Don't know the gentleman. Likely Mr. Copley doos. But he
+ain't here to say. Mebbe it 'ud be a good plan to make a note of it.
+That's what Mr. Copley allays says; 'make a note of it.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You do not know, sir, perhaps, whether Mr. Copley is in London?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He was in London&mdash;'taint very long ago, for he was in this here
+office, and I see him; but that warn't yesterday, and it warn't the day
+before. Where he's betaken himself between whiles, ain't known to me.
+Shall I make a note, miss, against he comes?"
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+"No," said Dolly, turning away; "no need. And no use."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She rejoined Mrs. Jersey and they went back to the carriage.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He is not there," she said excitedly; "and he has not been there for
+several days. We must go to his lodgings&mdash;all the way back almost!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Never mind," said the housekeeper. "We have the day before us."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is almost twelve," said Dolly, looking at her watch. "Before we get
+there it will be one. I am a great deal of trouble to you, I fear, Mrs.
+Jersey; more than I meant to be."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dear, it's no trouble. I am happy to be of any use to you. What
+sort of a chain is that you wear, Miss Dolly?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Curious, isn't it?" said Dolly. "It was given me long ago. It is woven
+of threads of a ship cable."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is a beautiful chain," said her friend, examining it admiringly.
+"But that is very clever, Miss Dolly! I should never fancy it was a
+piece of cable. Is there an anchor anywhere?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said Dolly, laughing. "Though I am not sure," she added
+thoughtfully. "My memory goes back along this chain a great way;&mdash;back
+to the time when I was a little girl, quite little, and very happy at
+school and with a dear aunt, whom I lived with then. And back there at
+the end of the chain are all those pleasant images; and one most
+beautiful day, when we went to visit a ship; a great man-of-war. A most
+beautiful day!" Dolly repeated with the accent of loving recollection.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And you brought back a piece of cable from the ship, and braided this?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No. Oh no! I did not do it; I could not. It was done for me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"By a friend's fingers?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, I suppose you may say so," said Dolly; "though it is a friend I
+have never seen since then. I suppose I never shall. But I always wear
+the chain. Oh, how long that seems ago!&mdash;Is childhood the happiest time
+of a person's life, Mrs. Jersey?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Maybe I might say yes. Miss Dolly; but if I did, I should mean not
+what you mean. I should mean the little-child life that one can have
+when one is old. When the heart says, 'Not my will, but Thine'&mdash;when it
+says, 'Speak, Lord, for Thy servant heareth.' You know, the Master
+said, 'Except ye become as little children, ye shall not enter into the
+kingdom of heaven.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't believe I am just as much of a child, then, as I used to be,"
+remarked Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Get back to it, my dear, as fast as you can."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But when one <I>isn't</I> a child, things are so different. It is easy to
+trust and give up for a child's things; but when one is a woman"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is just the same, dear Miss Dolly! Our great affairs, they are but
+child's matters to the Lord's eyes. The difference is in
+ourselves&mdash;when our hearts get proud, and our self-will gets up."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wish I could be like a child now," said Dolly from the depths of her
+heart. "I feel as if I were carrying the whole family on my shoulders,
+and as if <I>I</I> must do it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You cannot, my dear! Your shoulders will break. 'Casting your care
+upon Him,' the Bible says&mdash;'for He careth for you.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"One does not see Him"&mdash;&mdash; said Dolly, with her eyes very full.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Faith can see," the housekeeper returned; and then there was a long
+silence; while the carriage rattled along over the streets, and
+threaded its way through the throng of business, or bread-seekers or
+pleasure-seekers. So many people! Dolly wondered if every one of them
+carried his secret burden of care, as she was doing; and if they were,
+she wondered how the world lived on and bore the multitudinous strain.
+Oh, to be a child, in the full, blessed sense of the term!
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap16"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XVI.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+A FIGHT.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+The cab stopped, and Dolly's heart gave a great thump against her ribs.
+What was she afraid of?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Jersey said she would wait in the cab, and Dolly applied herself
+to the door-knocker. A servant came, a stupid one seemingly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is Mr. Copley at home?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I dunno."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Will you find out, please?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Jemima, who's that?" called a voice of authority from behind the
+scenes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Somebody arter the gentleman, ma'am. I dunno, is he in his room?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The owner of the voice came forward; a portly, respectable landlady.
+She surveyed Dolly, glanced at the cab, became very civil, invited
+Dolly in, and sent the maid upstairs to make inquiries, declaring she
+did not know herself whether the gentleman were out or in. Dolly would
+not sit down. The girl brought down word that Mr. Copley was not out of
+his bedroom yet.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I went in the parlour, ma'am, and knocked, ma'am; and I might as well
+ha' axed my broom, ma'am."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll go up," said Dolly hastily; and waiting for no answer, she
+brushed past landlady and maid and ran up the stairs. Then paused.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Which rooms? on the first floor?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The woman of the house came bustling after her up the stairs and opened
+the door of a sitting-room. It was very comfortably furnished.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You couldn't go wrong, ma'am," she said civilly, "I 'ave no one in my
+rooms at this present, except Mr. Copley. I suppose you are his
+daughter, ma'am?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"His daughter," Dolly repeated, standing still and facing the landlady,
+and keeping down all outward expression of the excitement which was
+consuming her. She knew she kept it down; she faced the woman steadily
+and calmly, and the landlady was more and more humbly civil. "Mr.
+Copley is not ill?" Dolly went on.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, dear, no, ma'am! not to call h'ill. Mr. Copley is in enjoyment of
+very good 'ealth; as I 'ave occasion to know, ma'am, who cooks his
+meals for him. I can allers tell by that. When a gentleman or a lady
+'as good taste for their victuals, I think it's no 'arm if they sleeps
+a little long in the morning; it's a trifle onconvenient to the 'ouse,
+it may be, when things is standing roun', but it's good for
+theirselves, no doubt, and satisfyin' and they'll be ready for their
+breakfast when they comes h'out. And shall I wake Mr. Copley for you,
+ma'am? It's time for him, to be sure."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Thank you, no; you need not do anything. I will sit here and wait a
+little."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And Mr. Copley's coffee'll be ready for him, ma'am, when he's ready
+for h'it. Mr. Copley, he sets a good deal by his coffee, and likes it
+made particular, and he <I>gets</I> it made particular. Didn't Mr. Copley
+tell you, ma'am, as his coffee was satisfactory?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I daresay it is," said Dolly; "and I will ring for it when my father
+wants it. You may leave me; I will wait here."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The landlady had been going round the room, picking up a bit of paper
+here and wiping her apron over a table there, the while taking a
+careful view of Dolly and examining her all over. Dolly's figure and
+manner were irreproachable; and with renewed proffers of service, the
+woman at last, having no choice, left the room. Dolly stood still a
+moment then, collecting herself and looking at the situation. Past one
+o'clock, and her father not out of his room! That was not like any of
+his habits, as she knew them; and Dolly stood with the shadow of a
+nameless fear falling across her spirit. Nameless, and formless; she
+did not discern it clearly or attempt to examine it; the mere shadow of
+it chilled her to the bone. She stood thinking, and trembling. Not at
+his office for several days, though business must be calling for him;
+not out of his room at one o'clock in the afternoon, though all his old
+simple home habits were opposed to such a waste of daylight! Should she
+try to arouse him? Dolly did try, after a little while; for she could
+not bear the still waiting; she knocked at the inner door; but she got
+no response. Then she went down to Mrs. Jersey at the cab, and told her
+the state of the case, begging her to go away and not wait any longer.
+<I>She</I> must wait, and it was impossible to say how long.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Miss Dolly, does your father often rise so late?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They say so. He never used, but it seems he does now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's the way with a many," said the housekeeper. "Never mind me, my
+dear. I'll wait here, or if I get tired of that, I will come in and sit
+with the landlady. I shall not leave you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Inwardly thankful, Dolly went back to her post and sat down and looked
+around her. She could tell nothing by the room or its contents. Both
+were nice enough; there was a slight smell of cigars, that was all to
+find fault with. Dolly waited. The stillness grew dreadful. To
+seventeen years old the first trouble comes hard; albeit seventeen
+years old has also a great fund of spirit and strength to meet and
+conquer trouble. But what was the trouble here? It was not the unusual
+scantiness of means; <I>that</I> could soon be made right, if other things
+were not wrong which wrought to cause it. On the other hand, if her
+father had fallen irreparably into bad habits&mdash;Dolly would not admit
+the "irreparably" into her thoughts. But it was bitter to her that
+children should ever have to find their parents in the wrong; dreadful
+to have occasion to be ashamed of them. She knew, if her case proved
+such a one, it would be only one of a great many; she had read of such
+things, although chiefly among another class of people who were of
+coarser habits and duller natures, and if they fell had less distance
+to fall to get to the lowest level of society. But <I>her father!</I>&mdash;Dolly
+cowered with her head down upon the back of a chair, and a cry in her
+heart calling upon his name. Her father? could she have to blush for
+him? All her nature revolted against it; the thought came over her as a
+thick black cloud, so thick that for the moment light was banished from
+all her little landscape. Oh, how can fathers do such things! and how
+can daughters live under them! Death might be borne easier; but
+disgrace? Death would leave the loved one still her own; disgrace
+seemed to have a power of annihilation. Still, Dolly knew not that such
+trouble was really come upon her; alas, she did know too well that the
+fear of it had. And what a descent did that alone imply! She raised her
+head again, and sat with dry eyes and a beating heart, waiting.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At last she was sure she heard some movement in the inner room. She
+heard the click of things that were moved; the fall of a chair that was
+knocked over, sounds of steps. Finally the door opened, and Mr. Copley
+appeared on the threshold. The sight of him smote his daughter. His
+dress was carelessly thrown on; <I>that</I> was not so very remarkable, for
+Mr. Copley never was an exact man in matters of the toilet. It was not
+merely that. But Dolly's eye saw that his step was unsteady, his face
+dull and flushed, and his eye had a look which even a very little
+experience understands. His air was haggard, spiritless, hopeless; so
+unlike the alert, self-sufficient, confident manner of old, that
+Dolly's heart got a great wrench. And something in the whole image was
+so inexpressibly pitiful to her, that she did the very last thing it
+had been in her purpose to do; she fled to him with one bound, threw
+herself on his breast, and burst into a heartbreak of tears.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Poor Mr. Copley was greatly startled and sorely perplexed. He had not
+been prepared to see his daughter; and though miserably conscious that
+he offered ground enough himself for Dolly's passion, he could not yet
+be sure that it concerned him. It might be wrought by some other cause;
+and in sore dismay and uncertainty he was not able to bring out a word
+of question. Dolly sobbed, and sobbed; and putting her arms up around
+his neck strained him in an embrace that was most pitifully longing and
+tender. Mr. Copley felt the pitifulness; he did not know what it meant.
+It was not till Dolly had released him and was trying to dry her eyes
+that he brought out a question.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What's the matter with you, Dolly?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly heard the thick and lumbering accent of his words, and burst
+forth in a despairing cry. "O father! what is the matter with you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm all right," said poor Mr. Copley. "I'm all right. What are you
+here for?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wanted to see you. Why did you never come down? You haven't been
+near us."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I was coming&mdash;hindered always&mdash;I was coming, Dolly. How's your mother?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly made a great effort after voice and calmness.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She is well&mdash;I mean, she is no worse than usual. Will you have your
+coffee, father?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+But Dolly's voice choked with a sob. Mr. Copley looked at her in a
+helpless kind of way and made no answer. Dolly rang the bell.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How&mdash;a&mdash;how did you get here?" was the next question, put in evident
+embarrassment.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You wouldn't come to Brierley, father; so I had to come to London. I
+came with a friend."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"St. Leger?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"St. Leger! No, indeed. Oh, I came with a very nice friend, who took
+good care of me. Now, here's your breakfast."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly was glad of the chance to get upon common everyday ground, till
+her breath should be free again. She helped arrange the dishes;
+dismissed the maid; poured out Mr. Copley's coffee and served him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Better take some yourself, Dolly. Had your breakfast? Let Mrs. Bunce
+do you another chop."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly at first said no; but presently felt that she was faint and
+exhausted, and agreed to the suggestion. She rang for another cup and
+plate, and ordered the chop. Meanwhile Mr. Copley drank coffee and made
+a poor hand of the rest of his breakfast.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What did you come up for, Dolly?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To see you, sir."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You might have waited for that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But how long? I had waited."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What's up?&mdash;if your mother's well."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wanted to talk to you, father, and I couldn't do it in letters;
+because there the talking was all on one side, and I wanted to hear
+what you would say."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, didn't I answer you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, sir."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, what do you want, Dolly?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I want a great deal, father. Wait, please, till I get my chop; for I
+cannot talk to you till I do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'Ill talking between a full man and a fasting,' eh? Well, here's your
+breakfast."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was only the bespoken cup and plate, however, and Mr. Copley had to
+wait longer. It came at last, the chop; and till it came Dolly said no
+more. Her father watched her, and watched her, and could not take his
+eyes off her. The flush on her cheek and the sparkle in her eye, the
+moisture still lingering on her eyelashes, how sweet she was! and how
+indefinably lovely! Dolly had grown into a woman; she had the presence
+and poise that belong to a high-bred woman; and yet she had not lost
+her girlhood nor grown out of its artless graces; and as Mr. Copley
+looked he saw now and then a very childlike trembling of the under lip.
+It troubled his heart. He had been very uncomfortable ever since his
+meeting with his daughter; the discomfort began now to develope into
+the stings and throes of positive pain. What was she there for? whence
+had come that agony of tears? and why when those tears were pouring
+from her eyes did her soft arm clasp him so? did she want help from
+him? or for him? Mr. Copley grew extremely uneasy; restless and
+fidgeting. Dolly ate her chop and her potatoe, needing it, I fancy; and
+perhaps she wanted to gain time too. Mr. Copley had no appetite. He had
+none to begin with, and certainly Dolly's appearance had not given him
+what he had not before.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You don't make much of a breakfast, father," Dolly observed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Never do," he returned. "No time to eat, when a man has just got up. A
+cup of coffee is the only thing. The French way is the best."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You did not use to be up so late, in the old days."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't think it's the best time either; but&mdash;you must do as the rest of
+the world do; swim with the&mdash;what is it?&mdash;swim with the current."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How if the current goes the wrong way?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Can't help yourself; you must go along, if you are in it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly was silent, finishing her luncheon. She ate fast and hurriedly.
+Then she pushed her chair away and came round and sat upon her father's
+knee; laying one arm round his neck and looking into his face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Father," she said in her clear, musical voice, sweet as a bird's
+notes,&mdash;"father, suppose we get out of the current?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What current do you mean? It makes a great confusion to try to have
+your meals at a different hour from the rest of the world."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't mean that, father."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What have you come up to town for?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To see about it," said Dolly, with a smile that dimpled her cheeks
+most charmingly, and covered the anxiety she did not want to show.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To see about what? Dolly, you are grown a woman."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, father."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And, I declare you're a beautiful woman, child. It's time we were
+thinking of getting you married."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You're not in a hurry, are you, father?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In a hurry!" said Mr. Copley, gazing at her admiringly. "Why, yes. I
+want you to be married while you can choose your place in the world,
+and enjoy it when you have got it. And you can choose now, Dolly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What, sir?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your husband."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But, father," cried Dolly, while her cheeks covered themselves with
+the most brilliant roses, "I cannot choose what is not presented to my
+choice!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, child; take what <I>is</I>. That's what I am thinking of. Good enough
+too. Don't you like the ticket you have drawn?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Father," said Dolly, turning the tables now on her side, and laying
+her face in his neck, "I wish you would have nothing to do with
+lotteries or gaming!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have nothing to do with lotteries, child."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But with gaming?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What put such a thing into your head?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly hesitated, strained him a little closer in her embrace, and did
+not answer directly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Father, I wish you would!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What folly are you talking, Dolly?" said Mr. Copley angrily. "You are
+meddling with what you do not understand."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+But Dolly only clung closer, and having once broken the ice would not
+now give back. She must speak now.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Father," she said, half sobbing, yet commanding the sobs down, "we are
+getting ruined. We are losing each other. Mother and I live alone&mdash;we
+do not see you&mdash;we are poor&mdash;we have not money to pay our dues&mdash;mother
+is not getting better&mdash;and I am breaking my heart about her, and about
+you. O father, let us come and live together again."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly got no answer to this outburst, and hardly was conscious that she
+got none, she was so eagerly trying to swallow down the emotion which
+threatened to master her voice. Mr. Copley had no answer ready.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Father," Dolly began again, "mother wants to travel; she wants to go
+to Venice. Suppose we go?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Can't travel without money, Dolly. You say we haven't any."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Would it cost more to travel than to live as we are living?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You say we cannot do that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Father, do <I>you</I> say so?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am merely repeating your statements, Dolly, to show you how like a
+child you talk."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Answer me as if I were a child then, father, and tell me what we can
+do. But <I>don't</I> let us go on living as we are doing!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I thought I had done the very best thing possible for your mother,
+when I got her that place down at&mdash;I forget what's the name of the
+place."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Brierley."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I thought I had done the very best thing for her, when I settled her
+there. Now she is tired of it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But father, we cannot pay our way; and it worries her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She is always worrying about something or other. If it wasn't that, it
+would be something else. Any man may be straightened for cash now and
+then. It happens to everybody. It is nothing to make a fuss about."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But, father, if I cannot pay the servants, <I>they</I> must be without cash
+too; and that is hard on poor people."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not half so hard as on people above them," replied her father hastily.
+"They have ways and means; and they don't have a tenth or a hundredth
+as many wants, anyhow."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But those they have are wants of necessary things," urged Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, what do you want me to do?" said Mr. Copley, with as much of
+harshness in his manner as ever could come out towards Dolly. "I cannot
+coin money for you, well as I would like to do it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Father, let us take what we have got, and go to Venice! all together.
+We'll travel ever so cheaply and live ever so plainly; only let us go!
+Only let us go!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Think your mother'd like travelling second-class?" said Mr. Copley in
+the same way.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She wouldn't mind so very much; and I wouldn't mind it at all. If we
+could only go."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And what is to become of my business?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly did not dare give the answer that rose to her tongue, nor let her
+father know how much she knew. She came up on another side of the
+subject, and insisted that the consulate might be dispensed with. Mr.
+Copley did not need the office and might well be tired of it by this
+time. Dolly pleaded, and her father heard her with a half embarrassed,
+half sullen face; feeling her affectionate entreaties more than was at
+all convenient, and conscious at the same time of a whole side of his
+life that he would be ashamed his daughter should know; and afraid of
+her guessing it. Alas, for father and child both, when such a state of
+things comes about!
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Come, father!" said Dolly at last, touching her forehead to his
+forehead in a sweet kind of caress,&mdash;"I want you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Suppose I find somebody else to go with you instead of me?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nobody else will do. Come, father! Do come."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You might set off with Lawrence," said Mr. Copley as if considering,
+"and I might join you afterwards; at Venice, perhaps, or Nice, or
+somewhere. Hey?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That won't do. I would not go with Mr. Lawrence."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why not?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Too much of an honour for him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You need not be afraid of showing him too much honour, for he is
+willing to give you the greatest man can give to a woman."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly coloured again, and again touched her forehead to her father's
+forehead and sat so, leaning against him. Maybe with an instinct of
+hiding her cheeks.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Father, let us go to Venice!" she began again, leaving Mr. St. Leger.
+"Just think what fun it would be, to go all together. We have been
+living so long without you. I believe it would just make mother up.
+Think of seeing Venice together, father!&mdash;and then maybe we would go on
+to Geneva and get a look at Mont Blanc."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Geneva is a place for lovers," said Mr. Copley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Romantic."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Can't anybody else be romantic, except that sort of people? I am
+romantic,&mdash;and I do not care a straw about anybody but mother and you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't tell Mr. St. Leger that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He might as well know it. Come, father! Say you'll go."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was hard to withstand her. The pure, gentle intonations rang upon
+Mr. Copley's soul almost like bells of doom, because he did withstand
+her. She was his saving good angel; he half knew it; he was ashamed
+before his child, and conscience knocked hard at the door of his heart;
+but the very shame he felt before her made her presence irksome to him,
+while yet it was, oh, so sweet! Alas, "he that doeth evil hateth the
+light." He was entangled in more than one sort of net, and he lacked
+moral power to break the meshes. The gentle fingers that were busy with
+the net, trying to unloose it, were a reproach and a torment to him.
+She <I>must</I> marry St. Leger; so his thoughts ran; it was the best thing
+that could happen to her; it was the best he could do for her. Then she
+would be secure, at all events.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dolly, why don't you like Lawrence?" he began.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He's too handsome, father,&mdash;for one thing."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I never heard of such a reason for a lady's dislike. That's play,
+Dolly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And he knows it; there's another thing."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, of course he knows it. How can he help knowing it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And he's too rich."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dolly, you are talking nonsense."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And he knows that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He doesn't know he's <I>too</I> rich," said Mr. Copley, with a little
+bitterness. "No St. Leger ever did that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, father, that's what he is. Very handsome, and very rich. He is
+nothing else. He would suit some people admirably; but he don't suit
+me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What sort of thing would suit you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A very perverse sort of a person, who is called Frank Collinshaw
+Copley."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, you've got me," said her father, laughing a little at her. He
+could not help it. "You want something else besides."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't, father, indeed."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And, my child, money is necessary in this world. You cannot get along
+without money."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Father, will you come to Venice? and we'll get along with very little
+money. Father, we <I>must</I> go, for mother. The doctor says so, and she is
+just longing to go. We ought to go as soon as ever you can be ready."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You show how much you know about it, when you talk of Venice and a
+<I>little</I> money! You had better take Mr. St. Leger."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Father, everybody says living is cheap in Switzerland."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You talked of Venice."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And Italy. The doctor says mother ought to stay some time at Nice, or
+Naples. Father, you can arrange it. Do! Give up the consulate, and let
+us take mother to Italy; and then home if you like. I don't much care,
+so that we have you." And again Dolly's forehead bent over to give a
+soft impact to her father's brown brow.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who did you come to town with?" he said suddenly. She told him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, now you had better go back with her, and I will see what I can
+do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You will go, father?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If I cannot immediately, I will send you and come on after."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I cannot go without you, father. Oh, come, come!" And Dolly rained
+kisses upon his face, and stroked his forehead and cheeks, and was so
+entirely delicious in her tenderness and her sweetness, her love and
+her anxiety, that the heart of ordinary man could not stand it.
+Anything else became more easy than to refuse her. So Mr. Copley said
+he would go; and received a new harvest of caresses in reward, not
+wholly characterised by the usual drought of harvest-time, for some
+drops of joy and thankfulness still came falling, a sunlit shower.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now, my child," said her father, "you had better go back to your good
+housekeeper, and then back to your mother, and get all things ready for
+a start."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Father, I can stay here to-night, can't I?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Copley was not sure that he wanted her; yet he could not refuse to
+make inquiry. There was no difficulty; plenty of room; and Dolly
+joyously prepared herself to gather in the fruits of her victory,
+through that following care and those measures of security for want of
+which many a victory has been won in vain. Mrs. Jersey had long since
+been informed that she need not wait, and had driven away. Dolly now
+sent for her portmanteau, and established herself in her father's
+sitting room.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Copley looked on, helplessly; half delighted, half bored. He would
+not have chosen to have Dolly there just then; yet being there she was
+one of the most lovely visions that a father's eye could rest upon.
+Grown to be a woman&mdash;yes, she was; ordering and arranging things with a
+woman's wisdom and skill; ordering <I>him</I>, Mr. Copley felt with a queer
+sensation; and yet, so simple and free and sweet in all her words and
+ways as might have become seven instead of seventeen. St. Leger might
+be glad if he could get her! Yet she was inconvenient to Mr. Copley.
+She stood in his way, like the angel in Balaam's; only not with a sword
+drawn, but with loving looks, and kisses, and graces, and wiles of
+affection; and who could withstand an angel? He gave up trying; he let
+her have her way; and when dinner time came, Dolly and he had an almost
+jovial dinner. Until Mr. Copley rose from table, unlocked a cupboard,
+and took out a bottle of wine. Dolly's heart gave a sudden leap that
+meant a throe of pain. Was there another fight to be fought? How should
+she fight another fight? But the emergency pressed her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"O father," she cried, "is that sherry?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, it is better," said her father&mdash;pouring out a glass,&mdash;"it is
+Madeira."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly saw the hand tremble that grasped the bottle, and she sprang up.
+She went round to her father, fell down on her knees before him, and
+laid one hand on the hand that had just seized the glass, the other on
+his shoulder.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Please, father, don't take it! please don't take it!" she said in
+imploring tones. Mr. Copley paused.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not take it? Why not?" said he.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is not good for you. I know you ought not to take it, father.
+Please, please, don't!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly's eagerness and distress were too visible to be disregarded, by
+Mr. Copley at least. Her hand was trembling too. His still held the
+glass, but he looked uncertainly at Dolly, and asked her why it should
+not be good for him? Every gentleman in the land drank wine&mdash;that could
+afford it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But, father," said Dolly, "can you afford it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes," said Mr. Copley. "Get up, Dolly. Here is the wine; it costs no
+more to drink it than to let it alone." And he swallowed the wine in
+the glass at a single draught.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"O father, don't take any more!" cried Dolly, seeing a preparatory
+movement of the hand towards the bottle. "O father! don't, don't! One
+glass is enough. Don't take any more to-day!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You talk like a goose, Dolly," said Mr. Copley, filling his glass. "I
+feel better already for that. It has done me good."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You only think so. It is not doing you good. O father! if you love me,
+put the bottle away. Don't take a drop more!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly had turned pale in her agony of pleading; and her father,
+conscious in part, and ashamed with that secret consciousness, and
+taken by surprise at her action, looked at her and&mdash;did not drink.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What's the matter with you, child?" he said, trying for an unconcerned
+manner. "Why should not I take wine, like everybody else in the world?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Father, it isn't good for people."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I beg your pardon; it is very good for me. Indeed, I cannot be well
+without it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's the very thing, father; people cannot do without it; and then
+it comes to be the master; and then&mdash;they cannot help themselves. Oh,
+do let it alone!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What's the matter, Dolly?" Mr. Copley repeated with an air of injury,
+which was at the same time miserably marred by embarrassment. "Do you
+think I cannot help myself? or how am I different from every other
+gentleman who takes wine?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Father, a great many of them are ruined by it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I am not ruined by it yet."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Father, how can you tell what might be? Father, I can't bear it!"
+Dolly could not indeed; she broke down. She sat on the floor and sobbed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+If Mr. Copley could have been angry with her; but he could not, she was
+so sweet in every pleading look and tone. If he could have dismissed
+her pleading as the whimsy of a fool; but he could not, for he knew it
+was wise truth. If he had been further gone in the habit which was
+growing upon him, to the point of brutality; but he was not yet; he was
+a man of affectionate nature. So he did not get angry, and though he
+wished Dolly at Brierley instead of in his room, he could not let her
+break her heart, seeing that she was there. He looked at her in
+uncomfortable silence for a minute or two; and then the bitterness of
+Dolly's sobs was more than he could stand. He rose and put the bottle
+away, locked it up, and came back to his place. Dolly's distress
+hindered her knowing what he had done.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's gone," Mr. Copley said in an injured tone, as of one oppressed
+and persecuted. "It is put away, Dolly; you need not sit there any
+longer."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly looked up, rose from the floor, came into her father's arms, laid
+her two arms about his neck and her weary head upon his shoulder. It
+was a soft little head, and the action was like a child. Mr. Copley
+clasped her tenderly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dolly," he said,&mdash;"my child&mdash;you are giving yourself a great deal more
+trouble than you need."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly murmured, "Thank you, father!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You mustn't be superstitious."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alas! Dolly had seen his face already altered by the indulgence of his
+new habits. Involuntarily her arms pressed him closer, and she only by
+an effort prevented a new outbreak of bitter sorrow. That was not best
+just now. She put a force upon herself; after a while looked up, and
+kissed her father; kissed him again and again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I declare!" said Mr. Copley, half delighted and half
+conscience-stricken, "you are a little witch, Dolly. Is this the way
+you are going to rule other folks beside me? Mr. St. Leger, for
+instance?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mercy, father! no," said Dolly, recoiling.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't believe he would be hard to manage. He's desperately in love
+with you, Dolly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Father, I don't want to manage. And I don't think Lawrence is in any
+danger. It isn't in him to be desperate about anything."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So much the better, I think," said her father. "What if he should want
+to go with us to Venice?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't let him! We do not want him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He would be useful, I daresay. And I should have to take my secretary,
+Dolly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Take that other fellow, the one I saw in your office to-day."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What, Babbage? He's a raw article, Dolly, very raw. I put him there to
+answer questions. The fellow was in a forlorn state here with nothing
+to do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They calmed down after a while; and the rest of the evening was largely
+spent in considering plans and details of their projected movements. It
+was agreed that Dolly should rejoin Mrs. Jersey the next day, to be
+ready to return to Brierley with her; that then all preparations should
+be made for a speedy start to the Continent. Father and daughter talked
+themselves into ordinary composure, and when they had bid each other
+good night, Dolly went to rest with a feeling of some hopefulness.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap17"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XVII.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+RUPERT.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Jersey could not leave town the next day. Dolly had to wait. It
+was hard waiting. She half wished she had stayed that day also with her
+father; yet when she asked herself why?&mdash;she shuddered. To take care of
+him? to watch and keep guard over him? What use, for one day, when she
+could do it no longer? Mr. Copley must be left to himself; and a
+feeling of helplessness stole over her. From the momentary
+encouragement and hope, she fell back again to take a more
+comprehensive view of the subject; she saw that all was not gained yet,
+and it might be that nothing! And she could do no more, except pray.
+Poor Dolly did that; but the strain of fear, the horror of shame, the
+grief of hurt affection, began to make her very sore. She was not
+getting accustomed to her burden; it was growing more insupportably
+galling; the only hope for the whole family lay in getting together and
+remaining together, and in this journey taking Mr. Copley away from his
+haunts and his tempters. Yet Dolly reflected with trembling that the
+temptation, both temptations, would meet them on their way; if a man
+desired to drink or to play, he would never be at a loss for the
+opportunity or the companions. Dolly wrung her hands and prayed again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+However, something was gained; and Dolly on her return reported to her
+mother that they were to set off for the Continent in a few days. She
+brought down money, moreover, to pay off the servants; and with a heart
+so far lightened, went bravely at the preparations to be made.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And will your father go with us to Venice?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course, mother. We cannot go without him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What if Venice shouldn't agree with me?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, then we'll go on further. I think Naples would agree with you.
+There is a very nice house at Sorrento&mdash;nice people&mdash;where Lady
+Brierley spent a summer; and Mrs. Jersey has given me the address.
+Perhaps we'll go there."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But if Lady Brierley was there, I guess it's an expensive place."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, Mrs. Jersey says not. You must have what you want anyhow, mother
+dear."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I always used," said poor Mrs. Copley; "but of late I have been
+obliged to sing another tune."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Go back to the old tune, then, dear. If father hasn't got the money,
+I'll find some way of raising it myself. I mean you shall go to
+Sorrento. Mrs. Jersey says it's just charming there."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wonder what she knows about it! A housekeeper! Queer person to tell
+you and me where to go."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, a finger-post can do that, mother. Mrs. Jersey knows a great deal
+besides, about a great many things."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well!" Mrs. Copley said again with another sigh&mdash;"it is new times to
+me altogether. And I wish the old times would come back!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Perhaps they will, mother. When once we get hold of father again, we
+must try to charm him into staying with us."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And it seemed to Dolly that they might do so much. The spirit of
+seventeen is not easily kept down; and with the stir of actually
+getting ready for the journey, she felt her hope and courage moving
+also. A change at any rate was before her; and Dolly had a faint,
+far-off thought of possibly working upon her father to induce him at
+the close of their Italian journey to take ship for home.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+So she bustled about from morning till night; packed what was to go and
+what was to be left; grew very cheery over her work, and cheered and
+amused her mother. September was on its way now; it was time to be off;
+and Dolly wrote to her father to tell him she was ready.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A few days later, Dolly was in the porch resting and eating a fine
+pear, which came out of a basket Mrs. Jersey had sent. It was
+afternoon, sunny and hazy, the air fragrant from the woods, the silence
+now and then emphasised by a shot somewhere in the distance. Dolly was
+happy and hopeful; the weather was most lovely, the pear was excellent;
+she was having a pleasant half hour of musing and anticipation.
+Somebody came on foot along the road, swung open the small lattice
+gate, and advanced up the path towards her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Who was it? Not Mr. St. Leger, which had been Dolly's first momentary
+fear. No, this was a different creature. A young man, but how unlike
+that other. St. Leger was trim-built, smooth, regular, comely; this
+young fellow was lank, long-limbed, none of his joints played
+symmetrically with the others; and the face, though shrewd enough and
+good-natured, had no remote pretensions to beauty. His dress had not
+been cut by the sort of tailor that worked for the St. Legers; his
+gait, instead of the firm, compact, confident movement which Dolly was
+accustomed to see, had a swinging stride, which indeed did not lack a
+kind of confidence; the kind that makes no doubt of getting over the
+ground, and cares little for obstacles. As Dolly looked, she thought
+she had seen him before. But it was very odd, nevertheless, the sort of
+well-pleased smile his face wore. He took off his hat when he got to
+the foot of the steps, and stood there looking up at Dolly in the porch.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You don't recollect me, I guess," said he.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said Dolly gravely.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am Rupert Babbage. And <I>that</I> don't make you much wiser, does it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said Dolly. "Not at all."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Likely. But Mr. Copley has sent me down."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Has he?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I recollect you first-rate," the stranger went on, feeling in his coat
+pocket for something and producing therefrom a letter. "Don't you know
+the day you came to your father's office?" And mounting a step or two,
+without further preface he handed the letter to Dolly. Dolly saw her
+father's handwriting, her own name on the cover, and put a stop to the
+wonder which was creeping over her, by breaking the seal. While she
+read the letter the young man's eyes read her face.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+"DEAR DOLLY,&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I can't get quit of this confounded Babel yet&mdash;and you must want
+somebody badly. So I send Rupert down. He'll do everything you want,
+better in fact than I could, for he is young and spry, and as good a
+boy as lives. He will see to everything, and you can get off as soon as
+you like. I think he had better go along all the way; his mother wit is
+worth a dozen stupid couriers, even though he don't know quite so much
+about routes and hotels; he will soon pick all that up. Will you want
+to stay more than a night in town? For that night my landlady can take
+you in; and if you let me know when you will be ready I will have your
+passage taken in the packet.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Hurried, as always, dear Dolly, with my love to your mother,
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"F. C. COPLEY,
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"CONSUL'S OFFICE LONDON,
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"<I>Sept</I>. 9, 182-."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+Poor Dolly read this note over and over, having thrown away the
+remainder of her sweet pear as belonging only to a time of easy
+pleasure-taking which was past. Was her father not coming to Brierley
+then? she must get off without him? Why? And "<I>your</I> passage"! why not
+"our" passage? Dolly felt the ground giving way under her feet. No, her
+father could not be coming to Brierley, or he would not have sent this
+young fellow. And all things in the world were hovering in uncertainty;
+nothing sure even to hope.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The eyes that watched her saw the face change, the fair, bright, young
+face; saw her colour pale, and the lovely lines of the lips droop for a
+moment to an expression of great sadness. The eyelids drooped too, and
+he was sure there was a glistening under them.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did Mr. Copley say why he could not come?" she asked at length,
+lifting her head.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He did not. I am very sorry!" said Rupert involuntarily. "I guess he
+could not get his business fixed. And he said you were in a hurry."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+But not without him! thought Dolly. What was the whole movement for, if
+he were to be left out of it? What should she do? But she must not let
+the tears come. That would do nobody any good, not even herself. She
+brushed away the undue moisture, and raised her head.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did Mr. Copley tell you who I am?" the young man asked. "I guess he
+didn't forget that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No. Yes!" said Dolly, unable to help smiling at the question and the
+simple earnestness of the questioner's face. "He told me your name."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Left you to find out the rest?" said he. "Well, what can I do first?
+That's what for I'm come."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't think there is anything to do," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All ready?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes. Pretty much. All except finishing."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Lots o' baggage?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, not so very much. We did not bring a great deal down here."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then it'll go by the coach easy enough. How will it get to the coach?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know. We must have a waggon from the village, I suppose, or
+from some farmhouse."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"When do you want to go? and I'll soon fix that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly reflected and said, "The day after to-morrow."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All right."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He was setting forth immediately, with a world of energy in his gait.
+Dolly called after him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To-morrow will be time enough for the waggon, Mr. Babbage."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There'll be something else for to-morrow," he answered without pausing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Tea'll be ready at six," said Dolly, raising her voice a little.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All right!" said he, and sped away.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly looked after him, so full of vexation that she did not know what
+to do. Not her father, and in his place this boy! This boy to go with
+them on the journey; to be one of the party; to be always on hand; for
+he could not be relegated to the place of a servant or a courier. And
+Dolly wanted her father, and was sure that the expense of a fourth
+person might have been spared. The worst fear of all she would not look
+at; it was possible that they were still to be three, and her father,
+the fourth, left out. However, for the present the matter in hand was
+action; she must tell her mother about this new arrival before she met
+him at supper. Dolly went in.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your father not coming?" said Mrs. Copley when she had heard Dolly's
+report. "Then we have nothing to wait for, and we can get right off. I
+do want to see your father out of that miserable office once!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, he promised me, mother," said Dolly, sighing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Can we go to-morrow?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, mother; there are too many last things to do. Next day we will."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why can't we go and leave this young man to finish up after us?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He could not do it, mother; and we must let father know, besides."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Rupert came back in due time and was presented to Mrs. Copley; but Mrs.
+Copley did not admire his looks, and the supper-table party was very
+silent. The silence became unbearable to the new-comer; and though he
+was not without a certain shyness in Dolly's presence, it became at
+last easier to speak than to go on eating and not speaking.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Plenty of shootin' round about here, I s'pose," he remarked. "I heard
+the guns going."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The preserves of Brierley are very full of game," Dolly answered; "and
+there are some friends of Lord Brierley staying at the house."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I engaged a waggon," Rupert went on. "It'll be here at one, sharp."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I ought to have sent a word to the post-office, for father, when you
+went to the village; but I did not think till it was too late."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I did that," said Rupert.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sent a word to father?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All right. Told him you'd be up on Wednesday."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, thank you. That was very thoughtful."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You're from America," said Mrs. Copley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Should think I was!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Whereabouts? where from, I mean?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"About two miles from your place&mdash;Ortonville is the spot. My native."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What made you come over here?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I s'pose it would be as true as anything to say, Mr. Copley made
+me come."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What for?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I guess it was kindness. Most likely."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Kindness!" echoed Mrs. Copley. "Poor kindness, I call it, to take a
+man, or a boy, or any one else, away from his natural home. Haven't you
+found it so? Don't you wish you were back there again?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well," said Rupert with a little slowness, and a twinkle in his eye at
+the same time,&mdash;"I just don't; if I'm to tell the truth."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is incomprehensible to me!" returned the lady. "Why, what do you
+find here, that you would not have had at home?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"England, for one thing," said the young man with a smile.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"England! Of course you would not have had England at home; but isn't
+America better?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think it is."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then what do you gain by exchanging one for the other?" said Mrs.
+Copley with heat.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That exchange ain't made yet. I calculate to go back, when I have got
+all I want on this side."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And what do you want? Money, I suppose. Everything is for money, with
+everybody. Country, and family, and the ease of life, and the pleasure
+of being together&mdash;nothing matters, if only one may get money! I don't
+know but savages have the best of it. At least they don't live for
+money."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Copley forgot at the moment that she was wishing her daughter to
+marry for money.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I counsel you, young man," she began again. "Money won't buy
+everything."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He laughed good-humouredly. "Can't buy much without it," he said, with
+that shrewd twinkle in his eye.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And what can Mr. Copley do for you, I should like to know?" she went
+on impatiently.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He's put me in a likely way," said Rupert. "I am very much beholden to
+Mr. Copley. But the best thing he has done for me is this&mdash;by a long
+jump."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"<I>This?</I> What?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Letting me go along this journey. I do <I>not</I> think money is the very
+best of all things," the young man said with some spirit.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Letting you&mdash;&mdash; Do you mean that you are going to Venice in our party?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If it is Venice you are going to."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Silence fell. Mrs. Copley pondered the news in some consternation. To
+Dolly it was not news, and she did not mean it should be fact, if she
+could help it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Perhaps you have business in Venice?" Mrs. Copley at length ventured.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I hope it'll turn out so," said Rupert. "Mr. Copley said I might have
+the pleasure of taking care of you. I should enjoy that, I guess, more
+than making money."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Good gracious!" was all the speech Mrs. Copley was capable of. She sat
+and looked at the young man. So, furtively, did Dolly. He was enjoying
+his supper; yes, and the prospect too; for a slight flush had risen to
+his face. It was not a symmetrical face, but honesty was written in
+every line of it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You've got your plans fixed?" Rupert next inquired. "Know just which
+way you are going? Be sure you are right, and then go ahead, you know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We take the boat to Rotterdam," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Which way, then? Mr. Copley told me so much."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know," said Mrs. Copley. "If I could once get hold of Mr.
+Copley we could soon settle it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What points do you want to make?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Points? I don't want to make any points. I don't know what you mean."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I mean, where do you want to go in special, between here and Venice?
+or are there no places you care about?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Places? Oh!&mdash;Well, yes, there are. I should like to see the place
+where the battle of Waterloo was fought."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mother, that would be out of our way," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Which is our way?" said Mrs. Copley. "I thought we had not fixed it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You don't go up the Rhine, then?" said Rupert.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm going nowhere by boat except where I can't help myself. I like to
+feel land under me. No, we are not going up the Rhine. I can see
+mountains enough in America, and rivers enough too."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Rupert had finished his supper, and took up an atlas he saw lying near.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Rotterdam," he said, opening at the map of Central Europe,&mdash;"that is
+our one fixed point, that and Venice. Now, how to get from the one to
+the other."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Copley changed her seat to come nearer the map; and an animated
+discussion followed, which kept her interested and happy the whole of
+the evening. Dolly saw it and was thankful. It was more satisfactory
+than the former consultation with St. Leger, who treated the subject
+from quite too high and lordly a point of view; referring to the best
+hotels and assuming the easiest ways of doing things; flinging money
+about him, in imagination, as Mrs. Copley said, as if it were coming
+out of a purse with no bottom to it; which to be sure might be very
+true so far as he was concerned, but much discomposed the poor woman
+who knew that on her part such pleasant freehandedness was not to be
+thought of. Rupert Babbage evidently did not think of it. He considered
+economy. Besides, he was not so distractingly <I>au fait</I> in everything;
+Mrs. Copley could bear a part in the conversation. So she and Rupert
+meandered over the map, talked endlessly, took a vast deal of pleasure
+in the exercise, and grew quite accustomed to each other; while Dolly
+sat by, glad and yet chafing. Rupert certainly was a comfort, for the
+hour; but she wished he had never been thought of, nevertheless.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+But he was a comfort next day again. Cheery and busy and efficient, he
+managed people, sent the luggage off, helped and waited upon Mrs.
+Copley, and kept her quiet with his talk, up to the time when the third
+day they took their places in the coach.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Really, Mr. Babbage, you are a very handy young man!" Mrs. Copley once
+had uttered her admiration; and Rupert laughed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I shouldn't think much of myself," he said, "if I couldn't do as much
+as that. You see, I consider that I'm promoted."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly made the journey up to town in a state between relief and
+disgust. Rupert did take a world of trouble off her hands; but she said
+to herself that she did not want it taken off. And she certainly did
+not want this long-legged fellow attending upon them everywhere. It was
+better to have him than St. Leger; that was all you could say.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The days in London were few and busy. Mr. Copley during this interval
+was very affectionate, very kind and attentive; in fact, so attentive
+to supplying or providing against every possible want that he found
+little time to be with his family. He and Rupert were perpetually
+flying out and in, ordering this and searching for that; a sort of
+joyous bustle seemed to be the order of the day; for he carried it on
+gleefully.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, Mr. Copley," his wife said, when he brought her an elegant little
+leather case for holding the tinctures and medicines in which she
+indulged, "I thought we must economise so hard? I thought you had no
+money now-a-days? How is this, and what does it mean? this case must
+have cost a pound."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are worth more than a pound, my dear," Mr. Copley said with a sort
+of semi-earnestness.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But I thought you were so poor all of a sudden?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We are going to turn a new leaf, and live frugally; so you see, on the
+strength of that, we can afford to be extravagant now and then."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That seems to me a very doubtful way, Mr. Copley," said his wife,
+shaking her head.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't be doubtful, my dear. Whatever else you do, go straight to your
+mark, and don't be doubtful. Humming and hawing never get on with
+anything. Care killed a cat, my dear."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It has almost killed me," said poor Mrs. Copley. "Are we out of need
+of care, Frank?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"<I>You</I> are. I'll take all the care for the family. My dear, we are
+going in for play, and Venice."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly heard this, and felt a good deal cheered. What was her
+consternation, then, when the day of sailing came, and at the last
+minute, on board the packet, her father declared he must wait; he could
+not leave London yet for a week or two, but he could not let <I>them</I> be
+delayed; he would let St. Leger go to look after them, and he would
+catch them up before they got to Venice. All this was said in a breath,
+in a rush and hurry, at the moment of taking leave; the luggage was on
+board, Rupert was looking after it, Mr. St. Leger's elegant figure was
+just stepping across the gangway; and Mr. Copley kissed and shook hands
+and was off, with a word to Lawrence as he passed, before Mrs. Copley
+or Dolly could throw in more than an exclamation of dismay to stop him.
+Stop him! one might as well stop a gust of wind. Dolly saw he had
+planned it all; reckoned the minutes, got them off on purpose without
+himself, and <I>with</I> Mr. St. Leger. And here was Mr. St. Leger to be
+spoken to; coming up with his assured step and his handsome, indolent
+blue eyes, to address her mother. St. Leger was a nice fellow; he was
+neither a fool nor a coxcomb; but the sight of him was very
+disagreeable to Dolly just then. She turned away, as full of vexation
+as she could hold, and went to Rupert's side, who was looking after the
+luggage.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you want to see your berth right away?" he asked her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My berth?" said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, yes; your cabin&mdash;state-room&mdash;whatever you call it&mdash;where you are
+to sleep. You know which it is; do you know where it is? I always like
+to get such things straightened out, first thing. Would you like to see
+it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh yes, please," said Dolly; and grasping one of the hand-bags she
+turned away gladly from the deck. Anything for a little respite and
+solitude, from Mr. St. Leger. Rupert found the place, stowed bags and
+wraps and rugs conveniently away, and made Dolly as much at home as she
+could be at five minutes' notice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How long will the passage take?" she asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, if I knew what the weather would be, I would tell you. Shall you
+be sick?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know," said Dolly. "I believe I wish I may. Mr. Babbage, are
+you a Christian?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I ain't a heathen, anyhow," said he, laughing a little.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, but that isn't what I mean. Of course you are not a heathen. But I
+mean&mdash;do you serve the Lord Jesus, and do you love Him?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly had it not in mind to make a confidant of her new squire; but in
+the terrible confusion and trouble of her spirits she grasped at any
+possible help or stay. The excitement of the minute lifted her quite
+out of ordinary considerations; if Rupert was a Christian, he might be
+a stand-by to her, and anyhow would understand her. So she asked. But
+he looked at her and shook his head. The thought crossed him that he
+was <I>her</I> servant, and her service was all that he was distinctly
+pledged to in his own mind. He shook his head.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then what do you do when you are in trouble?" she asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Never been there," said Rupert. "Always find some way out, when I get
+into a fix. Why, are you in trouble?" he asked sympathetically.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh," cried Dolly, "I am in trouble to death, because father hasn't
+come with us!" She could bear it no longer; even seventeen years old
+gives out sometimes; she burst into tears and sat down on a box and
+sobbed. All her hopes dashed to pieces; all her prospects dark and
+confused; nothing but disappointment and perplexity before her. What
+should she do with her mother, she alone? What should she do with Mr.
+St. Leger? a still more vexatious question. And what would become of
+her father, left to himself, and at what possible time in the future
+might she hope that he would break away from his ties and temptations
+and come to rejoin his family? Dolly sobbed in sorrow and bitterness of
+heart. Rupert Babbage stood and looked on wofully; and then delicately
+went out and closed the door.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly's tears did her good. I think it was a help to her too, to know
+that she had so efficient and faithful a servant in the despised Rupert
+Babbage. At any rate, after a half hour or so, she made her appearance
+on deck and met Mr. St. Leger with a calm apparent unconcern, which
+showed her again equal to the occasion. Circumstances were making a
+woman of Dolly fast.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. St. Leger's talk had in the meantime quieted Mrs. Copley. He
+assured her that her husband would soon come after and catch up with
+them. Now he turned his attention to Dolly and Rupert.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who is that fellow?" he asked Dolly, when Rupert had left them for a
+minute.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He is a young man in my father's office. Did you never see him there?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But what is he doing <I>here?</I> We do not want him, it strikes me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He is very useful, and able."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well&mdash;aw&mdash;but cannot he keep his good qualities to their proper
+sphere? He is not an addition of much value to our society."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Take care, Mr. St. Leger! He is an American; he cannot be set down
+with the servants."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why not, if his education and habits make that his place?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, but they do not."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It seems to me they do, if you will pardon me. This fellow has never
+been in any gentleman's society, except your father's."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He will be a gentleman himself, in all essentials, one day, Mr. St.
+Leger. There is the difference. The capability is in him, and the
+ambition, and the independent and generous feeling. The foundations are
+all there."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll confess the house when I see it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ay, but you must in the meantime do nothing to hinder its building."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why must not I?" said Lawrence, laughing. "It is not my part to lay
+hold on a trowel and be a social mason. Still less is it yours."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, there you are wrong. I think it is everybody's part."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you? But fancy, what a dreadful thing life would be in that way.
+Perpetual rubbish and confusion. And pardon me&mdash;can you pardon
+me?&mdash;that is my idea of America."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not think it is a just one," said Dolly, as Rupert now drew near
+again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is there not perpetual building going on there, of this kind as well
+as of the more usual?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Perhaps. I was very young when I left home. But what then?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nothing. I have a preference for order and quiet, and things in their
+places."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"At that rate, you know," said Dolly, "nothing would ever have been
+built anywhere. I grant you, the order and quiet are pleasant when your
+own house is all that you desire. But don't you want to see your
+neighbour's house come up?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said Lawrence, laughing. "I have a better prospect from my
+windows if he remains as he is."
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap18"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+A SQUARE PARTY.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+The passage was stormy and long. Mrs. Copley and her daughter were both
+soon fully occupied with attending to their own sensations; and neither
+Rupert nor Lawrence had any more power to annoy them till they reached
+quiet water again. But even in the depths of sea misery, Dolly's deeper
+distress broke forth. "My father! my father! What shall I do to save my
+father!" she was crying in her heart; all the while with a sense that
+every hour was bringing her further from him and from the chance of
+saving him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Still, Dolly was seventeen; and at seventeen one cannot be always cast
+down; and when rough water and troubled skies, and ship noises and
+smells, were all left behind, as it seemed, in the German ocean, and
+Dolly found herself one morning in the hotel at Rotterdam, eating a
+very good breakfast, her spirits sprang up in spite of herself. The
+retiring wave of bodily misery carried with it for the moment all
+other. The sun was shining again; and after breakfast they stood
+together at one of the windows looking out upon the new world they had
+come to. Their hotel faced the quay: they saw before them an extent of
+water glittering in the sunshine, steamers waiting for their time of
+sailing, small craft flying about in all directions, and activity,
+bustle, and business filling every nook and corner of the scene.
+Dolly's heart leaped up; the stir was very inspiriting; and how lovely
+the sunshine was, and how pleasant the novelty! And then, to think that
+she had but touched the shore of novelty; that all Central Europe was
+behind her as she stood looking out on the quay!&mdash;Her father would
+surely catch them up somewhere, and then all would go well. She was
+silent, in the full joy of seeing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What's the next move?" said Lawrence. He did not care for Rotterdam
+quay. He had been looking at Dolly, charmed with the delicate, fresh
+picture she made. The line of frank pleasure on her lips, it was as
+frank as a child's, and the eyes were as absorbed; and yet they were
+grave, womanly eyes, he knew, not easy to cheat, with all their
+simplicity. The mingling of qualities was delicious, and not to be
+found elsewhere in all his sphere of experience. Even her little hands
+were full of character, with a certain precision of action and calm of
+repose which gave to all their movements a certain thorough-bred grace,
+which Lawrence could recognise though he could not analyse. Then the
+little head with its masses of wavy hair was so lovely, and the slim
+figure so full of that same certainty of action and grace of rest which
+he admired; there was nothing undecided about Dolly, and yet there was
+nothing done by rule. That again was a combination he did not know
+elsewhere. Her dress&mdash;he considered that too. It was the simplest of
+travelling dresses, with nothing to mark it, or draw attention, or make
+it unfit for its special use&mdash;in perfectly good taste. How did she
+know? thought Lawrence; for he knew as well as I do that she had not
+learned it of her mother. There was nothing marked about Mrs. Copley's
+appearance; nevertheless she lacked that harmony of simple good taste
+which was all over Dolly. Lawrence looked, until he saw that Rupert was
+looking too; and then he thought it was time to break up the exercise.
+"What is the next move?" he said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We have not settled that," said Dolly. "We could think of nothing on
+board ship. Mother, dear, now we are here, which way shall we go?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know anything about ways," said Mrs. Copley. "Not here in this
+strange country."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then put it another way," said Lawrence. "Where do you want to go?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, to Venice," said Mrs. Copley, looking at him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course; but you want to see something by the way?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I left all that to Mr. Copley," said she, half whimpering. "When do
+you think he will come, Mr. St. Leger? I depended on my husband."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He will come soon," said Lawrence. "But I would not recommend staying
+in Rotterdam to wait for him. What do you say to our asking him to meet
+us in Wiesbaden? To be sure, the season is over."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Wiesbaden?" said Mrs. Copley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Wiesbaden?" cried Dolly. "Oh no, Mr. St. Leger! Not there, nor in any
+such place!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The season is over, Miss Dolly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't want to go to Wiesbaden. Mother, you wanted to see
+something&mdash;what was it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Waterloo"&mdash;&mdash; Mrs. Copley began.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That would take us out of the way of everything&mdash;down into
+Belgium&mdash;and you would not see anything when you got there, Mrs.
+Copley. Only some fields; there is nothing left of the battle."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But if I saw the fields, I could imagine the battle," said Mrs. Copley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Could you? Let us imagine something pleasanter. You don't want to go
+up the Rhine?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't want to go anywhere in a boat, Mr. St. Leger. I am going to
+keep on land, now I've got there. But I was thinking.&mdash;Somebody told me
+of some wonderful painted glass, somewhere near Rotterdam, and told me
+not to miss seeing it. Where is it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I know," said Dolly; "the place was Gonda; in the cathedral. But where
+is Gonda?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nine miles off," said Rupert.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then that's where I want to go," said Mrs. Copley. "I have heard all
+my life of painted glass; now I should like to see what it amounts to."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Perhaps that would take us out of our way too, mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I thought we just said we had no way settled," said Mrs. Copley in an
+irritated tone. "What's the use of being here, if we can't see anything
+now we are here? Nine miles isn't much, anyhow."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We will go there, dear," said Dolly. "We can go so far and come back
+to this place, if necessary."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And there is another thing I want to see, now we are here," Mrs.
+Copley went on. "I want to go to Dresden."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dresden!" cried St. Leger. "What's at Dresden?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A great many things, I suppose; but what I want to see is the Green
+vaults and the picture gallery."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mrs. Copley," said Lawrence quietly, "there are galleries of pictures
+everywhere. We shall find them at every step&mdash;more than you will want
+to look at, by a hundred fold."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But we shall not find Green vaults, shall we? And you will not tell me
+that the Dresden madonna is anywhere but at Dresden?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I did not know you cared so much about pictures, mother," Dolly
+ventured.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't!" said Mrs. Copley,&mdash;"not about the pictures; but I don't like
+to be here and not see what there is to see. I like to say I have seen
+it. It would be absurd to be here and not see things. Your father told
+me to go just where I wanted to; and if I don't go to Waterloo, I want
+to see Dresden."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And from there?" said Lawrence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know. I suppose we can find our way from there to Venice
+somehow."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But do you not include Cologne Cathedral in the things you wish to
+see?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Cologne? I don't know about cathedrals. We are going to see one now,
+aren't we? Isn't one as good as another?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To pray in, I have no doubt," said Lawrence; "but hardly to look at."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, you don't think churches ought to be built to look at, do you? I
+think that is wicked. Churches are meant for something."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You would not object to looking at them when they <I>are</I> built? would
+you? Here we are now, going to see Gonda Cathedral."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, I am not," said Mrs. Copley. "I am going to see the glass windows.
+We shall not see them to-day if we stand here talking."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lawrence ordered a carriage, and the party set out. He wished devoutly
+that it had numbered five instead of four, so that Rupert could have
+been sent outside. But the carnage held them all comfortably.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly was a little uneasy at the travelling problem before her;
+however, no uneasiness could stand long against the charm of that
+morning's drive. The blessed familiar sun shone on a world so very
+different from all the world she had ever known before. On every hand
+were flower gardens; on both sides of the way; and in the midst of the
+flower gardens stood pleasant-looking country houses; while the road
+was bordered with narrow canals, over which drawbridges of extravagant
+size led to the houses. It was a rich and quaint and pretty landscape
+under the September sun; and Dolly felt all concern and annoyance
+melting away from her. She saw that her mother too was amused and
+delighted. Surely things would come out right by and by.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The town interested three of the party in a high degree.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well!" said Mrs. Copley, "haven't they learned here <I>yet</I> to turn the
+front of their houses to the street?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Perhaps they never will," said Lawrence. "Why should they?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Because things ought to be right, if it is only the fronts of houses,"
+said the lady.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wouldn't mind which <I>way</I> they looked, if they would only hold up
+straight," said Rupert. "What ails the town?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Bad soil, most likely," returned Lawrence. "The foundations of Holland
+are moral, not physical."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do you mean by that?" said Mrs. Copley. "I am sure they have
+plenty of money. Is this the cathedral we are coming to?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"St. Jans Kirk ."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, if that's all!&mdash;It isn't handsome a bit!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's real homely, that's a fact," said Rupert.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You came to see the glass windows," said Lawrence. "Let us go in, and
+then pass judgment."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They went in, and then a low exclamation from Rupert was all that was
+heard. The ladies were absolutely mute before the blaze of beauty that
+met them.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well!" said Rupert after a pause of deep silence&mdash;"now I know what
+folks mean when they say something 'beats the Dutch.' That beats all
+<I>I</I> ever saw!&mdash;hollow."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But how delicious!" exclaimed Dolly. "The work is so delicate. And oh,
+the colours! Mother, do you see that purple? Who is the person
+represented there, Mr. St. Leger?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is Philip the Second. And it is not likely, I may remark, that
+any Dutchman painted it. That broken window was given to the church by
+Philip."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who did paint it, then?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I cannot say, really."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What a pity it is broken!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But the others are mostly in very good keeping. Come on&mdash;here is the
+Duke of Alva."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If I were a Dutch woman, I would break that," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, you wouldn't. Consider&mdash;he serves as an adornment of the city
+here. Breaking his effigy would not be breaking <I>him</I>, Miss Dolly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It must be a very strange thing to live in an old country," said
+Dolly. "I mean, if you belong to it. Just look at these windows!&mdash;How
+old is the work itself, Mr. St. Leger?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am not wise in such things;&mdash;I should say it must date from the best
+period of the art. I believe it is said so."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And when was that?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Really, I don't know; a good while ago, Miss Dolly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Philip II. came to reign about the middle of the sixteenth century,"
+Rupert remarked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Exactly," St. Leger said, looking annoyed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, sir," Rupert went on, "I would like to ask you one thing&mdash;can't
+they paint as good a glass window now as they could then?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They may paint a better glass window, for aught I know," said
+Lawrence; "but the painting will not be so good."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's curious," said Rupert. "I thought things went for'ard, and not
+back, in the world. Why shouldn't they paint as well now as ever?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Nobody spoke.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why should they not, Mr. St. Leger?" Dolly repeated.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know, I'm sure. Mrs. Copley, I'm afraid you are fatiguing
+yourself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Copley yielded to this gentle suggestion; and long, long before
+Dolly was ready to go, the party left the church to repair to a hotel,
+and have some refreshment. They were all in high spirits by this time.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is it settled where we are to go next?" Mr. St. Leger inquired as they
+sat at table.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't care where <I>next</I>," said Mrs. Copley; "but only I want to come
+out at Dresden."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But Dresden, mother"&mdash;said Dolly gently, "it is not in our way to
+Venice." She interpreted the expression she saw in Lawrence's face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dolly, the Green vaults are in Dresden. I am not going to be so near
+and not see them. Wasn't I right about the painted windows? I never saw
+anything so beautiful in my life, nor you didn't. I wouldn't have
+missed it for anything. Now you'll see if I ain't right about the Green
+vaults."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do you expect to find in them?" Lawrence asked. "I do not
+remember anything about such a mysterious place."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have heard about it in London," Mrs. Copley answered. "Somebody who
+had been there told me about it, and I made up my mind I'd see it if
+ever I got a chance. It is like having Aladdin's lamp and going down
+into <I>his</I> vault&mdash;only you can't take away what you've a mind to;
+that's the only difference."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But what is there? Aladdin's grotto was full of precious stones, if I
+remember."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And so are these," cried Mrs. Copley. "There is an egg with a hen in
+it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At this there was a general laugh.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's a fact," said Mrs. Copley. "And in the hen, or under it&mdash;<I>in</I> the
+hen, I believe&mdash;there is a crown of gold and diamonds and pearls, with
+a motto. Oh, it's wonderful. It's better than the Arabian Nights, if
+it's true."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Except that we cannot take the egg away with us," said Lawrence.
+"However&mdash;pray, do they let in the indiscriminate public to see these
+wonders?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know. I suppose there are ways to get in, or nobody would have
+been in."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No doubt; the problem is, to find the way. Influence may be necessary,
+possibly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I daresay Mr. Copley can manage it. Do write and ask him what we must
+do, Dolly; and ask him to send us letters, or leave, or whatever we
+must have. Write to-day, will you? and ask him to send it right away.
+Of course there are ways to do things."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"May I make a suggestion?" said Lawrence. "If we are to go on to
+Dresden, why should we return to Rotterdam? We might send back to the
+hotel for our luggage, and meanwhile you can rest here. And then we can
+go on to Utrecht early to-morrow; or this evening, if you like. It
+would save time."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+This plan met approval. Rupert volunteered to go back and bring Mrs.
+Copley's belongings safely to Gonda.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And while you are about it, bring mine too, my good fellow, will you?"
+said St. Leger as Rupert was about to go. He spoke somewhat
+superciliously. But the other answered with cool good humour,
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All right. I'll do that, on the understanding that you'll do as much
+for me next time." And he went.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Confound him!" said Lawrence; while Dolly smiled.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Hush!" she said. "I am sure that is a fair bargain."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where did Mr. Copley pick up such a green hand?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did you never see him at the office?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What office?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The Consul's office, in London. You have been there enough."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, ah&mdash;the Consul's office," said Lawrence. "True, if he was there I
+must have seen him. But what do we want of him here?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He is useful to you just now," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+But afterwards she took up the question again and, what Lawrence did
+not dream of, included his name in it. Why was either of these young
+men there? This time of waiting at the hotel gave Dolly a chance to
+think; and while she sat at the window and watched the strange figures
+and novel sights in the street, her mind began to go over more
+questions than one. She felt in a sort lost without her father. Here
+were she and her mother taking a journey through Europe in the care of
+these two young men. What were they there for? Rupert certainly for her
+pleasure and service, she knew; Lawrence, she was equally sure, for his
+own. How should she manage them? for Lawrence must not be encouraged,
+while at the same time he could not be sent away. At least, not yet.
+Careful, and cool, and womanly, she must be; and that was not so very
+difficult, for poor Dolly felt as if glad childish days were past for
+her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Another question was, how she should get the most good of her journey,
+and how she could help Rupert, who, she could see, was on the watch to
+improve himself. Dolly had a sympathy for him. She resolved that she
+would study up every subject that presented itself, and set Rupert upon
+doing the same. St. Leger might take care of himself. Yet Dolly's
+conscience would not let him go so. No; one can be nobody's travelling
+companion for days or weeks, without having duties to fulfil towards
+him; but Dolly thought the duties were very difficult in this her
+particular case. If her father would but come! And therewith Dolly sat
+down and wrote him the tenderest, lovingest of letters, telling him
+about their journey, and the glass windows; and begging him to meet
+them in Dresden or before, so that they might see the fabulous Green
+vaults together. In any case, she begged him to make such provision
+that Mrs. Copley might not be disappointed of seeing them. All Dolly's
+eloquence and some tears were poured out upon that sheet of paper; and
+as she sealed it up she felt again that she was surely growing to be a
+woman; the days of her childhood were gone.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Not so far off, however, but that Dolly's spirits sprang up again after
+the letter was despatched, and were able to take exquisite pleasure in
+everything the further journey offered. Even the unattractive was
+novel, and what was not unattractive was so charming. She admired the
+quaint, clean, bright, fanciful Dutch towns; the abundance of flowers
+still to be seen abroad; the smiling country places surrounding the
+towns; the strange carvings and devices on the houses; the crooked
+streets.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are the first person I ever saw," Lawrence said admiringly, "who
+found beauty in crooked streets."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you like straight ones?" said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Certainly. Why not?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You look from end to end; you see all there is at once; walk and walk
+as you may, there is no change, but the same wearisome lines of houses.
+Now when streets are not straight, but have windings and turnings, you
+are always coming to something new."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose you like them to be up hill and down too?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, very much!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You do not find that in Holland."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, but in Boston."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah, indeed!" said Lawrence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wonder," Dolly went on, "what makes one nation so different from
+another. <I>You</I> are on an island; but here there is only a line between
+Holland and Germany, and the people are not alike."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Comes from what they eat," said Lawrence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Their <I>food?</I>" said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes. The Scotchman lives upon porridge, the Englishman on beef and
+porter, the German on sausages and beer."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The French?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, on soup and salad and sour wine."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And Italians?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"On grapes and olives."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That will do to talk about," said Dolly; "but it does not touch the
+question."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not touch the question! I beg your pardon&mdash;but it does touch it most
+essentially. Do you think it makes no difference to a man what sort of
+a dinner he eats?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A great difference <I>to</I> some men; but does it make much difference in
+him?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes," said Rupert; and "Yes!" said Lawrence, with a unanimity which
+made Dolly smile. "I can tell you," the latter went on, "a man is one
+thing or another for the day, according to whether he has had a good
+breakfast or a bad one."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I understand. That's temper."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is not temper at all. It is physical condition."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's feeling put to rights, <I>I</I> think," said Rupert.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose all these people are suited, in their several ways," said
+Dolly. "Will mother like Venice, Mr. St. Leger, when we get there? What
+is it like?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Like a city afloat. <I>You</I> will like it, for the strangeness and the
+beautiful things you will find there. I can't say about Mrs. Copley,
+I'm sure."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do they drink there?" said Rupert. "Water?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, not exactly. You can judge for yourself, my good fellow."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But that is Italy," said Dolly. "I suppose there is no beer or porter?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, you can find it, of course, if you want it; there are people
+enough coming and going that <I>do</I> want it; but in Venice you can have
+pure wine, and at a reasonable price, too."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"At hotels, of course," said Dolly faintly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course, at some of them. But I was not thinking of hotels."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of what, then?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Wine-shops.''
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Wine-shops! Not for people who only want a glass, or two glasses?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Just for them. A glass or two, or half a dozen."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Restaurants, you mean?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, I do not mean restaurants. They are just wine-shops; sell nothing
+but wine. Odd little places. There's no show; there's no set out; there
+are just the casks from which the wine is drawn, and the glasses-mugs,
+I should say; queer things; pints and quarts, and so on. Nothing else
+is there, but the customers and the people who serve you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And people go into such places to drink wine? merely to drink, without
+eating anything?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They can eat, if they like. There are street venders, that watch the
+custom and come in immediately after any one enters; they bring fruit
+and confections and trifles."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You do not mean that <I>gentlemen</I> go to these places, Mr. St. Leger?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Certainly. The wine is pure, and sold at a reasonable rate. Gentlemen
+go, of course&mdash;if they know where to go."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly's heart sank. In Venice this!&mdash;where she had hoped to have her
+father with her safe. She had known there was wine enough to be had in
+hotels; but that, she knew too, costs money, if people will have it
+good; and Mr. Copley liked no other. But cheap wine-shops, "if you know
+where to go,"&mdash;therefore retired and comparatively private
+places,&mdash;were <I>those</I> to be found in Venice, the goal of her hopes?
+Dolly's cheeks grew perceptibly pale.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What is the matter, Miss Dolly?" Lawrence asked, watching her. But
+Dolly could not answer; and she thought he knew, besides.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is no harm in pure wine," he went on.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly flashed a look at him upon that, a most involuntary, innocent
+look; yet one which he would have worked half a day for if it could
+have been obtained so. It was eloquent, it was brilliant, it was
+tender; it carried a fiery appeal against the truth of his words, and
+at the same time a most moving deprecation of his acting in consonance
+with them. She dared not speak plainer, and she could not have spoken
+plainer, if she had talked for an hour. Lawrence would have urged
+further his view of the subject, but that look stopped him. Indeed, the
+beauty of it put for the moment the occasion of it out of his head.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Thanks to Rupert's efficient agency, they were able to spend that night
+at Utrecht, and the next day went on. It seemed to Dolly that every
+hour was separating her further from her father; which to be sure
+literally was true; nevertheless she had to give herself up to the
+witchery of that drive. The varied beauty, and the constant novelty on
+every hand, were a perpetual entertainment. Mrs. Copley even forgot
+herself and her grievances in looking out of the carriage windows;
+indeed, the only trouble she gave was in her frequent changing places
+with Dolly to secure now this and now that view.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We haven't got such roads in Massachusetts," remarked Rupert. "This is
+what I call first-rate going."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Have you got such anything else there?" Lawrence inquired smoothly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not such land, I'm bound to say."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said Dolly, "this is not in the least like Massachusetts, in
+anything. O mother, look at those cattle! why there must be thousands
+of them; how beautiful! You would not find such an immense level green
+plain in Massachusetts, Mr. St. Leger. I never saw such a one anywhere."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Copley took that side of the carriage.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It wouldn't be used for a pasture ground, if we had it there," said
+Rupert.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Perhaps it would. I fancy it is too wet for grain," St. Leger answered.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now here is a lake again," said Dolly. "How large, and how pretty!
+Miles and miles, it must be. How pretty those little islands are, Mr.
+Babbage!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Copley exchanged again, and immediately burst out&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dolly, Dolly, did you see that woman's earrings? I declare they were a
+foot long."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I beg your pardon&mdash;half a foot, Mrs. Copley."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do you suppose they are made of?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"True gold or silver."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mercy! that's the oddest thing I've seen yet. I suppose Holland is a
+very rich country."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And here come country houses and gardens again," said Dolly. "There's
+a garden filled with marble statues, mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Copley shifted her seat to the other side to look at the statues,
+and directly after went back to see some curiously trimmed yews in
+another garden. So it went on; Dolly and her mother getting a good deal
+of exercise by the way. Mrs. Copley was ready for her dinner, and
+enjoyed it; and Dolly perceiving this enjoyed hers too.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then they were delighted with Arnheim. They drove into the town towards
+evening; and the quaint, picturesque look of the place, lying bright in
+the sunshine of a warm September day, took the hearts of both ladies.
+The odd gables, the endless variety of building, the balconies hung
+with climbing vines; and above all, the little gardens, gay with fall
+flowers and furnished with arbours or some sort of shelter, under some
+of which people were taking tea, while in others the wooden tables and
+chairs stood ready though empty, testifying to a good deal of habitual
+out-of-door life; they stirred Dolly's fancy and Mrs. Copley's
+curiosity. Both of them were glad to spend the night in such a pretty
+place.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+After they had had supper comfortably, Dolly left her mother talking to
+St. Leger and slipped out quietly to take a walk, having privately
+summoned Rupert to attend her. The walk was full of enjoyment. It
+lasted a good while; till Dolly began to grow a little tired, and the
+evening light was dying away; then the steps slackened which had been
+very brisk at setting out, and Dolly began to let her thoughts go
+beyond what was immediately before her. She was very much inclined to
+be glad now of Rupert's presence in the party. She perceived that he
+was already devoted to her service; not with Mr. St. Leger's
+pretensions, but with something more like the adoration a heathen
+devotee pays to his goddess. Rupert already watched her eyes and
+followed her wishes, sometimes before they were spoken. It was plain
+that she might rely upon him for all to which his powers would reach;
+and a strong element of good-will began to mix with her confidence in
+him. What could she do, to help make this journey a benefit to the boy?
+He had known little of good or gentle influences in his life; yet he
+was gentle himself and much inclined to be good, she thought. And he
+might be very important to her yet, before she got home.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know the first thing about this country," he broke the
+silence. "It was always a little spot in the corner of the map that I
+thought was no sort of count. Why, it's a grand place!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You ought to read about it in history."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I never read much history, that's a fact," Rupert answered. "Never had
+much to read," he added with a laugh. "Fact is, my life up to now has
+been pretty much of a scrimmage for the needful."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Knowledge is needful," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's a fact; but a fellow must live first, you see. And that warn't
+always easy once."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And what are your plans or prospects? What do you mean to be&mdash;or do?
+what do you mean to make of yourself?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Rupert half laughed. "I haven't any prospects&mdash;to speak of. In fact, I
+don't see ahead any further than Venice. As to what I am to be, or
+do,&mdash;I expect that will be settled without any choice of mine. I've got
+along, so far, somehow; I guess I'll get along yet."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are you a Christian?" Dolly asked, following a sudden impulse.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I guess I ain't what you mean by that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do you mean by it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well&mdash;where I come from, they call Christians folks that have j'ined
+the church."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's making a profession," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, I've heard folks call it that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But what is the reality? <I>What</I> do you think a man professes when he
+joins the church?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll be shot if I know," Rupert answered, looking at her hard in the
+fading light. "I'd like first-rate to hear you say."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is just to be a servant of Christ," said Dolly. "A true servant,
+'doing the will of God from the heart.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How are you going to know what His will is? I should be bothered if
+you asked <I>me</I>."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, He has told us that," said Dolly, surprised. "In the Bible."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then I s'pose you've got to study <I>that</I> considerable."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Certainly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, don't it say things pretty different from what most folks do?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes. What then?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then it wouldn't be just easy to get along with it, I should think."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What then?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well!" said Rupert,&mdash;"how are you going to live in the world, and not
+do as the world do?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you <I>have</I> studied the Bible a little?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, fact, I haven't," said Rupert. "But I've heard folks talk now and
+again; and that's what I think about it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Suppose it is difficult?" said Dolly. "But it is really not difficult,
+if one is a true servant of God and not only make-believe. Suppose it
+were difficult, though. Do you remember what Christ said of the two
+ways, serving Him and not serving Him?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Rupert shook his head.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Have you got a Bible of your own?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said Rupert. "That's an article I never owned yet. I've always
+wanted other things more, you see."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And I would rather want everything else in the world," said Dolly. "I
+mean, I would rather be without everything else."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Surely!" said Rupert.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Because I am a servant of Christ, you see. Now that is what I want you
+to be. And as to the question of ease or difficulty&mdash;this is what I was
+going to repeat to you. Jesus said, that those who hear and obey Him
+are like a house planted on a rock; fixed and firm; a house that when
+the storms come and the winds blow, is never so much as shaken. But
+those who do not obey Him are like a house built on the sand. When the
+storms blow and the winds beat, it will fall terribly and all to ruins.
+It seems to me, Mr. Babbage, that <I>that</I> is harder than the other."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Suppose the storms do not come?" said Rupert.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I guess they come to most people," said Dolly soberly. "But the Lord
+did not mean these storms merely. I don't know whether He meant them at
+all. He meant the time by and by.&mdash;Come, we must go home," said Dolly,
+beginning to go forward again. "I wish you would be a servant of
+Christ, Mr. Babbage!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, because all that is sure and strong and safe and happy is on that
+side," said Dolly, speaking eagerly. "All that is noble and true and
+good. You are sure of nothing if you are not a Christian, Mr. Babbage;
+you are not sure even of yourself. Temptation may whirl you, you don't
+know where, and before you know it and before you can help it. And when
+the storms come, those storms&mdash;your house will&mdash;go down&mdash;in the
+sands"&mdash;&mdash; And to Rupert's enormous astonishment, Dolly's voice broke
+here, and for a second she stood still, drawing long sobs; then she
+lifted her head with an effort, took his arm and went swiftly back on
+the way to the hotel. He had not been able to say one word. Rupert
+could not have the faintest notion of the experience which had pointed
+and sharpened Dolly's last words; he could not imagine why, as they
+walked home, she should catch a hasty breath now and then, as he knew
+she did, a breath which was almost a sob; but Rupert Babbage was
+Dolly's devoted slave from that day.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lawrence himself marvelled somewhat at the appearance and manner of the
+young lady in the evening. The talk and the thoughts had roused and
+stirred Dolly, with partly the stir of pain, but partly also the sense
+of work to do and the calling up of all her loving strength to do it.
+Her cheek had a little more colour than usual, her eye a soft hidden
+fire, her voice a thrill of tender power. She was like, Lawrence
+thought, a most rare wild wood flower, some spiritual orchis or
+delicious and delicate geranium; in contrast to the severely trained,
+massive and immoveable tulips and camellias of society. She was at a
+vexatious distance from him, however; and handled him with a calm
+superiority which no woman of the world could have improved upon. Only
+it was nature with Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap19"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XIX.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+SEEING SIGHTS.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+The next day's journey was uninteresting and slow. Mrs. Copley grew
+tired; and even dinner and rest at a good hotel failed to restore her
+spirits.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How many more days will it be before we get to Dresden?" she desired
+to know.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Keep up your courage, Mrs. Copley," said Lawrence. "Remember the Green
+vaults! We have some work before us yet to get there."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We shall not get there to-morrow?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We shall hardly do more than reach Cassel to-morrow."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know anything about Cassel. Will it be nothing but sand all
+the way, like to-day? We have left everything pretty behind us in
+Holland."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think the way will mend a little," Lawrence allowed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What place is next to Cassel?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"As our resting place for the night? I am afraid it will take us two
+days to get to Weimar."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And then Dresden?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, then Leipzig."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, I should like to see Leipzig," cried Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What for?" said her mother. "I am sure all these places are nothing to
+us, and I think the country is very stupid. And I like travelling where
+I know what the people say. I feel as if I had got five thousand miles
+from anywhere. What do you suppose keeps your father, Dolly?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know, mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You may write and tell him, if he don't come to us in Dresden I shall
+go back. This isn't <I>my</I> notion of pleasure."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But it is doing you good, mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I hadn't anything I could eat this evening. If you don't mind, Dolly,
+I'll go to bed."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly did mind, for she longed for a walk again among the strange
+scenes and people. As it was not to be had this time, she sat at her
+window and looked out. It was moonlight, soft weather; and her eye was
+at least filled with novelty enough, even so. But her thoughts went
+back to what was not novel. The day had been dull and fatiguing.
+Dolly's spirits were quiet. She too was longing for her father, with a
+craving, anxious longing that was more full of fear than of hope. And
+as she thought it over again, she did not like her position. Her mother
+was little of a shield between her and what she wanted to escape,
+Lawrence St. Leger's attentions; and she could but imperfectly protect
+herself. True, she knew she gave him no direct encouragement. Yet he
+was constantly with her, he had the right of taking care of her, he let
+her see daily what a pleasure it was, and she was not able to turn it
+into the reverse of pleasure. She could not repulse him, unless he
+pushed his advances beyond a certain point; and Lawrence was clever
+enough to see that he had better not do that. He took things for
+granted a little, in a way that annoyed Dolly. She knew she gave him no
+proper encouragement; nevertheless, the things she could not forbid
+might seem to weave a tacit claim by and by. She wished for her father
+on her own account. But when she thought of what was keeping him,
+Dolly's head went down in agony. "O father, father!" she cried in the
+depths of her heart, "why don't you come? how can you let us ask in
+vain? and what dreadful, dreadful entanglement it must be that has such
+power over you to make you do things so unlike yourself! Oh, what shall
+I do? what shall I do? I cannot reach him now&mdash;only by letters."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Copley got up next morning in renewed spirits. "Dolly," she
+inquired while she was dressing, in which business Dolly always helped
+her,&mdash;"is anything settled between St. Leger and you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Settled, mother? He is father's secretary,&mdash;at least so he calls
+himself,&mdash;taking care of us in father's absence. There is nothing else
+settled, nor to be settled."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You know why he is here, child."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Because father isn't, mother; and I should like to make the exchange
+as quickly as possible."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What's the matter with him, Dolly?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The principal thing is, he won't take a hint."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, no; I mean, what fault do you find in him?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That, mother. Nothing else."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He worships the ground you tread on."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mother, I think that is a pity. Don't you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think you ought to be very glad of it. I am. Dolly, the St. Legers
+are <I>very</I> well off; he is rich, and his father is rich; and there is
+that beautiful place, and position, and everything you could desire."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Position!" Dolly repeated. "Mother, I think I make my own position. At
+any rate, I like it better than his."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"O Dolly! the St. Legers"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They are not anything particular, mother. Rich bankers; that is all."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And isn't that enough?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, no," said Dolly, laughing. "It would take a good deal more to
+tempt me away from you and father."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But, child, you've got to go. And Mr. St. Leger is as fond of you as
+ever he can be."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He will not break his heart, mother. He is not that sort. Don't think
+it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't care if he did!" said Mrs. Copley, half crying. "It is not
+<I>him</I> I am thinking of; it is you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Thank you, mother," said Dolly, putting her arms round her mother's
+neck and kissing her repeatedly. "But I am not going to leave you for
+any such person. And I don't think so much of money as you do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dolly, Dolly, money is a good thing."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is not enough of it in the world to buy me, mother. Don't try to
+fix my price."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The rest of that day Dolly was gay. Whether from the reaction of
+spirits natural to seventeen, or whether she were lightened in heart by
+the explicitness of her talk with her mother in the morning, she was
+the life of the day's journey. The road itself mended; the landscape
+was often noble, with fine oak and beech woods, and lovely in its rich
+cultivation; meadows and ploughed fields and tracts of young grain and
+smiling villages alternating with one another. There was no tedium in
+the carriage from morning to night. St. Leger and Rupert laughed at
+Dolly, and with her; and Mrs. Copley, in spite of chewing the cud of
+mortification at Dolly's impracticableness, was beguiled into
+forgetting herself. Sometimes this happy effect could be managed; at
+other times it was impossible. But more days followed, not so gay.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm as tired as I can be!" was Mrs. Copley's declaration, as they were
+approaching Leipzig.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We'll soon get to our hotel now," said Lawrence soothingly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'Tain't that," said Mrs. Copley; "I am tired of hotels too. I am
+tired of going from one place to another. I should like to stay still
+somewhere."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But it is doing you good, mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't see it," said Mrs. Copley. "And what do you mean by its doing
+me good, Dolly? What is good that you don't feel? It's like something
+handsome that you can't see; and if you call that good, I don't. I
+wonder if life's to everybody what it is to me!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not exactly," said Lawrence. "Not everybody can go where he likes and
+do what he will, and have such an attendant handmaiden everywhere."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do what I will!" cried Mrs. Copley, who like other dissatisfied people
+did not like to have her case proved against her,&mdash;"much you know about
+it, Mr. St. Leger! If I had my will, I would go back to America."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you would have to do without your handmaiden," said Lawrence.
+"You do not think that we on this side are so careless of our own
+advantage as to let such a valuable article go out of the country?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was said with just such a mixture of jest and earnest that Dolly
+could hardly take it up. The words soothed Mrs. Copley, though her
+answer hardly sounded so.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose that is what mothers have to make up their minds to," she
+said. "Just when their children are ready to be some comfort to them,
+off they go, to begin the same game on their own account. I sometimes
+wonder whether it is worth while to live at all!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But one can't help that," said Rupert.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't see what it amounts to."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mother, think of the Dresden Green vaults," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I do," said Mrs. Copley. "That keeps me up. But when I have seen
+them, Dolly, what will keep me up then?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, Venice, mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And suppose I don't like Venice? I sometimes think I shan't."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then we will not stay there, dear. We will go on to Sorrento."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"After all, Dolly, one can't keep always going somewhere. One must come
+to a stop."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The best way is not to think of that till one is obliged to do it,"
+said Lawrence. "Enjoy while you have to enjoy."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That ain't a very safe maxim, seems to me," said Rupert. "One's rope
+might get twisted up."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is the maxim of a great many wise men," said Lawrence, ignoring the
+figure.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is it wise?" said Dolly. "Would you spend your money so, like your
+time? spend to the last farthing, before you made any provision for
+what was to be next?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, for I need not. In money matters one can always take care to have
+means ahead."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So you can in the other thing."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How?" said Rupert, and "How?" said Lawrence, in the same breath. "You
+cannot always, as Mrs. Copley said, go on finding new places to go to
+and new things to see."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'd have what would put me above the need of that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What? Philosophy? Stoicism?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said Dolly softly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Have you discovered the philosopher's stone?" said Lawrence; "and can
+you turn common things into gold for your purposes?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes," said Dolly in the same way.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Let us hear how, won't you? Is it books, or writing, or art perhaps?
+You are very fond of that, I know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said Dolly slowly; "and I cannot show it to you, either, Mr. St.
+Leger. It is like the golden water in the story in the Arabian Nights,
+which was at the top of a hill, and people went up the hill to get it;
+but on the way so many strange voices sounded in their ears that they
+were tempted to look round; and if they looked round they were turned
+to stone. So the way was marked with stones."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And nobody got the golden water?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes. At last one went up, who being forewarned, stopped her ears and
+never looked round. She got to the top and found the golden water. We
+in these times give it another name. It is the water of life."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What <I>are</I> you talking about, Dolly?" said her mother.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Must one go up the hill with one's ears stopped <I>now</I>, to get the
+wonderful water?" Lawrence asked. Dolly nodded.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And when you have got it&mdash;what then?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you have got it," said Dolly. "It is the water of life. And you
+have done with this dry wilderness that mother is complaining of, and
+you are recommending."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lawrence stroked and pulled his moustache, as he might have done if a
+lady had spoken to him in polite Sanscrit. Rupert looked gravely out of
+the carriage window. Neither answered, and nobody spoke another word,
+till Mrs. Copley exclaimed, "There's Leipzig!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Looks sort o' peaceful now," remarked Rupert.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Peaceful? Why, ain't the place quiet?" Mrs. Copley asked anxiously.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Quiet enough," said Lawrence; "but there was a time, not so long ago,
+when it wasn't exactly so."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"When was that?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"When all the uniforms of Europe were chasing through it," said Dolly;
+"some chased and some chasing; when the country was covered with
+armies; when a half a million of men or so fought a long battle here,
+and the suburbs of Leipzig were full of dead and wounded and sick and
+starving; there was not much peace then in or out of the city; though
+there was some rejoicing."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh," said Mrs. Copley, "you mean"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"When Napoleon was beaten here, mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"War's a mean thing!" said Rupert.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's not precisely the view civilised peoples take of it," said
+Lawrence with a slight sneer.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"True, though," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mean?" said Lawrence. "Do you think it was a mean thing for Germany to
+rise up and cast out the power that had been oppressing her? or for the
+other powers of Europe to help?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No; but very mean for the side that had given the occasion."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's as you look at it," said Lawrence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, but how God looks at it. You cannot possibly think," said Dolly
+slowly, going back to her old childish expression,&mdash;"that He likes it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lawrence could not help smiling at this very original view. "Very few
+people that make war ask that question," he said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"God will ask them, though," said Dolly, "why they did not. I think few
+people ask that question, Mr. St. Leger, about anything."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is not usual, except for a little saint here and there like you,"
+he allowed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And yet it is the only question. There is nothing else to be asked
+about a matter; almost nothing else. If that is settled, it is all
+settled."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If we were only all saints," Lawrence put in.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why are not we?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know. I suppose everybody is not cut out for such a vocation."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Everybody ought to be a saint."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you mean that?" cried Rupert. "I thought,&mdash;I mean, I thought it was
+a special gift."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes," said Dolly with a smile at him; "but God gives it to every one
+that wants it. And when the King comes, Mr. St. Leger, He will gather
+His saints to Him, and none others; don't yon want to be counted among
+them then?&mdash;I do!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+I don't know what had wrought up Dolly to this sudden burst; but she
+dropped her veil upon eyes all alight, while some soft dripping tears
+were falling from them like diamonds. Every one knows the peculiar
+brilliancy of a sunlit shower; and the two young men remained fairly
+dazzled. Rupert, however, looked very grave, while the other wore a
+cloud on his brow.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly was as matter-of-fact as possible when she came out from under
+her veil again; and declared she should not go to a hotel in Dresden,
+but take a lodging.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why?" Lawrence enquired.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Cheaper. And pleasanter. And much quieter. We shall probably have to
+stay several days in Dresden. We must get letters there."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But you do not know where to go to find lodgings."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, I do. Or I shall. I hope so. I have sent for the address of the
+woman with whom Lady Brierley had lodgings a whole winter."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where do you expect to receive this address?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In Leipzig, I hope."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Really, Dolly, you take a good deal upon you, considering how old you
+are," said her mother. "Don't you think Mr. St. Leger knows best?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, mother, not for you and me. Oh, <I>he</I> can go to a hotel. He will,
+of course."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+However, this Mr. St. Leger did not desire. He was obliged to do it,
+nevertheless. The letter was found at Leipzig, the lodgings were found
+in Dresden, but not roomy enough to hold them all. Mrs. Copley and her
+daughter and their attendant Rupert were very comfortably accommodated;
+and to Dolly's great joy found themselves alone. Frau Wetterhahn was
+all obligingness, hearing Lady Brierley's name, and made them right
+welcome. This Frau Wetterhahn! She was the most lively, active,
+capable, talkative, bright-eyed, good-humoured, free and easy little
+woman that you can imagine. She was really capable, and cooked them a
+nice supper. Dolly had unpacked a few things, and felt herself at home,
+and the three sat down comfortably to their meal.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now, mother, dear," said Dolly, "this is pleasant!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well," said Mrs. Copley, "I think it is. If you only hadn't sent
+Lawrence away!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He couldn't stay, mother. Frau Wetterhahn sent him away&mdash;not I. Change
+will be good for him. And for me too. I am going to make believe we are
+at home for a little while. And you are going to see the Green vaults;
+and I am going to see everything. And these rooms are so cosy!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Aren't you going to see the Green vaults too?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Indeed, I hope so. But we may have to wait a day or two, dear mother;
+that will be good, and you can have a rest."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm sure I'm glad of it," said Mrs. Copley. "I am just tired of
+riding, and more tired yet of seeing everlasting new things. I am
+aching for something I've seen before in my life."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, here's a cup of coffee, mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Copley tasted.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you think <I>that's</I> like anything I used to have at home, I'm sorry
+for you!" she said with a reproachful look.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't you like it? I do. I like it because it is different. But I
+think it is very good, mother. And look&mdash;here is some delicious bread."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's like no bread I ever saw till I came to Germany. Oh, mercy! why
+must folks have so many ways? I wonder how things will be at Venice!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Stranger than ever, mother, I'm afraid."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then I shall get tired of it. Isn't this a very roundabout way that we
+are going to Venice&mdash;round this way by Dresden?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, yes, mother, of course; but the Green vaults are here, and you
+were bound to see the Green vaults."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wouldn't have come, if I had known it was so far," said Mrs. Copley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+But she relished her supper, and was not nervous, and slept well; and
+Dolly was somewhat in hopes that Dresden was not a bad move after all.
+They had to wait, as she said, for letters, and for the sight of the
+glories that had attracted them hither. Several days passed by.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They passed in delights, for Dolly. Two mornings were spent in the
+great picture gallery. Mrs. Copley's desires and expectations having
+focussed upon the Green vaults, were hardly able to see anything else
+clearly; indeed, she declared that she did not think the wonderful
+Madonna was so very wonderful after all; no woman could stand upon
+clouds in that way, and as she <I>was</I> a woman, she did not see why the
+painter did not exhibit her in a possible situation; and those little
+angels at the foot of the picture&mdash;where was the other half of them
+supposed to be? she did not like half of anything. But Dolly dreamed in
+rapture, before this and many another wonder of art. Mrs. Copley made
+processions round the rooms constantly, drawing, of course, St. Leger
+with her; she could not be still. But Dolly would stop before a picture
+and be immoveable for half an hour, drinking in pleasure and feeding
+upon knowledge; and Rupert generally took post behind her and acted as
+body-guard. What he made of the show, I do not know. Dolly asked him
+how he liked it? He said, "first-rate."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, what do you think of it, Rupert?" Dolly asked gaily.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I guess I don't just see into it," was the dubious answer. "If
+these are likenesses of folks, they ain't like my folks."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, but they are not likenesses; most of them are not."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What are they, then? and what is the good of 'em, if they don't mean
+anything?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They are out of people's imagination; as the painter imagined such and
+such persons might have looked, in such situations."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How the painter imagined they might have looked!" cried Rupert.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes. And they mean a great deal; all that was in the painter's mind."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't care a red cent how a man fancies somebody looked. I'd like
+the real thing, if I could get it. I'd go some ways to see how the
+mother of Christ <I>did</I> look; but you say that ain't it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said Dolly, smiling.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Rupert surveyed the great picture again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't you think it is beautiful, Rupert?" Dolly pursued, curious to
+know what went on in his thoughts.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I've seen as handsome faces&mdash;and handsomer," he said slowly; "and I
+like flesh and blood a long sight better than a painting, anyhow."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Handsome?" said Dolly. "Oh, it is not <I>that</I>&mdash;it is so much more!"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What is it, Miss Dolly?" said Lawrence, just then coming up behind
+her. "I should like to hear your criticism. Do put it in words."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's not easy; and it is not criticism. But I'll tell you how it
+seems to me; as the painting, not of anybody's features, but of
+somebody's nature, spirit. It is a painting of the spiritual character."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mental traits can be expressed in words, though," said Lawrence.
+"You'll go on, I hope?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I cannot," said Dolly. "It is not the lovely face, Mr. Babbage; it is
+thought and feeling, love and purity, and majesty&mdash;but the majesty of a
+person who has no thought of herself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly could not get out of that one room; she sat before the Raphael,
+and then stood fixed before the "Notte" or the "Magdalene" of
+Correggio; and would not come away. Rupert always attended on her, and
+Mrs. Copley as regularly made progresses through the rooms on
+Lawrence's arm, till she declared herself tired out. They were much
+beholden to Lawrence and his good offices these days, more than they
+knew; for it was past the season when the gallery was open to the
+public, and entrance was obtained solely by the influence of St.
+Leger's mediation and money; how much of the latter they never knew.
+Lawrence was a very good escort also; his address was pleasant, and his
+knowledge of men and things sufficient for useful purposes; he knew in
+general what was what and who was who, and was never at a loss. Rupert
+followed the party like a faithful dog, ready for service and with no
+opportunity to show it; Lawrence held the post of leader and manager
+now, and filled it well. In matters of art, however, I am bound to say,
+though he could talk more, he knew as little as Rupert himself.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What is to be done to-morrow?" he asked, in the evening of that second
+day.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We haven't got our letters yet," said Mrs. Copley. "I can't see why
+they don't come."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So the Green vaults must wait. What else shall we do?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh," said Dolly, "might we not go to the gallery again?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Another day?" cried her mother. "Why, you have been there two whole
+mornings, child. Ain't that enough?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mother, I could go two months, I think."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you'd catch your death," said Mrs. Copley. "That inner room is
+very chill now. For my part, I do not want to see another picture again
+in days and days. My head swims with looking at them. I don't see what
+you find in the old things."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly could not have told. She sighed, and it was agreed that they
+would drive about the city and its environs next day; Lawrence assuring
+them that it was one of the pleasantest towns in Germany. But the next
+morning early came the letters from Mr. Copley; one to his wife and one
+to Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly read them both and pondered them; and was unsatisfied. They were
+rather cheerful letters; at the same time Mr. Copley informed his wife
+and daughter that he could not join them in Dresden; nor at any rate
+before they got to Venice. So much was final; but what puzzled and
+annoyed Dolly yet more than this delay was the amount of money he
+remitted to her. To her, for Mrs. Copley, as an invalid, it was agreed,
+should not be burdened with business. So the draft came in the letter
+to Dolly; and it was not half large enough. Dolly kept the draft, gave
+the letter to her mother to read, and sat in a mazed kind of state,
+trying to bring her wits to a focus upon this condition of affairs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+What was her father thinking of? It is one thing to be short of funds
+at home, in one's own country and in one's own house; it is bad enough
+even there; what is it when one is in a strange land and dependent upon
+the shelter of other people's houses, for which an equivalent must be
+paid in money? and when one is obliged to travel from one place to
+another, and every mile of the way demands another equivalent in money?
+Mr. Copley had sent a little, but Dolly knew it would by no means take
+them to Venice. What did he intend? or what did he expect her to do?
+Apply to Lawrence? Never! No, not under any pressure or combination
+that could be brought to bear. He would demand an equivalent too; or
+worse, think that it was guaranteed, if she made such an application.
+How could Mr. Copley place his child in such a predicament? And then
+Dolly's head went down in her hands, for the probable answer crushed
+her. He never would, he never could, but for yielding to unworthy
+indulgences; becoming entangled in low pleasures; taken possession of
+by the influence of unprincipled men. Her father!&mdash;Dolly felt as if her
+heart would break or her head burst with its burden of pain,&mdash;"Oh, a
+father never should let his child feel ashamed for him!" was the secret
+cry down in the depths of her heart. Dolly would not speak it out ever,
+even to herself, but it was there, all the same; and it tortured her,
+with a nameless, exquisite torture, under which she mentally writhed,
+without being able to get the least relief. Every surge of the old love
+and reverence broke on those sharp rocks of pain more hopelessly. "O
+father!&mdash;O father!" she cried silently, with a pitiful vain appeal
+which could never be heard.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And then the practical question came back, taking away her breath. What
+was she to do? If they did not stay too long in Dresden they would have
+enough money to pay their lodging-bill and go, she calculated, half the
+way to Venice. What then? And if Mr. Copley met them in Venice,
+according to promise, who would assure her that he would then come
+provided with the necessary funds? and what if he failed to come?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly started up, feeling that she could not sit any longer thinking
+about it; her nerves were getting into a hard knot. She would not
+think; she busied herself in making her mother and herself ready for
+their morning's excursion. And Lawrence came with a carriage; and they
+set off. It was a lovely day, and certainly the drive was all it had
+promised; and Dolly barred off thought, and <I>would</I> look and enjoy and
+talk and make others enjoy; so the first part of the day passed very
+well. Dolly would make no arrangements for the afternoon, and Mrs.
+Copley was able for no more that day.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+But when the early dinner was over, Dolly asked Rupert to walk with
+her. Rupert was always ready, and gave a delighted assent.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are you going out again? and to leave me all alone?" said Mrs. Copley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You will be lying down, mother dear; you will not want me; and I have
+business on hand, that I must attend to."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't see what business," said Mrs. Copley fretfully; "and you can't
+do anything here, in a strange place. You'd better get Mr. St. Leger to
+do it for you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He cannot do my work," said Dolly lightly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But you had better wait and take him along, Dolly. He knows where to
+go."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So do I, mother. I want Rupert this time, and not Mr. St. Leger. You
+sleep till I come back."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly had said she meant business, but at first going out things did
+not look like it. She went slowly and silently along the streets, not
+attending much to what she was passing, Rupert thought; till they
+arrived at an open spot from which the view of the river, with the
+bridge and parts of the town, could be enjoyed; and there Dolly sat
+down on a step, and still without speaking to Rupert, bent forward
+leaning on her knees, and seemed to give herself up to studying the
+beautiful scene. She saw it; the river, the picturesque bridge, the
+wavy, vine-clad hills, the unfamiliar buildings of the city, the villas
+scattered about on the banks of the Elbe; she saw it all under a clear
+heaven and a sunny light which dressed everything in hues of
+loveliness; and her face was fixed the while in lines of grave thought
+and gave back no reflection of the beauty. It had beauty enough of its
+own, Rupert thought; who, I must say, paid little heed to the landscape
+and watched his companion instead. The steady, intent, sweet eyes, how
+much grave womanliness was in them; how delicate the colour was on the
+cheek, and how tender were the curves of the lips; while the wilful,
+clustering curly hair gave an almost childish setting to the features
+whose expression was so very un-childish. For it was exceedingly grave.
+Dolly did see the lovely landscape, and it made her feel alone and
+helpless. There was nothing wonted or familiar; she seemed to herself
+somehow cast away in the Saxon capital. And truly she was all alone.
+Lawrence she could not apply to, her mother must not even be talked to;
+she knew nobody else. Her father had let her come on this journey, had
+sent her forth, and now left her unprovided even for the barest
+necessities. No doubt he meant that she should be beholden to Mr. St.
+Leger, to whom he could return the money by and by. "Or not at all,"
+thought Dolly bitterly, "if I would give him myself instead. O father,
+could you sell me!" Then came the thought of the entanglements and
+indulgences which had brought Mr. Copley to do other things so unlike
+himself; and Dolly's heart grew too full. She could not bear it; she
+had borne up and fought it out all the morning; now feeling and truth
+must have a minute for themselves; her head went down on her hands and
+she burst into quiet sobs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Quiet, but deep. Rupert, looking on in dismayed alarm, saw that this
+outbreak of pain had some deep grounded cause; right or wrong, it came
+from Dolly's very heart, and her whole nature was trembling. He was
+filled with a great awe; and in this awe his sympathy was silent for a
+time; but he could not leave the girl to herself too long.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Miss Dolly," he said in a pause of the sobs, "I thought you were such
+a Christian?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly started, lifted her quivering, tearful face, and looked straight
+at him. "Yes," she said,&mdash;"what then?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I always thought religious folks had something to comfort them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't think they haven't," said Dolly. But there she broke down again,
+and it was a storm of a rain shower that poured from her eyes this
+time. She struggled to get the better of it, and as soon as she could
+she sat up again, brushing the tears right and left with her hands and
+speaking in a voice still half choked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't think they haven't! If I had not <I>that</I>, my heart would just
+break and be done with it. But being a Christian does not keep one from
+suffering&mdash;sometimes." Her voice failed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What is the matter? No, I don't mean that you should tell me that;
+only&mdash;can't I do something?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, thank you; nobody can. Yes, you are doing a great deal, Rupert;
+you are the greatest comfort to me. I depend upon you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Rupert's eyes glistened. He was silent for sheer swelling of heart. He
+gulped down something&mdash;and went on presently.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I was thinkin' of something my old mother used to say. I know I've
+heard her say it, lots o' times. I don't know what the trouble is,
+that's a fact&mdash;so maybe I hadn't oughter speak; but <I>she</I> used to say
+that nothing could happen to Christians that would do 'em any real
+hurt."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I know," said Dolly, wondering to herself how it could be true; "the
+Bible says so."&mdash;And then conscience rebuked her. "And it <I>is</I> true,"
+she said, lifting up her head; "everything is true that the Bible says,
+and that is true; and it says other things"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What?" said Rupert; more for her sake, I confess, than for his own.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It says&mdash;'Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is staid
+upon Thee;' I was reading it this morning. You see I must be a very
+poor Christian, or I should not have doubted a minute. But even a
+Christian, and the best, must be sorry sometimes for things he cannot
+help," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you were not troubled about yourself just now?" said Rupert.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, I was! I was indeed, in spite of all those words and a great many
+others. I believe I forgot them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I should think, if God gives people promises, He would like them to be
+trusted," said Rupert "That's what <I>we</I> do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly looked at him again as if he had said something that struck her;
+and then she got up, and taking his arm, set off this time at a
+business pace. She knew, she said, where to find what she wanted;
+however, she had gone out of her way, and it cost her some trouble and
+time to get to the place. It was a store of artists' materials, among
+other things; and here Dolly made careful purchases of paper, colours,
+and camel's-hair pencils. Rupert was reassured as to a suspicion that
+had crossed him, that part of Dolly's trouble might have been caused by
+want of means; seeing that she was buying articles of amusement with a
+free hand. Then Dolly went straight home.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+All the rest of that afternoon she sat drawing. The next two days, the
+weather was unfavourable for going out, and she sat at her work
+persistently, whenever she was not obliged to be reading to her mother
+or attending upon her. The day following the long-planned visit to the
+Green vaults was made. In the evening Lawrence came to see them.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, Mrs. Copley; tired?"&mdash;he began.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know which part of me's most tired," said the lady; "my eyes,
+or my head, or my feet."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did it pay, after all?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Pay! I wouldn't have missed it for a year's length of life! It went
+ahead of all I ever thought of or dreamt of. It was most like Aladdin's
+lamp&mdash;or what he saw, I mean, when he went down into fairyland. I
+declare, it was just as good."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Only that you could not put things in your pockets. What would you
+have brought, Mrs. Copley, if it had been safe and allowable? The
+famous egg?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mercy, no, Mr. St. Leger! I shouldn't have a minute's peace of my
+life, for fear I should lose it again."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's about how they say the first owner felt. They tell of him, that
+a lady once coaxed him to let her have the egg in her hand; and she
+kept it in her hand; and the prince forgot; and she drove back to
+Dresden with it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where was he, the prince?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"At some hunting castle, I believe. It was night before he found out
+his loss; and then he booted and spurred in hot haste and rode to
+Dresden in the middle of the night to fetch the egg from the lady
+again."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What's the use of things that give folks so much trouble?" said Rupert.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A matter of taste!" said Lawrence, shrugging his shoulders. "But I am
+glad to have been through those rooms myself; and I never should, but
+for you, Mrs. Copley. I suppose there is hardly the like to be seen
+anywhere else."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What delicious things there were in the ivory room," said Dolly.
+"Those drunken musicians, mother, of Albert Dürer; and some of the
+vases; how beautiful they were!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I did not see the musicians," said Mrs. Copley. "I don't see how
+drunken musicians, or drunken anything, could be pretty. Odd taste, I
+think."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then perhaps you didn't like the piece with the fallen angels?" said
+Rupert. "That beat me!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How could there be peace with the fallen angels?" Mrs. Copley asked
+scornfully. At which, however, there was a great burst of laughter. "I
+liked best of all the room where the egg was, I believe. But the silver
+room was magnificent."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I liked the ivory better than the silver, mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who does it all belong to?" Rupert asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The reigning house of Saxony," Lawrence answered.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The whole of it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And that big picture gallery into the bargain?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's bein' grasping, for any one family to have so much," was
+Rupert's conclusion.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, you see," said Lawrence, "we get the good of it, and they have
+the care."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't see how we get the good of it," said Mrs. Copley. "I suppose
+if I had one of those golden birds, now, with the eyes of diamonds; or
+one of those wonderfully chased silver caskets; I should have enough to
+keep me in comfort the rest of my life. <I>I</I> think things are queer,
+somehow. One single one of those jewels that lie heaped up there, and I
+should want for nothing more in this world. And there they lie and
+nobody has 'em."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you want for anything now, mother dear?" asked Dolly. She was busy
+at a side table, arranging something in a little frame, and did not
+look up from her work.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I should think I did!" was Mrs. Copley's rejoinder. "What don't I
+want, from breath up?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Here you have had one wish fulfilled to-day&mdash;you have seen the Green
+vaults&mdash;and now we are going to Venice to fulfil another wish&mdash;what
+would you have?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't like to think I am going away from here. I like Dresden best
+of all the places we've been in. And I would like to go through the
+Green vaults&mdash;but why they are called so, I cannot conceive&mdash;about once
+every month. I would <I>never</I> get tired."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So you would like to settle in Dresden?" said Lawrence. "I don't think
+it would be safe to let you go through the Green vaults often, Mrs.
+Copley; you would certainly be tempted too much for your principles.
+Miss Dolly, we had better get her away. When <I>do</I> we go, by the by?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Instead of answering, Dolly rose up and brought him something to look
+at; a plain little oval frame of black wood within which was a head in
+light water colours.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mrs. Copley!" exclaimed Lawrence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is it like?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Striking! capital. I'm not much of a judge of painting in general, but
+I know a friend's face when I see it; and this is to the life. To the
+life! Graceful, too. Where did you get it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I got the paper and the paints at a little shop in&mdash;I forget the name
+of the <I>strasse;</I>&mdash;and mother was here to my hand. Ecco!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You <I>don't</I> mean you did it?" said Lawrence, while the others crowded
+near to look.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I used to amuse myself with that kind of thing when I was at school,
+and I had always a knack at catching likenesses. I am going to try you,
+Rupert, next."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah, try me!" cried Lawrence. "Will you? and we will stay in Dresden
+till it is done."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Suppose I succeed," said Dolly softly,&mdash;"will you get me orders?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Orders?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes. To paint likenesses, like this, in miniature. I can take ivory,
+but I would not waste ivory on this one. I'll do yours on ivory if you
+like."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But <I>orders?</I>" said Lawrence, dumbfounded.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes," said Dolly, nodding, "orders; and for as high pay as you think I
+can properly ask. Hush! say nothing to mother"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is that like me?" Mrs. Copley asked, after studying the little picture.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Capitally like you!" Lawrence cried.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then I've changed more'n I thought I had, that's all. I don't think I
+care about your painting me any more, Dolly, if that's the best you can
+do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, Mrs. Copley," said Lawrence, "it's beautiful. Exactly your turn
+of the head, and the delicate fresh colour in your cheeks. It's
+perfect!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is it?" said Mrs. Copley in a modified tone. "So that's what you've
+been fussing about, Dolly, these two days. Well, take Mr. St. Leger
+next. I want to see what you'll make of him. She won't flatter you,"
+the lady went on; "that's one thing you may lay your account with; she
+won't flatter you. But if we're going away, you won't have much chance;
+and, seems to me, we had better settle which way we are going."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lawrence did not take up this hint. He sat gazing at the little
+miniature, which was in its way very lovely. The colours were lightly
+laid in, the whole was rather sketchy; but the grace of the delineation
+was remarkable, and the likeness was perfect; and Dolly had shown a
+true artist's eye in her choice of position and point of view.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I did not know you had such a wonderful talent," he remarked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly made no answer.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You'll do me next?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you like my conditions."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not understand them," he said, looking up at her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I want orders," Dolly said almost in a whisper.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Orders? To paint things like this? For money? Nonsense, Dolly!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"As you please, Mr. St. Leger; then I will stay here a while and get
+work through Frau Wetterhahn. She wants me to paint <I>her</I>."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You never will!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll try."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"As a favour then?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly lifted her eyes and smiled at the young man; a smile that utterly
+and wholly bewitched him. Wilful? yes, he thought it was wilful, but
+sweet and arch, and bright with hope and purpose and conscious
+independence; a little defiant, a great deal glad.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Paint me," said he hastily, "and I'll give you anything you like."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly nodded. "Very well," said she; "then you may talk with mother
+about our route."
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap20"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XX.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+LIMBURG.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Lawrence did talk with Mrs. Copley; and the result of the discussion
+was that the decision and management of their movements was finally
+made over to him. Whether it happened by design or not, the good lady's
+head was quite confused among the different plans suggested; she could
+understand nothing of it, she said; and so it all fell into Lawrence's
+hand. I think that was what he wanted, and that he had views of his own
+to gratify; for Dolly, who had been engaged with other matters this
+time, expressed some surprise a day or two after they set out, at
+finding herself again in Weimar.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Going back the way we came?" she cried.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Only for a little distance&mdash;a few stages," explained Lawrence; "after
+that it will be all new."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly did not much care, nor know enough to correct him if he was going
+wrong; she gave herself up to hopeful enjoyment of the constantly
+varying new scenes and sights. Mrs. Copley, on the contrary, seemed
+able to enjoy nothing beyond the shortening of the distance between her
+and Venice. If she had known how much longer than was necessary
+Lawrence had made it!
+</P>
+
+<P>
+So it happened that they were going one day down a pleasant road which
+led along a river valley, when an exclamation from Dolly roused her
+mother out of a half nap. "What is it?" she asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mother, such a beautiful, beautiful old church! Look&mdash;see how it sits
+up there grandly on the rock."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very inconvenient, I should think," said Mrs. Copley, giving a glance
+out of the carriage window. "I shouldn't think people would like to
+mount up there often."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I believe," said Lawrence, also looking out now, "that must be a
+famous old church&mdash;isn't this Limburg?&mdash;yes. It is the cathedral at
+Limburg; a very fine specimen of its style, Miss Dolly, they say."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What is the style? it's beautiful! Gothic?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No,&mdash;aw&mdash;not exactly. I'm not learned myself, really, in such matters.
+I hardly know a good thing when I see it&mdash;never studied antiquities,
+you know; but this is said, I know, to be a very good thing."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How old? It does not look antiquated."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, it has been repaired and restored. But it is not Gothic, so it
+dates further back; what they call the Transition style."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is very noble," said Dolly. "Is it as good inside as outside?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't know, I declare; I suppose so. We might go in and see; let the
+horses feed and Mrs. Copley take a rest."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+This proposition was received with such joy by Dolly that it was at
+once acted upon. The party sought out an inn, bespoke some luncheon,
+and arranged for Mrs. Copley's repose. But chancing to hear from
+Lawrence that the treasures of art and value in the church repositories
+were both rich and rare, she gave up the promised nap and joined the
+party who went to the dome. After the Dresden Green vaults, she said,
+she supposed nothing new could be found; but she would go and see. So
+they went all together. If Lawrence had guessed to what this chance
+visit would lead! But that is precisely what people can never know.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly was in a condition of growing delight, which every step
+increased. Before the great front of the cathedral she stood still and
+looked up, while Rupert and Mrs. Copley turned their backs and gazed
+out upon the wide country view. Lawrence, as usual when he could,
+attended upon Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I did not know you were so fond of <I>this</I> kind of thing," he remarked,
+seeing a little enviously her bright, interested eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It lifts me almost off my feet!" said Dolly. "My soul don't seem big
+enough to take it all in. How grand, how grand!&mdash;Whose statues are
+those?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"On each side?" said Lawrence, who had been collecting information.
+"That on the one hand is Heinrich von Isenburg, the founder; and the
+other is the architect, but nobody knows his name. It is lost. St.
+George is on the top there."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well," said Dolly, "he is just as well off as if it hadn't been lost!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who? the architect? How do you make that out? He loses all the glory."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How does he lose it? Do you think," said Dolly, smiling, "he would
+care, in the other world, to know that you and I liked his work?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The other world!" said St. Leger.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You believe in it, don't you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, certainly; but you speak as if"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"As if I believed in it!" said Dolly merrily. "You speak as if you
+didn't."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do, I assure you; but what is fame then?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nothing at all," said Dolly.&mdash;"Just nothing at all; if you mean
+people's admiration or applause given when we have gone beyond reach of
+it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Beyond reach of it!" said Lawrence, echoing her words again. "Miss
+Dolly, do you think it is no use to have one's name honoured by all the
+world for ages after we have lived?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very good for the world," said Dolly, with a spice of amusement
+visible again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And nothing to the man?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What should it be to the man?" said Dolly, seriously enough now. "Mr.
+St. Leger, when a man has got beyond this world with its little cares
+and interests, there will be just one question for him,&mdash;whether he has
+done what God put him here to do; and there will be just one word of
+praise that he will care about,&mdash;the 'Well done!'&mdash;if he may have
+it,&mdash;from those lips."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly began quietly, but her colour flushed and her lip trembled as she
+went on, and her eye sparkled through a sudden veil of tears. Lawrence
+was silenced by admiration, and almost forgot what they were talking
+about.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But don't you think," he began again, as Dolly moved towards the
+church door, "that the one thing&mdash;I mean, the praise here,&mdash;will be a
+sort of guaranty for the praise there?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said Dolly. "That which is highly esteemed among men is
+abomination in the sight of God&mdash;often, often." She pushed open the
+door and went in. Only a little way in; there she stood still, arrested
+by all the glory and the beauty that met her eye. The nobleness of
+form, the wealth of colour, the multiplied richness of both, almost
+bewildered her at first entering. Pillars, arches, vaultings, niches,
+galleries, arcades&mdash;a wilderness of harmonised form; and every panel
+and fair space filled with painting. She could not see details yet; she
+was lost in the greatness of the whole.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Whom has Mrs. Copley picked up?" asked Lawrence in an undertone. After
+all, if the architect's posthumous fame had depended on him, it would
+not have been worth much effort. Mrs. Copley, it may be mentioned, had
+passed on while Dolly and St. Leger had stood talking outside; and now
+she was seen in the distance the centre of a group of lively talkers;
+at least there was one lady who was free to exercise her gifts in that
+way. Lawrence and Dolly slowly advanced, even Dolly's attention taken
+for a moment from the church by this extraordinary combination. Yes,
+Mrs. Copley had found acquaintances. The talker was a lady of about her
+own age; a gentleman stood near, a little behind was a younger lady,
+while Rupert balanced the group on the other side.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There's something uncommon over yonder," whispered Lawrence. "Do you
+see that blond girl? not blond neither, for her hair isn't; but what an
+exquisite colour!&mdash;and magnificent figure. Do you know her?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said Dolly,&mdash;"I think not. Yet I do. Who can it be? I do not know
+the one talking to mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And this is she?" the elder lady was saying as Dolly now came up,
+looking at her with a smiling face. "It's quite delightful to meet
+friends in the midst of a wilderness so; like the print of a man's foot
+on the sands in a desert; for really, in the midst of strange people
+one feels cast away. She's handsomer than you were, Mrs. Copley. My
+dear, do you know your old schoolfellow?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Christina Thayer!" exclaimed Dolly, as the other young lady came
+forward; and there was a joyful recognition on both sides.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who is your friend?" Mrs. Thayer next went on. "Won't you introduce
+him?&mdash;St. Leger? Don't I know your father? Ernest Singleton St.
+Leger?&mdash;Yes! Why, he was a great beau of mine once, a good while ago,
+you know," she added, nodding. "You might not think it, but he was. Oh,
+I know him very well; I know him like a book. You must be my friend.
+Christina, this is Mr. St. Leger; my old friend's son.&mdash;Mr. Thayer."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Thayer was nothing remarkable. But Christina had fulfilled the
+promise of her girlhood, and developed into a magnificent beauty. Her
+skin showed the richest, clear, creamy white tints, upon which in her
+cheeks and lips the carmine lay like rose leaves. Her hair was light
+brown and abundant, features regular, eyes sweet; she was one of those
+fair, full, stately, placid Saxon types of beauty, which are not very
+common in America and remarkable anywhere. Her figure was roundly and
+finely developed, rather stately and slow moving; which characteristic
+harmonised with all the rest of her. The two girls were as unlike each
+other as possible. It amused and half fascinated Lawrence to watch the
+contrast. It seemed to be noon of a summer day in the soul of
+Christina, a still breadth of light without shadow; there was a murmur
+of content in her voice when she spoke, and a ripple of content in her
+laugh when she laughed. But the light quivered on Dolly's lip, and
+gleamed and sparkled in her brown eyes, and light and shadow could flit
+over her face with quick change; they did so now.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Meanwhile people had forgotten the old cathedral. Christina seemed
+unaffectedly glad at the meeting with her friend of the school days.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm so delighted," she said, drawing Dolly a little apart. "Where are
+you? where do you come from, I mean? How come you to be here?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We come from Dresden; we are on our way"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are living in London, aren't you? I heard that. It's too good to
+meet you so! for Europe is full of people, no doubt, but there are very
+few that I care for. Oh, tell me where you are going?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Venice first."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And further south? you are going on into Italy?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, I think so."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's delightful. Oh, there's nothing like Italy! It is not your
+wedding journey, Dolly?"&mdash;with a glance at the very handsome young man
+who was standing in waiting a few paces off.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What are you thinking of!" cried Dolly. "Christina, we are travelling
+for mother's health."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, well, I didn't suppose it; but it might be, you know; it will be,
+before you know it. It isn't <I>mine</I>, either; though it only wants two
+things of it. Oh, I want to tell you all about myself, Dolly, and I
+want to show you somebody; I have got somebody to show, you see. You
+will come and make us a visit, will you not? Oh, you must! I must have
+you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You said it wanted only <I>two things</I> of being your wedding journey?
+What things?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The presence of the gentleman, and the performance of the ceremony."
+And as Christina said it, a delicate peach-blossom bloom ripened in her
+cheeks; you could hardly say that she blushed. "Oh, the gentleman is
+somewhere, though he is not here," she went on, with that ripple of
+laughter; "and the ceremony is somewhere in the distance, too. I want
+you to see him, Dolly. I am proud of him. I think everything in the
+world of him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose I may know his name?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Christina," cried Mrs. Thayer, "where are you? My dear, we cannot
+stand here and talk all the afternoon; our friends have got to see the
+church. Isn't it a delicious old place? Just go round and examine
+things; I could stay here for ever. Every little place where there is
+room for it is filled with the quaintest, queerest, charmingest
+paintings. Where there is room for it, there is a group; and where
+there is not a group, there is an apostle or a saint; and where there
+is not room for that, there is something else, which this
+unintelligible old guide will explain to you. And think&mdash;for years and
+years it has held the richest collection&mdash;oh, just wait and see! it is
+better than the church itself. My dear, the riches of its treasures are
+incalculable. Fancy, a mitre, a bishop's mitre, you know, so heavy with
+precious stones that the good man cannot bear it on his head but a few
+minutes; over three thousand pearls and precious stones in it; and the
+work, oh, the work of it is wonderful! just in the finest
+Renaissance"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We have just come from the Green vaults at Dresden," put in Mrs.
+Copley. "I suppose that goes ahead of everything else."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, my dear, I don't know; I don't see how anything can be superior to
+the show here. Is Mr. St. Leger fond of art?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Fonder of nature," Mr. St. Leger confesses with a bow.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nature,&mdash;well, come to see us at Naples. We have got a villa not far
+from there&mdash;you'll <I>all</I> come and stay with us. Oh, we cannot let you
+off; it is such a thing to meet with one's own people from home. You
+will certainly want to see us, and we shall want to see you. Venice, oh
+yes, after you have seen Venice, and then we shall be at home again; we
+just set off on this journey to use up the time until the 'Red Chief'
+could come to Naples. We are going back soon, and we'll be all ready to
+welcome you. And Mr. St. Leger, of course. Mr. St. Leger, I could tell
+you a great deal about your father. He and I flirted dreadfully once;
+and, you know, if flirting is <I>properly</I> carried on, one always has a
+little sneaking kindness for the people one has flirted with."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No more than that?" said St. Leger with a polite smile.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, what would you have? after one has grown old, you know. You would
+not have me in love with him! Here is my husband and my daughter. Don't
+you have a kindness for the people you flirt with?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I must not say anything against flirting, in the present company"&mdash;&mdash;
+Lawrence began.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, of course you mustn't. We all flirt, at a certain age. How are
+young people to get acquainted with one another and find out what they
+would like? You never buy cheese without tasting it, you know, not in
+England. Just as well call things by their right names. I don't think
+anybody ought to deny flirting; it's nature; we must do it. Christina
+flirts, I know, in the most innocent way, with everybody; not as I did;
+she has her own style; and your daughter does it too, Mrs. Copley. I
+can see it in her eyes. Ah me, I wish I was young again! And what a
+place to flirt in such an old church is!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"O mamma!" came from Christina.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very queer taste, I should say," remarked Mrs. Copley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It isn't taste; it is combination of circumstances," Mrs. Thayer,
+smiling, went on. "You see if I don't say true. My dear, such a place
+as this is full of romance, full! Just think of the people that have
+been married here; why, the first church was built here in 814; imagine
+that!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Enough to keep one from flirting for ever," said Dolly, on whom the
+lady's eye fell as she ended her sentence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Just go in and see those jewels and hear the stories," said Mrs.
+Thayer, nodding at her. "That old woman will tell you stories enough,
+if you can understand her; Christina had to translate for me; but, my
+dear, there's a story there fit to break your heart; about a blood
+jasper. It is carved; Mr. Thayer says the carving is very fine, and I
+suppose it is; but all I thought of was the story. My dear, the stone
+is all spotted with dark stains, and they are said to be the stains of
+heart's blood. Oh, it is as tragical as can be. You see, the carver, or
+stone-cutter,&mdash;the young man who did the work,&mdash;loved his master's
+daughter&mdash;it's a very romantic story&mdash;and she"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Flirted?" suggested St. Leger.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I am afraid she did; but it is the old course of things; her
+father thought she might look higher, you know, and she <I>did;</I> married
+the richest nobleman in Verona; and the young man had been promised her
+if he did his work well, and the work is magnificently done; but he was
+cheated; and he drove a sharp little knife into his heart. Christina,
+what was the old master's name?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I forget, mamma."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You ought not to forget; you will want to tell the story. Of course
+<I>I</I> have forgotten; I did not understand it at the time, and I never
+remember anything besides; but he was very famous, and everybody wanted
+the things he did, and he could not execute all the commissions he got;
+and this young man was his best favourite pupil."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How came the stains upon the stone?" asked Lawrence. "Did it bleed for
+sympathy?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know; I have forgotten. Oh yes! the stone was in his hand, you
+know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And it was sympathy?" said Lawrence quite gravely, though Dolly could
+not keep her lips in order.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, it was the blood. Go in and you'll see it, and all the rest. And
+there&mdash;&mdash; Where are you going? to Venice? We are going on to Cologne
+and then back to Rome. We shall meet in Rome? You will stay in Venice
+for a few weeks, and then be in Rome about Christmas; and then we will
+make arrangements for a visit from you all. Oh yes, we must have you
+all."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lawrence accompanied the lady to the door, and Christina following with
+Dolly earnestly begged for the meeting in Rome, and that Dolly would
+spend Christmas with her. "I have so much to tell you," she said; "and
+my&mdash;the gentleman I spoke of&mdash;will meet us in Rome; and he will spend
+Christmas with us; and I want you to see him. I admire Mr. St. Leger,
+very much!" she added in a confidential whisper.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mr. St. Leger is nothing to me," said Dolly steadily, looking in her
+friend's face. "He is father's secretary, and is taking care of us till
+my father can come."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, well, if he is not anything to you <I>now</I>, perhaps&mdash;you never know
+what will be," said Christina. "He is very handsome! Don't you like
+him? I long to know how you will like&mdash;Mr. Rayner."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who is he?" said Dolly, by way of saying something.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Didn't I tell yon? He is first officer on board the 'Red Chief,' one
+of our finest vessels of war; it is in the Mediterranean now; and we
+expect him to come to us at Christmas. Manage to be at Rome then, do,
+dear; and afterwards you must all come and make us a visit at our
+villa, near Naples, and we'll show you everything."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Christina," said Mrs. Thayer, when she and her daughter and her
+husband were safe in the privacy of their carriage, "that is a son of
+the rich English banker, St. Leger; they are <I>very</I> rich. We must be
+polite to him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are polite to everybody, mamma."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But <I>you</I> must be polite to him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll try, mamma&mdash;if you wish it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wish it, of course. You never know how useful such an acquaintance
+may be to you. Is he engaged to that girl?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think not, mamma. She says not."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That don't prove anything, though."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, it does, with her. Dolly Copley was always downright&mdash;not like
+the rest."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Every girl thinks it is fair to fib about her lovers. However, I
+thought <I>he</I> looked at you, Christina, not exactly as if he were a
+bound man."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He is too late," said the girl carelessly. "I am a bound woman."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, be civil to him," said her mother. "You never know what people
+may do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't care, mamma. Mr. St. Leger's doings are of no importance to
+me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Thayer was silent now; and her husband remarked that Mr. St. Leger
+could not do better than pick up that pretty, wise-eyed little girl.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Wise-eyed! she is that, isn't she?" cried Christina. "She always was.
+She is grown up wonderfully pretty."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She is no more to be compared to you, than&mdash;well, never mind," said
+Mrs. Thayer. "I hope we shall see more of them at Christmas. Talk of
+eyes,&mdash;Mr. St. Leger's eyes are beautiful. Did you notice them?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly on her side had seen the party descend the rocks, looking after
+them with an odd feeling or mixture of feelings. The meeting with her
+school friend had brought up sudden contrasts never so sharply
+presented to her before. The gay carelessness of those old times, the
+warm shelter of her Aunt Hal's home, the absolute trust in her father
+and mother,&mdash;where was all that now? Dolly saw Christina's placid
+features and secure gaiety, saw her surrounded and sheltered by her
+parents' arms, strong to guard and defend her; and she seemed to
+herself lonely. It fell to her to guard and defend her mother; and her
+father? what was he about?&mdash;There swept over her an exceeding bitter
+cry of desolateness, unuttered, but as it were the cry of her whole
+soul; with again that sting of pain which seemed unendurable, how can a
+father let his child be ashamed of him! She turned away that St. Leger
+might not see her face; she felt it was terribly grave; and betook
+herself now to the examination of the church.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And the still beauty and loftiness of the place wrought upon her by and
+by with a strange effect. Wandering along among pillars and galleries
+and arcades, where saints and apostles and martyrs looked down upon her
+as out of past ages, she seemed to be surrounded by a "great cloud of
+witnesses." They looked down upon her with grave, high sympathy, or
+they looked up with grave, high love and trust; they testified to work
+done and dangers met, and suffering borne, for Christ,&mdash;and to the
+glory awaiting them, and to which they then looked forward, and which
+now they had been enjoying&mdash;how long? What mattered the little troubled
+human day, so that heaven's long sunshine set in at the end of it? And
+that sun "shall no more go down." Dolly roved on and on, going from one
+to another sometimes lovely sometimes stern old image; and gradually
+she forgot the nineteenth century, and dropped back into the past, and
+so came to take a distant and impartial view of herself and her own
+life; getting a better standard by which to measure the one and
+regulate the other. She too could live and work for Christ. What though
+the work were different and less noteworthy; what matter, so that she
+were doing what He gave her to do? Not to make a noise in the world,
+either by preaching or dying; not to bear persecution; just to live
+true and shine, to comfort and cheer her mother, to reclaim and save
+her father, to trust and be glad! Yes, less than that latter would not
+do full honour to her Master or His truth; and so much as that He would
+surely help her to attain. Dolly wandered about the cathedral, and
+mused, and prayed, and grew quiet and strong, she thought; while her
+mother was viewing the church treasures with Mr. St. Leger, Dolly
+excused herself, preferring the church.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dolly, Dolly," said Mrs. Copley when at last she came away, "you don't
+know what you have lost."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is not so much as I have gained, mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm glad we have seen it, Mr. St. Leger; and I'm glad we have done
+with it! I don't want to see any more sights till we get to Venice.
+Where are the Thayers going, Dolly?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To Cologne, mother, and to Nice and Mentone, they said."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wish they were coming to Venice. How fat Christina has grown!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"O mother! She is a regular beauty&mdash;she could not do with less flesh;
+she ought not to lose an ounce of it. She is not fat. She is perfect.
+Is she not, Mr. St. Leger?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lawrence assented that Miss Thayer had the symmetry of a beautiful
+statue.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Too fat," said Mrs. Copley. "If she is a statue now, what will she be
+by and by? I don't like that sort of beauties. Her face wants life."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It does not want sweetness," said Lawrence. "It is a very attractive
+face."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am glad we stopped here, if it was only for the meeting them," said
+Mrs. Copley. "But I can't see how you could miss all those diamonds and
+gold and silver things, Dolly. They were just wonderful."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All the Green vaults did not give me the pleasure this old church did,
+mother."
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap21"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XXI.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+VENICE.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+"You and your friend are the most perfect contrast," remarked Lawrence
+as they were driving away. "She is repose in action&mdash;and you are
+activity in repose."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That sounds well," Dolly answered after a pause. "I am trying to think
+whether there is any meaning in it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Certainly; or I hope so. She is placidity itself; one wonders if she
+could be anything but placid; while you"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Never mind about me," said Dolly hastily. "I am longing to know
+whether mother will like Venice."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Shall you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, I like everything."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Which was the blissful truth. Even anxiety did not prevent its being
+the truth; perhaps anxiety even at times put a keener edge upon
+enjoyment; Dolly fled from troublesome thoughts to the beauties of a
+landscape, the marvels of a piece of mediaeval architecture, the
+bewitchment of a bit of painting from an old master's hand; and tasted,
+and lingered, and tasted over again in memory, all the beauty and the
+marvel and the bewitchment. Lawrence smiled to himself at the thought
+of what she would find in Venice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There's one thing I don't make out," Rupert broke in.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Only one?" said Lawrence. But the other was too intent to heed him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It bothers me, why the people that could build such a grand church,
+couldn't make better houses for themselves."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah!" said Lawrence. "You manage that better in America?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If we didn't&mdash;I'd emigrate! We don't have such splendid things as that
+old pile of stones,"&mdash;looking back at the dome,&mdash;"but our farmhouses
+are a long sight ahead of this country."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I guess, Rupert," Dolly remarked now, "the men that built the dome did
+not build the farmhouses."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who built the dome, as you call it, then? But I don't see any dome;
+there's only a nest of towers."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The nobles built the great cathedrals."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And if you went through one of <I>their</I> houses," said Lawrence, "you
+would not think they neglected number one. You never saw anything like
+an old German <I>schloss</I> in America."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then the nobles had all the money?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Pretty much so. Except the rich merchants in some of the cities; and
+<I>they</I> built grand churches and halls and the like, and made themselves
+happy with magnificence at home in other ways; not architecture."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am glad I don't belong here," said Rupert. "But don't the people
+know any better?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Than what?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Than to let the grand folks have it all their own way?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They were brought up to it," said Lawrence. "That's just what they
+like."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I expect they'll wake up some day," said Rupert. Which observation
+Lawrence did not think worthy of answer; as it was ahead of the time
+and of him equally.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They made no unnecessary delay now in going on to Venice. I think
+Lawrence had had a secret design to see some one of the great gaming
+watering-places; and they had come back to the banks of the Rhine on
+purpose. But, however, both Dolly and her mother were in such haste
+that he could not induce them by any motive of curiosity or interest to
+stop. Dolly indeed had a great horror of those places, and did not
+want, she said, to see how beautiful they were. She hoped for her
+father's coming to them in Venice; and Mrs. Copley with the nervous
+restlessness of an invalid had set her mind on that goal, and would not
+look at anything short of it. So they only passed through Wiesbaden and
+went on.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+But Dolly did want to see Switzerland. When the party came to the lake
+of Constance, however, Mrs. Copley declined that proposal. Everybody
+went to Switzerland, she said; and she did not care about it. The hope
+would have fallen through, only that Lawrence, seeing Dolly's
+disappointment, proposed taking a route through the Tyrol.
+Comparatively few people went there, he assured Mrs. Copley; and
+furthermore, that it was as good a way to Venice as any other. Mrs.
+Copley gave consent;  and to Dolly's immeasurable and inexpressible
+satisfaction through the Tyrol they went.  Nothing could spoil it, even
+although Mrs. Copley every day openly regretted her concession and
+would have taken it back if she could. The one of them was heartily
+sorry, the other as deeply contented, when finally the plains of
+Lombardy were reached.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was evening and rainy weather when they came to the last stage of
+their journey, and left the carriage of which Mrs. Copley had grown so
+weary.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What sort of a place is this?" she asked presently.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not much of a place," said Lawrence. "We will leave it as fast as
+possible."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I should hope so. What are these things? and is that a canal?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We should call it a canal in our country," said Rupert; "but <I>there</I>
+there'd be something at the end of it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But what are those black things?" Mrs. Copley repeated. "Do you want
+me to get into one of them? I don't like it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They are gondolas, mother; Venetian gondolas. We must get into one, if
+we want to go to Venice."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where is Venice?" said Mrs. Copley, looking over the unpromising
+landscape.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know," said Dolly, laughing, "but Mr. St. Leger knows. We
+shall be there in a little while mother, if you'll only get in."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't like boats. And I never saw such boats as those in my life,"
+said Mrs. Copley, holding back. "I would rather keep the carriage and
+go on as we came; though all my bones are aching. I would rather go in
+the carriage."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But you cannot, mother; there are no carriages here. The way is by
+water; and boats are the only vehicles used in Venice. We may as well
+get accustomed to them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No carriages!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, surely you knew that before."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I didn't. I knew there were things to go on the canals; I never knew
+they were such forlorn-looking things; but I supposed there were
+carriages to go in the streets. Are there no carts either? How is the
+baggage going?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There are no streets, mother. The ways are all water ways, and the
+carriages are gondolas; and it is just as lovely as it can be. Come,
+let us try it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What are the houses built on?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mother, suppose you get in, and we'll talk as we go along. We had
+better get out of the rain; don't you think so? It is falling quite
+fast."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I had rather be in the rain than in the sea. Dolly, if it isn't too
+far, I'll walk."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is too far, dear mother. You could not do that. It is a long way
+yet."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lawrence stood by, biting his lips between impatience and a sense of
+the ridiculous; and withal admiring the tender, delicate patience of
+the girl who gently coaxed and reasoned and persuaded, and finally
+moved Mrs. Copley to suffer herself to be put in the gondola, on the
+forward deck of which Rupert had been helping the gondoliers to stow
+some of the baggage. Dolly immediately took her place beside her
+mother; the two young men followed, and the gondola pushed off. Mrs.
+Copley found herself comfortable among the cushions, felt that the
+motion of the gondola was smooth, assured herself that it would not
+turn over; finally felt at leisure to make observations again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We can't see anything here," she remarked, peering out first on one
+side, then on the other.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is nothing to see," said Lawrence, "but the banks of the canal."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very ugly banks, too. Are we going all the way by water now?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All the way, to our hotel door."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do the boatmen know where to go?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes. Have no fear."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why don't they have streets in Venice?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mother, don't you remember, the city is built on sand banks, and the
+sea flows between? The only streets possible are like this. Could
+anything be better? This motion will not fatigue you; and are not your
+cushions comfortable?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The <I>sea</I>, Dolly?" cried Mrs. Copley, catching the word. "You never
+told me that. If the sea comes in, it must be rough sometimes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, mother; it is a shallow level for miles and miles, covered at high
+tide by a few feet of water, and at low tide bare. Venice is built on
+the sand banks of islands which rise above this level."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What ever made people choose such a ridiculous place to build a city,
+when there was good ground enough?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The good ground was not safe from enemies, mother, dear. The people
+fled to these sand islands for safety."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Enemies! What enemies?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+So the history had to be further gone into; in the midst of which Mrs.
+Copley burst out again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm so tired of this canal!&mdash;just mud banks and nothing else. How much
+longer is it to last?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We shall come to something else by and by. Have patience," said
+Lawrence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+But the patience of three of them was tried, before they fairly emerged
+from the canal, and across a broader water saw the lines of building
+and the domes of Venice before them.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You'll soon be out of the gondola now, mother, dear," said Dolly
+delightedly. For the rain clouds had lifted a little, and the wide
+spread of the lagoon became visible, as well as the dim line of the
+city; and Dolly's heart grew big. Mrs. Copley's was otherwise.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll never get into one again," she said, referring to the gondolas.
+"I don't like it. I don't feel as if I was anywhere. There's
+another,&mdash;there's two more. Are they all painted black?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is the fashion of Venetian gondolas."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well! there is nothing like seeing for yourself. I always had an idea
+gondolas were something romantic and pretty. Is the water deep here?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, very shallow," Lawrence assured her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It looks just as if it was deep. I wouldn't have come to Venice if I
+had known what a forlorn place it is."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+But who shall tell the different impression on Dolly's mind, when the
+city was really reached and the gondola entered one of those narrow
+water-ways between rows of palaces. The rain had begun to come down
+again, it is true; a watery veil hung over the buildings, drops plashed
+busily into the canal; there were no beautiful effects of sunlight and
+shadow; and Lawrence himself declared it was a miserable coming to
+Venice. But Dolly was in a charmed state. She noted eagerly every
+strange detail; bridges, boats, people; was hardly sorry for the rain,
+she found so much to delight her in spite of it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What's our man making such noises for?" cried Mrs. Copley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Just to give warning before he turns a corner," Lawrence explained,
+"lest he should run against another gondola."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What would happen then? Is the water deep enough to drown? It would be
+horrid water to be drowned in!" said Mrs. Copley shuddering.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No danger, mother; we are not going to try it," Dolly said soothingly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nobody is ever drowned in Venetian canals," said Lawrence. "They will
+carry us safe to our hotel, Mrs. Copley; never fear."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But hasn't the water risen?" she exclaimed presently.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is up to the steps of that house there."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is up to all the steps, mother, so that people can get into their
+gondolas at their very door; don't you see?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It goes ahead of everything!" exclaimed Rupert, who had scarce spoken.
+"It's like being in a fairy story."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I can't see much beside water," said Mrs. Copley. "Water above and
+water below. It must be unhealthy. And I thought Venice had such
+beautiful old palaces. I don't see any of 'em."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We have passed several of them," said Lawrence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I can see nothing but black walls&mdash;except those queer painted sticks;
+what are <I>they</I> for?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To the gondolas in waiting."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What are they painted so for?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The colours belonging to the family arms."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Whose family?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The family to whom the house belongs."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dolly," said Mrs. Copley, "we shall not want to stay here long. We
+might go on and try Rome. Mrs. Thayer says spring-time is the best at
+Naples."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It will all look very different, Mrs. Copley, when you see it by
+sunlight," said Lawrence. "Wait a little."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly would have enjoyed every inch of the way, if her mother would
+have let her. To her eyes the novel strangeness of the scene was
+entrancing. Not beautiful, certainly; not beautiful yet; by mist and
+rain and darkness how should it be? but she relished the novelty. The
+charmed stillness pleased her; the gliding gondolas; the but half
+revealed houses and palaces; the odd conveyance in which she herself
+was seated; the wonderful water-ways, the strange cries of the
+gondoliers. It was not half spoiled for her, as it was; and she trusted
+the morning would bring for her mother a better mood.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Something of a better mood was produced that evening when Mrs. Copley
+found herself in a warm room, before a good supper. But the next
+morning it still rained. Dark skies, thick atmosphere, a gloomy outlook
+upon ways where no traveller for mere pleasure was to be seen; none but
+people bent on business of one sort or another. Yet everything was
+delightful to Dolly's eyes; the novelty was perfect, the
+picturesqueness undeniable. What she could see of the lagoon, of the
+vessels at anchor, the flying gondolas, the canals and the bridges over
+them, and the beautiful Riva, put Dolly in a rapture. Her eye roved,
+her heart swelled. "O mother!" she exclaimed, "if father would only
+come!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What then?" said Mrs Copley dismally. "He would take us away, I hope."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, but not until we have seen Venice."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"<I>I</I> have seen Venice enough to content me. It is the wettest place I
+was ever in my life."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, it rains, mother. Any place is wet when it rains."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"This would be wet at all times. I think the ground must have sunk,
+Dolly; people would never have built in the water so. The ground must
+have sunk."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, mother; I guess not. It has been always just so."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What made them build here then, when there is all the earth beside?
+What did they take to the water for? And what are the houses standing
+on, any way?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Islands, mother, between which these canals run. I told you before."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I should think the people hadn't any sense."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And nothing would tempt Mrs. Copley out that day. Of course Dolly must
+stay at home too, though she would most gladly have gone about through
+the rainy, silent city, in one of those silent gondolas, and feed her
+eyes at every step. However, she made herself and made her mother as
+comfortable as she could; got out her painting and worked at Rupert's
+portrait, which was so successful that Lawrence begged she would begin
+upon him at once.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You know the conditions," she said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I accept them. Finish one of me so good as that, and I will send it to
+my mother and ask her what she will give for it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But not tell her?"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Certainly not."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I find," said Dolly slowly, "that it is a very great compliment for a
+lady to paint a gentleman's likeness."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She has to give so much attention to the lines of his face. I
+shouldn't like to paint some people. But I'll do anybody, for a
+consideration."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your words are not flattering," said Lawrence, "even if your actions
+are."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said Dolly. "Compliments are not in my way."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And though she made a beginning upon St. Leger's picture, and studied
+the lines of his face accordingly, he did not feel flattered. Dolly's
+clear, intelligent eyes looked at him as steadily and as unmovedly as
+if he had been a Titian.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The next day brought a change. If Dolly had watched from her balcony
+with interest the day before, now she was breathless with what she
+found. The sun was shining bright, a breeze was rippling the waters of
+the lagoon, and gently fluttering a sail and a streamer here and there;
+the beautiful water was enlivened with vessels of all kinds and of many
+lands, black gondolas darted about; and the buildings lining the shores
+of the lagoon stood to view in their beauty and magnificence and
+variety before Dolly's eye; the Doge's palace, here and there a clock
+tower, here and there the bridge over a side canal. "O mother!" she
+cried, "we have seen nothing like this! nothing like this!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am glad it don't rain at least," said Mrs. Copley. "But it can't be
+healthy here, Dolly; it must be damp."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And when they all met at breakfast, and plans for the day began to be
+discussed, she declared that she did not want to see anything.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not St. Mark's?" said Lawrence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What is St. Mark's? It is just a church. I am sure we have seen
+churches enough."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is only one St. Mark's in the world."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't care if there were a dozen. Is it better than the church we
+went to see&mdash;at that village near Wiesbaden?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Limburg? Much better."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well&mdash;that will do for me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is the famous old palace of the Doges; and the Bridge of Sighs,
+Mrs. Copley, and the prisons."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Prisons? You don't think I want to go looking at prisons, do you? Why
+should I? what's in the prisons?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not much. There has been, first and last, a good deal of misery in
+them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And you think that is pleasant to look at?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly could not help laughing, and confessed she would like to see the
+prisons.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, you may go," said her mother. "<I>I</I> don't want to."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lawrence saw that Dolly's disappointment was like to be bitter.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll tell you what I'll show you, Mrs. Copley, if you'll trust
+yourself to go out," he said. "I have got a commission from my mother
+which must take me into one of the wonderful shops of curiosities here.
+You never saw such a shop. Old china, of the rarest, and old furniture
+of the most delightful description, and old curiosities of art out of
+decayed old palaces, caskets, vases, trinkets, mirrors, and paintings."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Copley demurred. "Can we go there in a carriage?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No such thing to be had, except a gondola carriage. Come! you will
+like it. Why, Mrs. Copley, the streets are no broader than very narrow
+alleys. Carriages would be of no use."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Copley demurred, but was tempted. The gondola went better by day
+than in the night. Once out, Lawrence used his advantage and took the
+party first to the Place of St. Mark, where he delighted Dolly with a
+sight of the church. Mrs. Copley was too full of something else to
+admire churches. She waited and endured, while Dolly's eyes and mind
+devoured the new feast given to them. They went into the church, up to
+the roof, and came out to the Piazza again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is odd," said Dolly&mdash;"I see it is beautiful; I see it is
+magnificent; more of both than I can say; and yet, it does not give me
+the feeling of respect I felt for that old dome at Limburg."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But," said Lawrence; "that won't do, you know. St. Mark's and Limburg!
+that opinion cannot stand. What makes you say so?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know," said Dolly. "I have a feeling that the people who built
+that were more in earnest than the people who built this."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"More in earnest? I beg your pardon!" said Lawrence. "What can you
+mean? I should say people were in earnest enough here, to judge by the
+riches of the place. Just see the adornment everywhere, and the
+splendour."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes," said Dolly, "I see. It is partly that. Though there was
+adornment, and riches too, at the other place. But the style of it is
+different. Those grave old towers at Limburg seemed striving up into
+the sky. I don't see any striving here; in the building, I mean."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, there are pinnacles enough," said Lawrence, in comical inability
+to fathom her meaning, or answer her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes," said Dolly; "and domes; but the pinnacles do not strive after
+anything, and the cupolas seem to settle down like great extinguishers
+upon everything like striving."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lawrence laughed, and thought in his own mind that Dolly was a little
+American, wanting culture, and knowing nothing about architecture.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What is that great long building?" Mrs. Copley now inquired.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That, mother?&mdash;that is the palace of the Doges. Where is the Bridge of
+Sighs?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They went round to look at it from the Ponte della Paglia. Nearer
+investigation had to be deferred, or, Dolly saw, it would be too
+literally a bridge of sighs to them that morning. They turned their
+backs on the splendours, ecclesiastical and secular, of the Place of
+St. Mark, and proceeded to the store of second-hand curiosities St.
+Leger had promised Mrs. Copley, the visit to which could no longer be
+deferred. Dolly was in a dream of delight all the way. Sunlight on the
+old palaces, on the bridges over the canals, on the wonderful carvings
+of marbles, on the strange water-ways; sunlight and colour; ay, and
+shadow and colour too, for the sun could not get in everywhere. Between
+the beauty and picturesqueness, and the wealth of old historic legend
+and story clustering about it everywhere, Dolly's dream was entrancing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not know half enough about Venice," she remarked by the way.
+"Rupert, we must read up. As soon as I can get the books," she added
+with a laugh.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+However, Dolly was susceptible to more than one sort of pleasure; and
+when the party had reached the Jew's shop, she was perhaps as much
+pleased though not so much engrossed as her mother. For Mrs. Copley,
+figuratively speaking, was taken off her feet. This was another thing
+from the Green vaults and the treasure chamber of Limburg; here the
+wonders and glories were not unattainable, if one had the means to
+reach them, that is; and not admiration only, but longing, filled Mrs.
+Copley's mind.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I must have that cabinet," she said. "I suppose we can do nothing till
+your father comes, Dolly. Do write and tell him to bring plenty of
+money along, for I shall want some. Such a chance one does not have
+often in one's life. And that cup! Dolly, I <I>must</I> have that cup; it's
+beyond everything I ever did see!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mother, look at this ivory carving."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's out of my line," said Mrs. Copley with a slight glance. "I
+should call that good for nothing, now. What's the use of it? But, O
+Dolly, see this sideboard!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You don't want <I>that</I>, mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why don't I? The price is not so very much."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Think of the expense of getting it home."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is no such great difficulty in that. You must write your father,
+Dolly, to send if he does not come, at once. I should not like to leave
+these things long. Somebody else might see them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Hundreds have seen them already, Mrs. Copley," said Lawrence. "There's
+time enough."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'd rather not trust to that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What things do you want, dear mother, seriously? Anything?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly's voice carried a soft insinuation that her mother's wanting
+anything there was a delusion; Mrs. Copley flamed out.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you think I am coming into such a place as this, Dolly, and going
+to let the chance slip? I <I>must</I> have several of these things. I'll
+tell you. This cup&mdash;that isn't much. Now that delicious old china
+vase&mdash;I do not know what china it is, but I'll find out; there is
+nothing like it, I don't believe, in all Boston. I have chosen that
+sideboard; <I>that</I> is quite reasonable. You would pay quite as much in
+Boston, or in London, for a common handsome bit of cabinet-maker's
+work; while this is&mdash;just look at it, Dolly; see these drawers, see
+these compartments&mdash;that's for wine and cordials, you know"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We don't want wine and cordials," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"See the convenience and the curiousness of these arrangements; and
+look at the inlaying, child! It's the loveliest thing I ever saw in my
+life. Oh, I must have that! And it would be a sin to leave this screen,
+Dolly. Where ever do you suppose that came from?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Eastern work," said Lawrence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What eastern work?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Impossible for me to say. Might have belonged to the Great Mogul, by
+the looks of it. Do you admire <I>that</I>, Mrs. Copley?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How should it come here?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Here? the very place!" said Lawrence. "What was there rare or costly
+in the world, that did not find its way to Venice and into the palaces
+of the old nobles?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But how came it <I>here?</I>"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Into this curiosity shop? The old nobles went to pieces, and their
+precious things went to auction; and good Master Judas or Master Levi
+bought them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And these things were in the palaces of the old nobles?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Many of them. Perhaps all of them. I should say, a large proportion."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That makes them worth just so much the more."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You need not tell Master Levi that. And you have admired so much this
+morning, Mrs. Copley, if you will take my advice, it will be most
+discreet to come away without making any offer. Do not let him think
+you have any purpose of buying. I am afraid he will put on a fearful
+price, if you do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Whether Lawrence meant this counsel seriously, or whether it was a
+feint to get Mrs. Copley safely out of the shop, Dolly was uncertain;
+she was grateful to Lawrence all the same. No doubt he had seen that
+she was anxious. He had been in fact amused at the elder lady not more
+than interested for the younger one; Dolly's delicate attempts to draw
+off her mother from thoughts of buying had been so pretty,
+affectionate, and respectful in manner, sympathising, and yet steady in
+self-denial. Mrs. Copley was hard to bring off. She looked at Lawrence,
+doubtful and antagonistic, but his suggestion had been too entirely in
+her own line not to be appreciated. Mrs. Copley looked and longed, and
+held her tongue; except from exclamations. They got out of the shop at
+last, and Dolly made a private resolve not to be caught there again if
+she could help it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In the afternoon she devoted herself to painting Lawrence's picture.
+Her first purpose had been to take a profile or side view of him; but
+St. Leger declared, if the likeness was for his mother she would never
+be satisfied if the eyes did not look straight into her eyes; so Dolly
+had to give that point up; and accordingly, while she studied him, he
+had full and equal opportunity to study her. It was a doubtful
+satisfaction. He could rarely meet Dolly's eyes, while yet he saw how
+coolly they perused him, how calmly they studied him as an abstract
+thing. He wanted to see a little shyness, a little consciousness, a
+little wavering, in those clear, wise orbs; but no! Dolly sat at her
+work and did it as unconcernedly as if she were five years old, to all
+appearance; with as quiet, calm poise of manner and simplicity of
+dignity as if she had been fifty. But how pretty she was! Those eyes of
+hers were such an uncommon mingling of childhood and womanhood, and so
+lovely in cut and colour and light; and the mouth was the most mobile
+thing ever known under that name, and charming in every mood of rest or
+movement. The whole delicate face, the luxuriant brown hair, the little
+hands, the supple, graceful figure, Lawrence studied over and over
+again; till he felt it was not good for him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Painting a person must make you well acquainted with him," he began
+after a long silence, during which Dolly had been very busy.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Outside knowledge," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Does not the outside always tell something of what is within?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Something," Dolly allowed in the same tone.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do you see in me?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mrs. St. Leger will know, when she gets this."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What you see <I>in</I> me?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, no&mdash;perhaps not."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Couldn't you indulge me and tell me?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why should I?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Out of kindness."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not know whether it would be a kindness," said Dolly slowly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You see, Dolly, a fellow can't stand everything for ever! I want to
+know what you think of me, and what my chances are. Come! I've been
+pretty patient, it strikes me. Speak out a bit."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Copley was lying down to rest, and Rupert had left the room. The
+pair were alone.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do you want me to say, Mr. St. Leger?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Tell me what you see in me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What would be the good of that? I see an Englishman, to begin with."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You <I>see</I> that in me?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Certainly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am glad, but I didn't know it. Is that an advantage in your eyes?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Am I an Englishwoman?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not a bit of it," said Lawrence, "nor like it. I never saw an English
+girl the least like you. But you might grow into it, Dolly, don't you
+think?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She lifted her face for an instant and gave him a flashing glance of
+fun.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Won't you try, Dolly?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think I would just as lieve be an American."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why? America is too far off."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very good when you get there," said Dolly contentedly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But not better than we have on our side?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, you have not all the advantages on your side," said Dolly, much
+occupied with her drawing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Go on, and tell me <I>what</I> we have not."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I doubt the wisdom."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I beg the favour."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It would not please you. In the first place, you would not believe me.
+In the second place, you would reckon an advantage what I reckon a
+disadvantage."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What <I>do</I> you mean?" said Lawrence, very curious and at the same time
+uneasy. Dolly tried to get off, but he held her to the point. At last
+Dolly spoke out.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mr. St. Leger, women have a better time in my country."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A better time? Impossible. There are no homes in the world where wives
+and daughters are better cared for or better loved. None in the world!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah," said Dolly, "they are too well cared for."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How do you mean?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Too little free."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Free?" said Lawrence. "Is <I>that</I> what you want?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And not quite respected enough."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dolly, you bewilder me. What ever did you see or hear to make you
+think our women are not respected?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I dare say it is a woman's view," said Dolly lightly. But Lawrence
+eagerly begged her to explain or give an instance of what she meant.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have not seen much, you know," said Dolly, painting away. "But I
+heard a gentleman once, at his own dinner-table, and when there was
+company present&mdash;I was not the only visitor&mdash;I heard him tell his wife
+that the <I>soup was nasty</I>."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And Dolly glanced up to see how Lawrence took it. She judiciously did
+not tell him that the house was his own father's, and the gentleman in
+question Mr. St. Leger himself. Lawrence was silent at first. I presume
+the thing was not so utterly unfamiliar as that he should be much
+shocked; while he did perceive that here was some difference of the
+point of view between Dolly's standpoint and his own, and was not ready
+to answer. Dolly glanced up at him significantly: still Lawrence did
+not find words.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That didn't mean anything!" at last he said. Dolly glanced at him
+again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose the soup <I>wasn't</I> good. Why not say so?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No reason why he should not say so, at a proper time and place."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It didn't mean any harm, Dolly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose not."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then what's the matter?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is not the way <I>we</I> do," said Dolly. "In America, I mean. Not when
+we are polite."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you think husband and wife ought to be polite to each other&mdash;in
+that way?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In what way?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That they should not call things by their right names?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Here Dolly lifted her sweet head and laughed; a merry, ringing,
+musical, very much amused laugh.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah, you see you are an Englishman," she said. "That is the way you
+will speak to your wife."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I will never speak to <I>you</I>, Dolly, in any way you don't like."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No" said Dolly gravely, and returning to her work.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Aren't you ever going to give me a little bit of encouragement?" said
+he. "I have been waiting as patiently as I could. May I tell my mother
+who did the picture, when I send it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Say it was done by a deserving young artist, in needy circumstances;
+but no names."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But that's not true, Dolly. Your father is as well off as ever he was;
+his embarrassments are only temporary. He is not in needy
+circumstances."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I said nothing about my father. Here, Mr. St. Leger&mdash;come and look at
+it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The finished likeness was done with great truth and grace. Dolly's
+talent was an extraordinary one, and had not been uncultivated. She had
+done her best in the present instance, and the result was a really
+delicious piece of work. Lawrence saw himself given to great advantage;
+truly, delicately, characteristically. He was delighted.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I will send it right off," he said. "Mamma has nothing of me half so
+good."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ask her what she thinks it is worth."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And I want you to paint a duplicate of this, for me; for myself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A duplicate!" cried Dolly. "I couldn't."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Another likeness of me then, in another view. Set your own price."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But I shall never make my fortune painting you," said Dolly. "You must
+get me some other customers; that is the bargain."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What notion is this, Dolly? It is nonsense between me and you. Why not
+let things be settled? Let us come to an understanding, and give up
+this ridiculous idea of painting for money;&mdash;if you are in earnest."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am always in earnest. And we are upon an excellent understanding,
+Mr. St. Leger. And I want money. The thing is as harmonious as
+possible."
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap22"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XXII.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+MR. COPLEY.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Lawrence could get no more satisfaction from Dolly. She left him, and
+went and stood at the window of her mother's room, looking out. The
+sunset landscape was glorious. Bay and boats, shipping, palaces, canals
+and bridges, all coloured in such wonderful colours, brilliant in such
+marvellous lights and shades, as northern lands do not know, though
+they have their own. Yet she looked at it sadly. It was Venice; but
+when would her father come? All her future seemed doubtful and cloudy;
+and the sunshine which is merely external does not in some moods cast
+even a reflection of brightness upon one's inner world. If her father
+would come, and Lawrence would go&mdash;if her father would come and be his
+old self&mdash;but what large "ifs" these were. Dolly's eyes grew misty.
+Then her mother woke up.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What are you looking at, Dolly?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The wonderful sunset, mother. Oh, it is so beautiful! Do come here and
+see the colours on the sails of the boats."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"When do you think your father will be here?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, soon, I hope. He ought to be here soon."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did you tell him I would want money to buy things? I must not lose
+that sideboard."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There was no need to write about that. He can always get money, if he
+chooses, as well here as in London. If he has it, that is; but you
+know, mother"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I know," Mrs. Copley interrupted, "that is all nonsense. He <I>has</I> it.
+He always did have it. He has been spending it in other ways lately;
+that's what it is. Getting his own pleasure. Now it is my turn."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You shall have it, dear mother, if I can manage it. You are nicely
+to-day, aren't you? Venice agrees with you. I'm so glad!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think everything would go right, Dolly, if you would just tell Mr.
+St. Leger that you will have him. I don't like such humming and hawing
+about anything. He really has waited long enough. If you would tell him
+that, now, or tell <I>me</I>, then he would lend me the money I want to get
+those things. I am afraid of losing them. Dolly, when you know you are
+going to say yes, why not say it? I believe I should get well then,
+right off. <I>You</I> would be safe too, any way."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly sighed imperceptibly, and made no answer.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You don't half appreciate Mr. St. Leger. He's just a splendid young
+man. I don't believe there's such another match for you in all England.
+You should have seen how keen Mrs. Thayer was to know all about him.
+Wouldn't she like him for her daughter, though! and she is handsome
+enough, according to some taste. I wish, Dolly, you'd have everything
+fixed and square before we meet the Thayers again; or you cannot tell
+what may happen. He may slip through your fingers yet."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly made as little answer as possible. And further, she contrived for
+a few days to keep her mother from the curiosity shops. It could be
+done only by staying persistently within doors; and Dolly shut herself
+up to her painting, and made excuses. But she found this was telling
+unfavourably on her mother's spirits, and so on her nerves and health;
+and she began to go out again, though chafing at her dependence on
+Lawrence, and longing for her father exceedingly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He came at last; and Dolly to her great relief thought he looked well;
+though certainly not glad to be in Venice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How's your mother?" he asked her when they were alone.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think she will be well now, father; now that you have come. And I
+have so wanted you!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have no doubt she could have got along just as well without me till
+she went to Sorrento, if she had only thought so."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't think she could. And <I>I</I> could not, father. I do not like to
+be left so much to Mr. St. Leger's care."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He likes it. How has he behaved?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He has behaved very well."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then what's the matter?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't want him to think he has a right to take care of us."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He has the right, if I give it to him. And you know you mean to give
+him the right, Dolly, in permanence. What's the use of fighting shy
+about it? Oh, girls, girls! You must have your way, I suppose. Well,
+now I'm here to look after you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And the business of sight-seeing was carried on from that time with
+unabating activity. They went everywhere, and still Mr. Copley found
+new things for them to see. Mrs. Copley took him into the curiosity
+shops, but as surely he took her out of them, with not much done in the
+way of purchases. Dolly enjoyed everything during the first week or
+two. She would have enjoyed it hugely, only that the lurking care about
+her father was always present to her mind. She was not at rest. Mr.
+Copley seemed well and cheery; active and hearty as usual; yet Dolly
+detected something hollow in the cheer and something forced in the
+activity. She thought him restless and uneasy, in spite of all the
+gaiety.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+One day after an excursion of some length the party had turned into a
+restaurant to refresh themselves. Chocolate and coffee had been
+brought; and then Mr. Copley exclaimed, "Hang it! this won't do. Have
+you drunk nothing but slops all this while, Lawrence?" And he ordered
+the waiter to bring a flask of Greek wine. Dolly's heart leaped to her
+mouth.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh no, father!" she said pleadingly, laying her hand on his.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh no, what, my child?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No wine, please, father!" There was more intensity in Dolly's accents
+than perhaps anybody knew but Mr. Copley; he had the key; and the low
+quaver in Dolly's voice did not escape him. He answered without letting
+himself meet her eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why not? Hasn't Lawrence given you any <I>vino dolce</I> since you have
+been in foreign parts? One can get good wine in Venice; and pure."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If one knows where to go for it," added St. Leger. "So I am told."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have not found out by experience yet? We will explore together."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not for wine, father?" murmured Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, for wine. Wine is one of the good things. What do you think
+grapes grow for, eh? Certainly, wine is a good thing, if it is properly
+used. Eh, Lawrence?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have always thought so, sir."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Cheer your mother up now, Dolly. I believe it would do her lots of
+good. Here it is. We'll try."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly flushed with pain and anxiety. Yet here, how could she speak
+plainly? Her father was opening the bottle, and the waiter was setting
+the glasses.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We have it on good authority, Miss Dolly," Lawrence said, looking at
+her, and not sure how far he might venture, "that wine 'maketh glad the
+heart of man.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And on the same authority we have it that 'wine is a mocker.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What will you do with contradictory authority?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They are not contradictory, those two words," said Dolly. "It is
+deceitful; it gets hold of a man, and then he cannot get loose from it.
+You <I>know</I>, Mr. St. Leger, what work it does."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not <I>good</I> wine," said her father, tossing off his glass. "That's
+fair; nothing extra. I think we can find better. Letitia, try it; I
+have a notion it will do you good;&mdash;ought to have been tried before."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And he filled his wife's glass, and then Dolly's, and then Rupert's.
+Dolly felt as nearly desperate as ever in her life. Her father had the
+air of a man who has broken through a slight barrier between him and
+comfort. Mrs. Copley sipped the wine. Lawrence looked observingly from
+one face to another. Then Dolly stretched out her hand and laid it upon
+Rupert's glass.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Please stand by me, Rupert!" she begged.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I will!" said the young man, smiling. "What do you want me to do?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do as I do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I will."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly lifted her glass and poured the contents of it into the nearly
+emptied chocolate jug. Rupert immediately followed her example.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What's that for?" said her father, frowning.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's waste," added her mother. "I call that waste."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't make yourself ridiculous, Dolly!" Mr. Copley went on. "My child,
+the world has drunk wine ever since before you were born, and it will
+go on drinking it after you are dead. What is the use of trying to
+change what cannot be changed? What can <I>you</I> do?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Father, I will not help a bad cause."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How is it a bad cause, Miss Dolly?" said Lawrence now. "It is a
+certain pleasure,&mdash;but what harm?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you ask me that?" said she, with a look of her clear, womanly eyes,
+which it was not very pleasant to meet.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, of course, if people misuse the thing,"&mdash;&mdash; he began.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do they often misuse it, Mr. St. Leger?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, yes; perhaps they do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Go on. What are the consequences, when they misuse it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"When people drink too much bad brandy of course&mdash;but wine like <I>this</I>
+never hurt anybody."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly thought, it had hurt <I>her</I> that day; but she could not trust her
+voice to say it. Her lips trembled, her beautiful eyes filled, she was
+obliged to wait. And how, there before her father whom the fruit of the
+vine had certainly hurt grievously, and before Mr. St. Leger who knew
+as much and had seen it, could she put the thing in words? Her father
+had chosen his time cruelly. And where was his promise? Dolly fought
+and swallowed and struggled with herself; and tried to regain command
+of voice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's a narrow view, ray dear," said Mr. Copley, filling his glass
+again, to Dolly's infinite horror; "a narrow view. Well-bred people do
+not hold it. It is always a mistake to set yourself against the world.
+The world is generally right."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"O father, do you think so?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not a doubt of it," said Mr. Copley, sipping the wine and looking from
+one to another of the faces in the little group. "Dolly is a foolish
+girl, Rupert; do not let her persuade you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It certainly is not the wine that is to be condemned," said Lawrence,
+"but the immoderate use of it. That's all."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do you call immoderate use of it?" Rupert asked now, putting the
+question in Dolly's interest.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"More than your head can bear," said Lawrence. "Keep within that limit,
+and you're all right."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Suppose your neighbour cannot bear what you can?" said Dolly, looking
+at him. "And suppose your example tempts him?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's his business to know what he can take," said Lawrence. "It isn't
+mine."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But suppose he is drawn on by your example, and drinks more than he
+can bear? What follows, Mr. St. Leger?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly's voice had a pathetic clang which touched Rupert, and I think
+embarrassed Lawrence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If he is so unwise, of course he suffers for it. But as I said, that
+is his business."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And not yours?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course not!" Mr. Copley broke in. "Dolly, you do not understand the
+world. How can I tell St. Leger how much he is to drink? or he tell me
+how much I must? Don't be absurd, child! You grow a little absurd,
+living alone."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Father, I think the world might be better than it is. And one person
+helps on another for good or for evil. And St. Paul was not of your
+opinion."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"St. Paul? What did he say about it? That one must not drink wine? Not
+at all. He told Timothy, or somebody, to take it, for his stomach's
+sake."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But he said,&mdash;that if meat made his brother to offend, he would eat no
+meat while the world stood, lest he made his brother to offend. And
+meat is certainly a good thing."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, there are just two things about it," said Mr. Copley; "meat is
+not wine, and I am not St. Paul. A little more, Lawrence. If it is not
+a man's duty to look after his neighbour's potations, neither is it a
+woman's. Dolly is young; she will learn better."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+If she did not, Lawrence thought, she would be an inconvenient helpmeet
+for him. He was very much in love; but certainly he would not wish his
+wife to take up a crusade against society. Perhaps Dolly <I>would</I> learn
+better; he hoped so. Yet the little girl had some reason, too; for her
+father gave her trouble, Lawrence knew. "I'm sorry," he thought,
+"deuced sorry! but really I can't be expected to take Mr. Copley, wine
+and all, on my shoulders. Really it is not my look-out."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly went home very sober and careful. It is true, not much wine had
+been drunk that day. Yet she knew a line had been passed, the passing
+of which was significant of future licence, and introductory to it. And
+that it had been done in her presence was to prove to her that her
+influence could avail nothing. It was bravado. What lay before her now?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Rupert," she said suddenly, as they were walking together, "let us
+make a solemn pledge, you and I, each to the other, that we will never
+drink wine nor anything of the sort; unless we must, for sickness, you
+know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What would be the good of that?" said the young man, laughing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know," said Dolly, from whose eyes, on the contrary, hot tears
+began to drop. "Perhaps I shall save you, and you may save me; how can
+we tell?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But we could keep from it just the same, without pledging ourselves?"
+said Rupert, soberly enough now.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Could; but we might be tempted. If we do this, maybe we can help other
+people, as well as each other."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The tears were coming so thick from Dolly's eyes that Rupert's heart
+was sore for her. She was brushing them away, right and left, but he
+saw them glitter and fall; and he thought the man who could, for the
+sake of a glass of wine, cause such tears to be shed, was&mdash;I won't say
+what he thought he was. He was mad against Mr. Copley and St. Leger
+too. He promised whatever Dolly wanted.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And when they were at home, and an opportunity was found, the agreement
+abovementioned was written out, and Rupert made two copies, and one of
+them he kept and one Dolly kept; both signed with both their names.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+So Rupert was safe. From that day, however, things went less well with
+Mr. Copley. He began by small degrees to withdraw himself from the
+constant attendance upon his wife and daughter which he had hitherto
+practised, leaving them again to Lawrence's care. By little and little
+this came about. Mr. Copley excused himself in the morning, and was
+with them in the evening; then after a while he was missing in the
+evening. Dolly tried to hold him fast, by getting him to sit for his
+picture; and the very observation under which she held him so, showed
+her that he was suffering from evil influences. His eyes had lost
+something of their frank, manly sparkle; avoided hers; looked dull and
+unsteady. The lines of his whole face inexplicably were changed; an
+expression of feebleness and something like humiliation taking place of
+the alert, bold, self-sufficient readiness of look and tone which had
+been natural to him. Dolly read it all, with a heart torn in two, and
+painted it as she read it; making a capital picture of him. But it
+grieved Dolly sorely, while it delighted everybody else.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What is it worth, father?" she asked, concealing as well as she could
+what she felt.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Worth? it's worth anything you please. It is glorious, Dolly!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I work for money," she said archly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Upon my word, you could turn a pretty penny if you did. This is
+capital work," said he, turning to Lawrence. "If this had been done on
+ivory, now"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I did a likeness of Mr. St. Leger for his mother&mdash;that was on ivory.
+She sent me ten pounds for it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ten pounds to <I>her</I>. To anybody else, I should say it was worth
+twenty,&mdash;well," said Mr. Copley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So I say, sir," Lawrence answered. "I am going to pay that price for
+my copy."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then will you pay me twenty pounds, sir?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I?" said Mr. Copley. "Not exactly, Dolly! I am not made of money, like
+your friend Lawrence here. Wish I could, and you should have it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Will you get me customers, then, father?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Customers!" echoed Mr. Copley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes. Because you are not made of money, you know, father; and I want a
+good deal of money."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You!" said Mr. Copley, looking at her. For, indeed, Dolly had never
+been one of those daughters who make large demands on their father's
+purse. But Dolly answered now with a calm, practical tone and manner.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, I do, father; and mother has a longing for some of those Arabian
+Nights things in the curiosity shops. You know people enough here,
+father; show them your picture and get me customers."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't be ridiculous, Dolly," said her father. "We are not at the point
+of distress yet. And," he added in a graver tone, as Lawrence left the
+room, "you must remember, that even if I were willing to see my
+daughter working as a portrait-painter, Mr. St. Leger might have a
+serious objection to his wife doing it&mdash;or a lady who is to be his
+wife."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mr. St. Leger may dispose of his wife when he gets her," said Dolly
+calmly. "I am not that lady."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, you are."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not if I know anything about it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you don't!" said Mr. Copley. "It is proverbial that girls never
+know their own minds. Why, Dolly, it would be the making of you, child."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, father; only of my dresses."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Copley was a little provoked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What's your objection to St. Leger? Can you give one?" he asked hotly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Father, he doesn't suit me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You don't like him, because you don't like him. A real woman's reason!
+Isn't he handsome?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very. And sleepy."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He's wide awake enough for purposes of business."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Maybe; not for purposes of pleasure. Father, beautiful paintings and
+grand buildings are nothing to him; nothing at all; and music might be
+the tinkling of tin kettles for all the meaning he finds in it. Father,
+dear, do get me some customers!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are a silly girl, Dolly!" said her father, breaking away, and not
+very well pleased. Neither did he bring her customers. Those were not
+the days of photographs. Dolly took to painting little bits of views in
+Venice; here a palace; there a bridge over a canal; the pillars with
+the dragon and St. Theodore, the Place of St. Mark, bits of the Riva
+with boats; she finished up these little pictures with great care and
+delicacy of execution, and then employed Rupert to dispose of them in
+the stationers' and fancy shops. He had some difficulty at first in
+finding the right market for her wares; however, he finally succeeded;
+and Dolly could sell as many pictures as she could paint. True, not for
+a great price; they did not pay so well as likenesses; but Dolly took
+what she could get, feeling very uncertain of supplies for a time that
+was coming. Mr. Copley certainly was not flush with his money now; and
+she did not flatter herself that his ways were mending.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Less and less did his wife and daughter see of his company.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Rupert," said Dolly doubtfully, one day, "do you know where my father
+goes, so much of the time?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said Rupert; "that's just what I don't. But I can find out, easy."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly did not say, Do; she did not say anything; she stood pondering
+and anxious by the window. Neither did Rupert ask further; he acted.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It came by degrees to be a pretty regular thing, that Mr. Copley spent
+the evening abroad, excused himself from going anywhere with his
+family, and when they did see him wore an uncertain, purposeless,
+vagrant sort of look and air. By degrees this began to strike even
+Mrs. Copley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wish you would just make up your mind to marry Mr. St. Leger!" she
+said almost weepingly one day. "Then all would go right. I believe it
+would make me well, to begin with; and it would bring your father right
+back to his old self."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How, mother?" Dolly said sadly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It would give him spirit at once. It is because he is out of spirits
+that he does so." (Mrs. Copley did not explain herself.) "I know, if he
+were once sure of seeing you Mrs. St. Leger, all would come right.
+Lawrence would help him; he <I>could</I> help him then."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who would help me?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nonsense, Dolly! Who would help you choose your dresses and wear your
+diamonds; that is all the difficulty you would have. But all's going
+wrong!" said Mrs. Copley, sinking into tears; "and you are selfish,
+like everybody else, and think only of yourself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly bore this in silence. It startled her, however, greatly, to find
+her own view of things held by her much less sharp-sighted mother. She
+pondered on what was best to do. Should she sit still and quietly see
+her father lost irretrievably in the bad habits which were creeping
+upon him? But what step could she take? She asked herself this question
+evening after evening.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was late one night, and Lawrence as well as her father had been out
+ever since dinner. Mrs. Copley, weary and dispirited, had gone to bed.
+Dolly stood at the window looking out, not to see how the moonlight
+sparkled on the water and glanced on the vessels, but in a hopeless
+sort of expectancy watching for her father to come. The stream of
+passers-by had grown thin, and was growing thinner.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Rupert," Dolly spoke after a long silence, "do you know where my
+father is?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Can't say I do. I could give a pretty fair guess, though, if you asked
+me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Could you take me to him?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Take you to him!" exclaimed the young man, starting.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Can you find the way? Where is it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I've been there often enough," said Rupert.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What place is it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The queerest place you ever saw. Do you recollect Mr. St. Leger
+telling us once about wine-shops in Venice? You and he were talking"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, yes, I remember. Is it one of those? Not a café?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not a café at all; neither a café nor a trattoria. Just a wine-shop.
+Nothing in it but wine casks, and the mugs or jugs of white and blue
+crockery that they draw the wine into; it's the most ridiculous place
+altogether I ever was in. I haven't been in it now, that's a fact."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What were you there for so often, then?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well," said Rupert, "I was looking after things."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Drink wine and eat nothing!" said Dolly again. "Are there many people
+there?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, you can eat if you have a mind to; there are folks enough to
+sell you things; though they don't belong to the establishment. They
+come in from the street, with ever so many sorts of things, directly
+they see a customer sit down; fish and oysters, and cakes and fruit.
+But the shop sells nothing but wine. Mr. St. Leger says that is good."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not many people there?" Dolly asked again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No; not unless at a busy time. There won't be many there now, I guess."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What makes you think my father is there?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I've seen him there pretty often," Rupert said in a low voice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly stood some minutes silent, thinking, and struggling with herself.
+When she turned to Rupert at the end of those minutes, her air was
+quite composed and her voice was clear and calm.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Can you take me there, Rupert? Can you find the way?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I know it as well as the way to my mouth. You see, I didn't know but
+maybe&mdash;I couldn't tell what you might take a notion to want me to do;
+so I just practised, till I had got the ins and outs of the thing. And
+there are a good many ins and outs, I can tell you. But I know them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then we will go," said Dolly. "I'll be ready in two minutes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was a brilliant moonlight night, as I said. Venice, the bride of the
+Adriatic, lay as if robed in silver for her wedding. The air was soft,
+late as the time of year was; Dolly had no need of any but a light wrap
+to protect her in her midnight expedition. Rupert called a gondola, and
+presently they were gliding along, as still as ghosts, under the shadow
+of bridges, past glistening palace fronts, again in the deep shade of a
+wall of buildings. Wherever the light struck it was like molten silver;
+façades and carvings stood sharply revealed; every beauty of the weird
+city seemed heightened and spiritualised; almost glorified; while the
+silence, the outward peace, gave still more the impression of a place
+fair-like and unreal. It was truly a wonderful sail, a marvellous
+passage through an enchanted city, never to be forgotten by either of
+the two young people; who went for some distance in a silence as if a
+spell were upon them too.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At Dolly's age, with all its elasticity, some aspects of trouble are
+more overwhelming than in later years. When one has not measured life,
+not learned yet the relations and proportions of things, one imagines
+the whole earth darkened by the cloud which is but hiding the sun from
+the spot where our feet stand. And before one has seen what wonders
+Time can do, the ruin wrought by an avalanche or a flood seems
+irreparable. It is inconceivable, that the bare and torn rocks should
+be clothed again, the choking piles of rubbish ever be anything but
+dismal and unsightly, the stripped fields ever be green and
+flourishing, or the torn-up trees be ever replaced. Yet Time does it
+all. Come after a while to look again, and the traces of past
+devastation are not easy to find; nature's weaving has so covered, and
+nature's embroidery has so adorned, the bald places. In human life
+there is something like this often done; though, as I said, youth wots
+not of it and does not believe in it. So Dolly this night saw her
+little life a wilderness, which had been a garden of flowers. Some
+flowers might be lifting their heads yet, but what Dolly looked at was
+the destruction. Wrought by her own father's hand! I cannot tell how
+that thought stung and crushed Dolly. What would anything else in the
+world have mattered, so she could have kept him? help could have been
+found; but to lose <I>him</I>, her father, and not by death, but by change,
+by dishonour, by loss of his identity&mdash;Dolly felt indeed that a storm
+had come upon the little garden of her life from the sweeping ruin of
+which there could be no revival. She could hardly hold her head up for
+a long distance of that midnight sail; yet she did, and noted as they
+passed the fairy glories of the scene. Just noted them, to deepen, if
+possible, the pangs at her heart. All this beauty, all this outward
+delight, mocked the inner reality; and made sharp the sense of it with
+the contrast of what might have been. As they went along, Venice became
+to her fancy a grave and monument of lost things, which floated
+together in her mind's vision. Past struggles for freedom, beaten back
+or faded out; vanished patriotism and art, with their champions;
+extinct ambitions and powers; historical glories evaporated, as it
+were, leaving only a scent upon the air; what was left at Venice but
+monuments? and like it now her own little life gone out and gone down!
+For so it seemed to Dolly. Even if she succeeded in her mission, and
+brought her father home, what safety, what security could she have? And
+if she did <I>not</I> bring him&mdash;then all was lost indeed. It was lost
+anyhow, she thought, as far as her own life was concerned. Her father
+could not be what he had been again. "O father! my father!" was poor
+Dolly's bitter cry, "if you had taken anything else from me, and only
+left me yourself!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+After a long time, when she spoke to Rupert, it was in a quiet,
+unaltered voice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is this the shortest way, Rupert?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"As like as not it's the longest. But, you see, it's the only way I
+know. I've always got there starting from the Place of St. Mark; and
+that way I know what I am about; but though I daresay there's a short
+cut home, I've never been it, and don't know it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly added no more.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's a bit of a walk from St. Mark's," Rupert went on. "Do you mind?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said Dolly, sighing. "Rupert, I wish you were a Christian friend!
+You are a good friend, but I wish you were a Christian!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why just now?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nobody else can give one comfort. You cannot, Rupert, with all the
+will in the world; there is no comfort in anything you could tell me. I
+have only one Christian friend on this side of the Atlantic; and that
+is Mrs. Jersey; and she might as well be in America too, where Aunt Hal
+is!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly was crying. It went to Rupert's heart.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What could a Christian friend say to you?" he asked at length.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Remind me of something, or of some words, that I ought to remember,"
+said Dolly, still weeping.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of what?" said Rupert. "If you know, tell me. Remind yourself; that's
+as good as having some one else remind you. What comfort is there in
+religion for a great trouble? Is there any?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What then? Tell us, Miss Dolly. I may want it some time, as well as
+you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose everybody is pretty sure to want it, some time in his life,"
+said Dolly sadly, but trying to wipe away her tears.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Let's have the comfort then," said Rupert, "if you've got it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, are <I>you</I> in trouble, Rupert?" she said, rousing up. "What about?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Never mind; let's have the comfort; that's the thing wanted just now.
+What would you say to me now if I wanted it pretty bad?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The trouble is, it is so hard to believe what God says," Dolly said,
+speaking half to herself and half to her companion.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What does He say? Is it anything a fellow can take hold of and hold on
+to? I never could make out much by what I've heard folks tell; and I
+never heard much anyhow, to begin with."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"One of the things that are good to me," said Dolly, bowing her face on
+her hand, "is&mdash;that Jesus knows."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Knows what?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All about it&mdash;everything&mdash;my trouble, and your trouble, if you have
+any."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't see the comfort in that. If He knows, why don't He hinder? I
+suppose He <I>can</I> hinder?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He does hinder whatever would be real harm to His people; He has
+promised that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, ain't this real harm, that is worrying you?" said Rupert. "What
+do you call harm?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Pain and trouble are not always harm," said Dolly, "for His children
+often have them, I know; and no trouble seems sweet at the minute, but
+bitter; and the sweet fruits come afterward. Oh, it's so bitter now!"
+cried poor Dolly, unable to keep the tears back again;&mdash;"but He knows.
+He knows."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If He knows," said Rupert, wholly unable to understand this reasoning,
+"why doesn't He hinder? That's what I look at."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know," said Dolly faintly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What comforts you in that, then?" said Rupert almost impatiently.
+"That's too big a mouthful for me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, you're wrong," said Dolly. "He knows why. I have the comfort of
+that, and so I am sure there <I>is</I> a why. It is not all vague chance and
+confusion, with no hand to rule anything. Don't you see what a
+difference that makes?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you mean to say, that everything that happens is for the best?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said Dolly. "Wrong can never be as good as right. Only, Rupert,
+God will so manage things that to His children&mdash;to His children&mdash;good
+shall come out of evil, and nothing really hurt them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then the promise is only for them?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's all. How could it be for the others?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't see it," said Rupert. "Seems to my eyes as if black was black
+and white white; it's the fault of my eyes, I s'pose. It is only
+moonshine to my eyes, that makes black white."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Rupert, you do not understand. I will tell you. You know the story of
+Joseph. Well, when his brothers tried to murder him, that was what you
+call evil, wasn't it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Black, and no moonshine on it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yet it led to his being sold into Egypt."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What was the moonshine on that? He was a slave, warn't he?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But that brought him to be governor of Egypt; he was the means of the
+plenty in the land through those years of famine; and by his power and
+influence his family was placed in the best of the land when starvation
+drove them down there."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But why must he be sold a slave to begin with?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Good reasons. As a servant of Potiphar he learned to know all about
+the land and its produce and its cultivation, and the peasant people
+that cultivated it. If it had not been for the knowledge he gained as a
+slave, Joseph could never have known what to do as a governor."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I never thought of that," said Rupert, his tone changing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then when he was thrown into prison, <I>you</I> would have said that was a
+black experience too?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I should, and no mistake."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And there, among the great prisoners of state, he learned to know
+about the politics of the country, and heard what he never could have
+heard talked about anywhere else; and there, by interpreting their
+dreams, he recommended himself to the high officers of Pharaoh. Except
+through the prison, it is impossible to see how he, a poor foreigner,
+could ever have come to be so distinguished at the king's court; for
+the Egyptians hated and despised foreigners."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll be whipped if that ain't a good sermon," said Rupert drily; "and
+what's more, I can understand it, which I can't most sermons I've
+heard. But look here,&mdash;do you think God takes the same sort of look-out
+for common folks? Joseph was Joseph."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The care comes of His goodness, not out of our worthiness," said
+Dolly, the tears dripping from her eyes. "To Him, Dolly is Dolly, and
+Rupert is Rupert, just as truly. I know it, and yet I am so ungrateful!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But tell me, then," Rupert went on, "how comes it that God, who can do
+everything, does not make people good right off? Half the trouble in
+the world comes of folks' wrong-headedness; why don't He make 'em
+reasonable?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He tries to make them reasonable."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"<I>Tries!</I> Why don't He do it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You, for instance," said Dolly&mdash;"because He has given you the power of
+choice, Rupert; and you know yourself that obedience would not be
+obedience if it were not voluntary."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+On this theological nut Rupert ruminated, without finding anything to
+say.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have comforted me," Dolly went on presently. "Thank you, Rupert.
+You have made me remember what I had forgotten. Just look at that
+palace front in the moonlight!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The world's a queer place, though," said Rupert, not heeding the
+palace front.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What are you thinking of?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"This city, for one thing. I've been, reading that book you lent me.
+Hasn't there been confusion enough, though, up and down these canals,
+and in and out of those palaces! and the rest of the world is pretty
+much in the same way. Only in America it ain't quite so bad. I suppose
+because we haven't had time enough."
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap23"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+THE WINE-SHOP.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+It was past twelve by the clock tower when the two left the gondola and
+entered the Place of St. Mark. The old church with its cupolas, the
+open Place, the pillars with St. Theodore and the dragon, the palace of
+the Doges with its open stone work, showed like a scene out of another
+world; so unearthly beautiful, so weird and so stately. There had been
+that day some festival or public occasion which had called the
+multitude together, and lingerers were still to be seen here and there,
+and the windows of cafés and trattorie were lighted, and the buzz of
+voices came from them. Dolly and Rupert crossed the square, however,
+without more than a moment's lingering, and plunged presently into what
+seemed to her a labyrinth of confused ways. Such ways! an alley in New
+York would be broad in comparison; two women in hoops would have been
+obliged to use some skill to pass each other; they threaded the old
+city in the strangest manner. Rupert went steadily and without
+hesitation, Dolly wondered how he could, through one into another, up
+and down, over bridge after bridge, clearly knowing his way; yet it was
+a nervous walk to her, for more than one reason. Sometimes the whole
+line of one of these narrow streets, if they could be called so, would
+be perfectly dark; the moonlight not getting into it, and only
+glittering on a palace cornice or a street corner in view; others,
+lying right for the moonbeams, were flooded with them from one turning
+to another. Most of the shops were closed; but the sellers of fruit had
+not shut up their windows yet, and now and then a cook-shop made a most
+peculiar picture, with its blazing fire at the back, and its dishes of
+cooked and uncooked viands temptingly displayed at the street front.
+Steadily and swiftly Rupert and Dolly passed on; saw these things
+without stopping to look at them, but yet saw them so that in all
+after-life those peculiar effects of light and shade, fireshine and
+moonlight, Italian fruits and vegetables, and fish coloured by the one
+or the other illumination, were never lost from memory. Here there
+would be a red Vulcanic glow in the interior of a shop where the
+furnace fire was flaming up about the pots and pans of cookery; and at
+the street front, at the window, the moonlight glinting white from the
+edge of a dish, or glancing from a pane of glass; and then again
+reflected from the still waters of a canal. The two saw these things,
+and never forgot; but Dolly was silent and Rupert did not know what to
+say. Yet he thought he felt her arm tremble sometimes, and would have
+given a great deal to be able to speak to the purpose. Perhaps Dolly at
+length found the need of distraction to her thoughts, for she it was
+that first said anything.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I hope mother will not wake up!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She would not understand my being away."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then she does not know?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I did not dare tell her. I had to risk it. I do not want her ever to
+know, Rupert, if it can be helped."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She'll be no wiser for me. What are you going to do now, Miss Dolly?
+We ain't far off the place."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am going to get my father to go home with me. You needn't come in.
+Better not. You go back to the gondola and wait there for a little
+say&mdash;a quarter or half an hour; if I do not come before that, then go
+on home."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But you cannot go anywhere alone?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh no; I shall have father; but I cannot tell which way he may take to
+get home. You go back to the gondola,&mdash;or no, be in front of St.
+Mark's; that would be better."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am afraid to leave you, Miss Dolly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You need not. One gets to places where there is nothing to fear any
+more."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Rupert was not sure what she meant; her voice had a peculiar cadence
+which struck him. Then they turned another corner, and a few steps
+ahead of them saw the light from a window making a strip of
+illumination across the street, which here was unvisited by the
+moonbeams.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is the place," said Rupert.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly slackened her walk, and the next minute paused before the window
+and looked in. The light was not brilliant, yet sufficient to show
+several men within, some sitting and drinking, some in attendance; and
+Dolly easily recognised one among the former number. She drew her arm
+from Rupert's.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now go back to St. Mark's," she whispered. "I wish it. Yes, I would
+rather go in alone. Wait for me a little while in front of St. Mark's."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She stood still yet half a minute, making her observations or getting
+up her resolution; then with a light, swift step passed into the shop.
+Rupert could not obey her and go at once; he felt he must see what she
+did and what her reception promised to be; he came a little nearer to
+the window and gazed anxiously in. The minutes he stood there burned
+the scene for ever into his memory.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The light shone in a wide, spacious apartment, which it but gloomily
+revealed. There was nothing whatever of the outward attractions with
+which in New York or London a drinking saloon, not of a low order,
+would have been made pleasant and inviting. The wine had need to be
+good, thought Rupert, when men would come to such a place as this and
+spend time there, simply for the pleasure of drinking it. Yet several
+men were there, taking that pleasure, even so late as the hour was; and
+they were respectable men, at least if their dress could be taken in
+testimony. They sat with mugs and glasses before them; one had a plate
+of olives also, another had some other tit-bit or provocative; one
+seemed to be in converse with Mr. Copley, who was not beyond converse
+yet, though Rupert saw he had been some time drinking. His face was
+flushed a little, his eyes dull, his features overspread with that
+inane stupidity which comes from long-continued and purely sensual
+indulgence of any kind, especially under the fumes of wine. To the side
+of this man, Rupert saw Dolly go. She went in, as I said, with a light,
+quick step, looked at nobody else, made straight to her father, and
+laid a hand upon his shoulder. With that she threw back her
+head-covering a little,&mdash;it was some sort of a scarf, of white and
+brown worsted knitting, which lay around her head like a glory, in
+Rupert's eyes,&mdash;and showed her face to her father. Fair and delicate
+and sweet, bright and grave at once, for she <I>did</I> look bright even
+there, she stood at his side like his good angel, with her little hand
+upon his shoulder. No wonder Mr. Copley started and looked frightened;
+that was the first look; and then confused. Rupert understood it all,
+though he could not hear what was said. He saw the man was embarrassed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dolly!" said Mr. Copley, falling back upon his first thought, as the
+easiest to speak of,&mdash;"what is the matter?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nothing with me, father. Will you take me home?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where's your mother?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She is at home. But it is pretty late, father."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where's Lawrence?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where is Rupert, then?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He is out, somewhere. Will you go home with me, father?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How did you come here?" said Mr. Copley, sitting a little straighter
+up, and now beginning to replace or conceal confusion with displeasure.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I will tell you. I will tell you on the way. But shall we go first,
+father? I don't like to stay here."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Here? What in the name of ten thousand devils&mdash;&mdash; Who brought you
+here?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am alone," said Dolly. "Hadn't we better go, father? and then we can
+talk as we go."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At this point a half tipsy Venetian rose, and stepping before the pair
+with a low reverence, said something to Mr. Copley, of which Dolly only
+understood the words, "La bella signorina;" they made her, however,
+draw her scarf forward over her face and brought Mr. Copley to his
+feet. He could stand, she saw, but whether he could walk very well was
+open to question.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Signer, signor"&mdash;&mdash; he began, stammering and incensed. Dolly seized
+his arm.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Shall we go, father? It is so late, and mother might want me. It is
+very late, father. Never mind anything, but come!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Copley was sufficiently himself to see the necessity; nevertheless,
+his score must be paid; and his head was in a bad condition for
+reckoning. He brought out some silver from his pocket, and stood
+somewhat helplessly looking at it and at the shopman alternately; then
+with an awkward movement of his elbow contrived to throw over a glass,
+which fell on the floor and broke. Everybody was looking now at the
+father and daughter, and words came to Dolly's ears which made her
+cheek burn. But she stood calm, self-possessed, waiting with a somewhat
+lofty air of maidenly dignity; helped her father solve the reckoning,
+paid for the glass, and at last got hold of his arm and drew him away;
+after a gentle, grave salutation to the attendant which he answered
+profoundly, and which brought everybody in the little shop to his feet
+in involuntary admiration and respect. Dolly looked at nobody, yet with
+sweet courtesy made a distant sign of acknowledgment to their homage,
+and the next minute stood outside the shop in the dark little street
+and the mild, still air. I think, even at that minute, with the
+strange, startling inappropriateness of license which thoughts give
+themselves, there flashed across her a sense of the ironical contrast
+of things without and within her; without, Venice and her historical
+past and her monumental glory; within, a trembling little heart and
+present danger and a burden of dishonour. But that was only a flash;
+the needs of the minute banished all thinking that was not connected
+with action; and the moment's business was to get her father home. She
+had no thought now for the picturesque revealings of the moonlight and
+obscurings of the shadow. Yet she was conscious of them, in that sharp
+flash of contrast.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At getting upon his feet and out into the air and gloom of the little
+street, Mr. Copley's head was very contused; or else he had taken more
+wine than his daughter guessed. He was not fit to guide himself, or to
+take care of her. As he seemed utterly at a standstill, Dolly naturally
+and unconsciously set her face to go the way she had come; for one or
+two turnings at least she was sure of it. Before those one or two
+turnings were made, however, she was shocked and scared to find that
+her father's walk was wavering; he swayed a little on his feet. The
+street was empty; and if it had not been, what help could Dolly ask
+for? A pang of great terror shot through her. She took her father's
+arm, to endeavour to hold him fast; a task rather too much for her
+little hands and slight frame; and feeling that in spite of her he
+still moved unsteadily, and that she was an insufficient help, Dolly's
+anguish broke forth in a cry; natural enough in its unreasoningness&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"O father, don't!&mdash;remember, I am all alone!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+How much was in the tone of those last words Dolly could not know; they
+hardly reached Mr. Copley's sense, though they went through and through
+another hearer. The next minute Rupert stood before the pair, and was
+offering his arm to Mr. Copley. Not trusting his patron, in the
+circumstances, to take care of his young mistress, Rupert had disobeyed
+her orders so far as to keep the two figures in sight; he had watched
+them from one turning to another, and had seen that his help was
+needed, even before he heard Dolly's cry. Then, with a spring, he was
+there. Mr. Copley leaned now upon his arm, and Dolly fell behind,
+thankful unspeakably for the relief. She knew by this time that she
+could never have found her way; and it was plain her father could not.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Rupert," said Mr. Copley, half recognising the assistance afforded
+him, "you're a good fellow, and always in the way when you aren't
+wanted, by George!" But he leaned on his arm heavily.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly followed close; she could not well keep beside them; and felt in
+that hour more thoroughly lonely perhaps than at any other of her life
+before or after. Rupert was a relief; and yet so the shame was
+increased. She stepped along through moonlight and shadow, feeling that
+light was gone out of her pathway of life for ever, as far as this
+world was concerned. What was left, when her father was lost to
+her?&mdash;her father!&mdash;and not by death; <I>that</I> would not have been to lose
+him utterly; but now his very identity was gone. Her father, whom all
+her life she had loved; manly, frank, able, active, taking the lead in
+every society where she had seen him, making other men do his bidding
+always, until the passion of gaining and the lust of drink got hold of
+him! Was it the same, that figure in front of her, leaning on
+somebody's arm and glad to lean, and going with lame, unsteady gait
+whither he was led, so like the way his mental course had been lately?
+Was that her father? The bitterness of Dolly's feeling it is impossible
+to put into words. Tears could bring no relief, and nature did not
+summon them to the impossible service. The fire at her heart would have
+burnt them up; for there was a strange passion of resistance and sense
+of wrong mixed with Dolly's bitter pain. The way was not short, and it
+seemed threefold the length it was; every step was so hard, and the
+crowd of thoughts was so disproportionately great.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They were rather ruminating thoughts of grief and pain, than
+considerative of what was to be done. For the first, the thing was to
+get Mr. Copley home. Dolly did not look beyond that. She was glad to
+find herself arrived at St. Mark's again; and presently they were all
+three in the gondola. Mr. Copley leaned in a corner, laid his head
+against a cushion, and slept, or seemed to sleep. The other two were as
+silent; but I think both felt at the moment as if they would never
+sleep again. Rupert's face was in shadow; he watched Dolly's face which
+was in light. She forgot it could be watched; her eyes stared into the
+moonshine, not seeing it, or looking through it; the sweet face was so
+very grave that the watcher felt his heart ache. Not the gentle gravity
+of young maidenhood, looking into the vague light; but the anxious,
+searching gaze of older life looking into the vague darkness. Rupert
+did not dare speak to her, though he longed. What would he not have
+given for the right and the power to comfort! But he knew he had
+neither. He had sense enough not to try.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was customary for Mr. Copley, after he had been late out at night,
+to keep to his room until a late hour the next morning; so Dolly knew
+what she had to expect. It suited her very well this time, for she must
+think what she would say to her father when she next saw him. She took
+care that a cup of coffee such as he liked was sent him; and then,
+after her own slight breakfast, sat down to plan her movements. So
+Rupert found her, with her Bible in her lap, but not reading; sitting
+gazing out upon the bright waters of the lagoon. He came up to her,
+with a depth of understanding and sympathy in his plain features which
+greatly dignified them.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Does that help?" said he, glancing at the book in Dolly's lap.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"<I>This?</I>" said Dolly. "What other help in the world is there?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Friends?" suggested Rupert.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, you were a great help last night," Dolly said slowly. "But there
+come times&mdash;and things&mdash;when friends cannot do anything."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And then&mdash;what does the book do?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The book?" Dolly repeated again. "O Rupert! it tells of the Friend
+that can do everything!" Her eyes flushed with tears and she clasped
+her hands as she spoke.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What?" said Rupert; for her action was eloquent, and he was curious;
+and besides he liked to make her talk.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly looked at him and saw that the question was serious. She opened
+her book.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Listen. 'Let your conversation be without covetousness; and be content
+with such things as ye have; for He hath said, I will never leave thee
+nor forsake thee. So that we may boldly say, The Lord is my helper, and
+I will not fear what man shall do unto me.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That makes pretty close work of it. Can you get hold of that rope? and
+how much strain will it bear?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I believe it will bear anything," said Dolly slowly and thoughtfully;
+"if one takes hold with both hands. I guess the trouble with me is,
+that I only take hold with one."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do you do with the other hand?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Stretch it out towards something else, I suppose. For, see here,
+Rupert;&mdash;'Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on
+Thee; because he trusteth in Thee.'&mdash;I am just ashamed of myself!" said
+Dolly, breaking down and bursting into tears.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What for?" said Rupert.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Because I do not trust so."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I should think it would be very difficult."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It ought not to be difficult to trust a friend whose truth you know.
+There! that has done me good," said the girl, sitting up and brushing
+away the tears. "Rupert, if there is anything you want to see or to do
+here in Venice, be about it; for I think we shall go off to Rome at
+once."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She told the same thing to St. Leger when he came in; and having got
+rid of both the young men set herself anew to consider how she should
+speak to her father. And consideration helped nothing; she could not
+tell; she had to leave it to the moment to decide.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was late in the morning, later than the usual hour for the déjeuner
+à la fourchette, which Mr. Copley liked. He did not want anything
+to-day, his wife said; and she and Dolly and Rupert had finished their
+meal. Dolly contrived then that her mother should go out under Rupert's
+convoy, to visit the curiosity shop again, (nothing else would have
+tempted her), and to make one or two little purchases for which Dolly
+gave Rupert the means. When they were fairly off, she went to her
+father's room; he was up and dressed, she knew. She went with a very
+faint heart, not knowing in the least what she would do or say, but
+feeling that something must be said and done, both.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Copley was sitting listlessly in a chair by the window; miserable
+enough, Dolly could see by the gloomy blank of his face; looking out,
+and caring for nothing that he saw. His features showed traces of the
+evening before, in red eyes and pale cheeks; and yet worse, in the
+spiritless, abased expression, which was more than Dolly could bear.
+She had come in very quietly, but when she saw this she made one spring
+to his side and sank down on the floor before him, hiding her face on
+his knee. Mr. Copley's trembling hand presently lifted her up into his
+arms, and Dolly sat on his knee and buried her face in his breast.
+Neither of them was ready to speak; neither did speak for some time. It
+was Mr. Copley who began.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, Dolly,&mdash;I suppose you will say to me that I have broken my word?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"O father!"&mdash;it came in a sort of despair from Dolly's heart,&mdash;"what
+shall we do?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Copley had certainly no answer ready to this question; and his next
+words were a departure.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How came you to be at that place last night?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I was afraid you were there"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How did you dare come poking about through all those crooked ways, and
+at that time of night?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Father," Dolly said, without lifting her head, "that was nothing. I
+dared nothing, compared with what you dared!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I? You are mistaken, child. I did not run the slightest risk. In fact,
+I was only doing what everybody else does. You make much of nothing, in
+your inexperience."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Father," said Dolly, with a great effort, "you promised me. And when a
+man cannot keep his promise"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She had meant to be perfectly quiet; she had begun very calmly; but at
+that word, suddenly, her calmness failed her. It was too much; and with
+a sort of wailing cry, which in its forlornness reached and wrung even
+Mr. Copley's nerves, she broke into a terrible passion of weeping.
+Terrible! young hearts ought never to know such an agony; and never,
+never should such an agony be known for the shame or even the weakness
+of a father. The hand appointed to shield, the love which ought to
+shelter,&mdash;when the blow comes from <I>that</I> quarter, it finds the heart
+bare and defenceless indeed, and comes so much the harder in that it
+comes from so near. No other more distant can give such a stroke. And
+to the young heart, unaccustomed to sorrow, new to life, not knowing
+how many its burdens and how heavy; not knowing on the other hand the
+equalising, tempering effects of time; the first great pain comes
+crushing. The shoulders are not adjusted to the burden, and they feel
+as if they must break. Dolly's sobs were so convulsive and racking that
+her father was startled and shocked. What had he done? Alas, the man
+never knows what he has done; he cannot understand how women die,
+before their time, that death of the heart which is out of the range of
+masculine nature.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dolly!&mdash;Dolly!" Mr. Copley cried, "what is the matter? Don't, Dolly,
+if you love me. My child, what have I done? Don't you know <I>everybody</I>
+takes a little wine? Are you wiser than all the world?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You promised, father!" Dolly managed to say.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Perhaps I promised too much. You see, Dolly,&mdash;<I>don't</I> cry so!&mdash;a man
+must do as the rest of the world do. It isn't possible to live a
+separate life, as you would have me. It would make me ridiculous. It
+would not do. There's no harm in a little wine, child."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Father, you promised!" Dolly repeated, clinging to him. She was not
+shrinking away; her arms of love were wrapped round his neck as
+tenderly as even in old childish days; they had power over Mr. Copley,
+power which he could not quite resist nor break away from. He returned
+their pressure, he even kissed her, feeling, I am happy to say, a
+little ashamed of himself.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You don't want me to be ridiculous, Dolly?" he repeated, not knowing
+what to say.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+What should she answer to that? No, she did not want him to be
+ridiculous; and as he spoke she recalled the staggering, impotent
+figure of last night, in its unmanly feebleness and senseless idiocy. A
+sense of the difficulty of her task and the vanity of her
+representations came over Dolly; it gave her new food for tears, but
+the present effect was to make her stop them. I suppose despair does
+not weep. Dolly was not despairing, either.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What shall we do, father?" she asked, ignoring all his remarks and
+suggestions.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do, Dolly? About what?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't you think we will not stay any longer in Venice?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"For all I care! Where, then?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To Rome, father?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I thought you were to be in Rome at Christmas?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is not so very long till Christmas."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is your mother agreed?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She will be, if you say so."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If it pleases you, Dolly&mdash;I don't care."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And, father, dear father! won't you keep your promise to me? What is
+to become of us, father?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Some bitter tears flowed again as she said this quietly; but Mr. Copley
+knew they were flowing, and he had an intuitive sense that they were
+bitter. They embarrassed him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll make a bargain, Dolly," he said after a pause. "I'll do what you
+want of me&mdash;anything you want&mdash;if you'll marry St. Leger."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But, father, I have not made up my mind to like him enough for that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You will like him well enough. If you were to marry him you would be
+devoted to him. I know you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think the devotion ought to come first."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nonsense. That is romantic folly. Novels are one thing, and real life
+is another."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I daresay; but do you object to people's being a little romantic?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"When it interferes with their bread and butter, I do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Father, if you would drink no wine, we could all of us have as much
+bread and butter as we choose."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are always harping on that!" said Mr. Copley, frowning.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Because, our whole life depends on it, father. You cannot bear wine as
+some people can, I suppose; the habit is growing on you; mother and I
+are losing you, we do not even have but half a sight of you;
+and&mdash;father&mdash;we are wanting necessaries. But I do not think of <I>that</I>,"
+Dolly went on eagerly; "I do not care; I am willing to live on dry
+bread, and work for the means to get it; but I cannot bear to lose you,
+father! I cannot bear it!&mdash;and it will kill mother. She does not know;
+I have kept her from knowing; she knows nothing about what happened
+last night. O father, do not let her know! Would anything pay you for
+breaking her heart and mine? Is wine more to you than we are? O father,
+father! let us go home to America, and quit all these people and
+associations that make it so hard for you to be yourself. I want you to
+be your dear old self, father! Your dear self, that I love"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly's voice was choked, and she sobbed. Mr. Copley was not quite
+insensible. He was silent a good while, hearing her sobs, and then he
+groaned; a groan partly of real feeling, partly, I am afraid, of desire
+to have the scene ended; the embarrassment and the difficulty disposed
+of and behind him. But he thought it had been an expression of deeper
+feeling solely.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll do anything you like, my dear child," he said. "Only stop crying.
+You break my heart."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Father, will you really do something if I ask you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Anything! Only stop crying so."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then, father, write and sign it, that you will not ever touch wine.
+Rupert and I have taken such a pledge already."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What is the use of writing and signing? I don't see. A man can let it
+alone without that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He can, if he wants to let it alone; but if he is very much tempted,
+then the pledge is a help."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What did you and Rupert do such a thing as that for?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wanted to save him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Make <I>him</I> take the pledge, then. Why you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How could I ask him to do what I would not do myself? But I've done
+it, father; now will you join us?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Pshaw!" said Mr. Copley, displeased. "Now you have incapacitated
+yourself from appearing as others do in society. How would you refuse,
+if you were asked to drink wine with somebody at a dinner-table?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very easily. I should think all women would refuse," said Dolly.
+"Father, will you join us, and let us all be unfashionable and happy
+together?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did St. Leger pledge himself?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have not asked him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I will if he will."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"For him, father, and not for me?" said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ask him," said Mr. Copley. "I'll do as he does."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Father, you might set an example to him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll let him set the example for me," said Mr. Copley rising. And
+Dolly could get no further.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+But it was settled that they were to leave Venice. What was to be
+gained by this step Dolly did not quite know; yet it was a step, that
+was something. It was something, too, to get out of the neighbourhood
+of that wine-shop, of which Dolly thought with horror. What might await
+them in Rome she did not know; at least the bonds of habit in
+connection with a particular locality would be broken. And Venice was
+grown odious to her.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap24"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+PAST GREATNESS.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+They went to Rome.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly had little comfort from her conversation with her father. She
+turned over in her mind his offer to quit wine if St. Leger would do
+the same. St. Leger would not give any such pledge, Dolly was very
+clearly aware; except, indeed, she paid him for it with another pledge
+on her part. With such a bribe she believed he would do it, or anything
+else that might be asked of him. Smooth and quiet as the young
+gentleman was outwardly, he had a power of self-will; as was shown by
+his persistence in following her. Dolly was obliged to confess that his
+passion was true and strong. If she would have him, no doubt, at least
+she believed there was no doubt, Lawrence would agree to be
+unfashionable and drink no more wine to the day of his death for her
+sake. If he agreed to that, her father would agree to it; both of them
+would be saved from that danger. Dolly pondered. Ought she to pay the
+price? Should she sacrifice herself, and be the wife of a rich banker,
+and therewith keep her father and all of them from ruin? Very soberly
+Dolly turned the whole thing over in her mind; back and forward; and
+always she was certain on one point,&mdash;that she did not want to be
+Lawrence's wife; and to her simple, childlike perceptions another thing
+also seemed clear; that it is a bad way to escape one wrong by doing
+another. She always brought up with that. And so, she could not venture
+and did not venture to attack Lawrence on the wine question. She knew
+it would be in vain.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Meanwhile, they were in Rome. Two of the gentlemen being skilled
+travellers, they had presently secured a very tolerable apartment; not
+in the best situation, indeed, but so neither was it of the most
+expensive sort; and clubbing their resources, were arranged comfortably
+enough to feel quite at home. And immediately Dolly began to use her
+advantage and see Rome. Mrs. Copley had no curiosity to see anything;
+all her wish was to sit at her window or by her fire and talk to her
+husband; and as Mr. Copley shared her lack of enterprise and something
+withheld him from seeking either gambling or drinking-shops, Dolly
+could go out with an easy mind, and give herself undividedly to the
+intense enjoyment of the place and the time. Yes, undividedly; for she
+was eighteen, and at eighteen one has a power of, for a time, throwing
+off trouble. Trouble was on her, she knew; and, nevertheless, when
+Dolly found herself in the streets of Rome, or in presence of its
+wonders of art or marvels of antiquity, she and trouble parted company.
+She forgot all but the present; or even if she did not forget, she
+disregarded. Her spirit took a momentary leap above all that ordinarily
+held it down, and revelled, and rejoiced, and expanded, and rose into a
+region of pure exquisite life. Rupert, who always accompanied her, was
+rather opening the eyes of his mind, and opening them very wide indeed,
+and as is the case with eyes newly opened, not seeing very clearly; yet
+taking great pleasure in what he did see. St. Leger, her other
+companion, had a certain delight in seeing Dolly's enjoyment; for
+himself, alas! it was too plain that art said little to him, and
+antiquity nothing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+One afternoon, when they had been perhaps a week in Rome, Dolly
+declared her intention of taking Rupert to the Museo Capitolino.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You were there the day before yesterday," St. Leger remarked, rousing
+himself from a comfortable position and a magazine.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, thank you; and now I am going to do for Mr. Babbage what you did
+for me; introduce him to a scene of delights. You know, one should
+always pass on a good thing that one has received."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't you want me?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, indeed! I wouldn't bore you to that extent."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But you will allow me, for my own pleasure," said Lawrence, getting up.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, I will not. You have done your part, as far as that museum is
+concerned; and besides, I have heard that a lady must not dance too
+many dances with one gentleman. It is Mr. Babbage's turn."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And with a merry little nod of her head, and smile at the irresolute
+St. Leger, Dolly went off. Rupert was generally of the party when they
+went sight-seeing, but it had happened that it was not the case when
+the visit to the Capitoline Museum had been made.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are not going to this place for my sake?" Rupert said as Dolly
+hurried along.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"For your sake, and for my sake," she answered. "I was there for about
+two minutes, and I should like two days. O Rome, Rome! I <I>never</I> saw
+anything like Rome."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why?" said Rupert. "It hasn't got hold of me so."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Wait, and it will. I seem to be touching the history of the world
+here, till I don't know whereabouts in the ages I am. Is this the
+nineteenth century?&mdash;Here we are."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Half an hour later, the two found themselves in the Hall of the
+Emperors.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you know Roman history, Rupert?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A little. Not much. Not far down, you see. I know about Romulus and
+Remus."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you know more than anybody else knows. That's a myth. Look here.
+Let us begin at the beginning. Do you know this personage?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Julius Caesar? Yes. I have read about him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did you ever read Plutarch's Lives? They used to be my delight when I
+was a little girl. I was very fond of Julius Caesar then. I know better
+now. But I am glad to see him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, wasn't he a great man?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very. So the world says. I have come to perceive, Rupert, that that
+don't mean much."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why not? I thought the world was apt to be right."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In some things. No doubt this man <I>might</I> have been a very great man;
+he had power; but what good did he do to the world? He just worked for
+himself. I tell you what the Bible says, Rupert; 'The things which are
+highly esteemed among men, are abomination in the sight of God.' Look,
+and you will see it is so."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you go by <I>that</I>&mdash;&mdash; Who is this next man? Augustus. He was the
+first Roman emperor, wasn't he?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And all around here are ranged his successors. What a set they were!
+and they look like it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How do you know they are likenesses?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Know from coins. Do you know, almost all these men, the emperors, died
+a violent death? Murdered, or else they killed themselves. That speaks,
+don't it, for the beauty and beneficence of their reigns, and the
+loveliness of their characters?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know them very well. Some of them were good men, weren't they?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"See here, Nos. 11 and 12. Here are Caligula and Claudius. Caligula was
+murdered. Then Claudius was poisoned by his wife Agrippina; there she
+is, No. 14. She was killed by her son Nero; and Nero killed himself;
+and No. 13, there is another wife of Claudius whom he killed before he
+married Agrippina; and here, No. 17, was a wife of Nero whom he killed
+by a kick. And that is the way, my dear Rupert, they went on. Don't you
+wish you had belonged to the Imperial family? There's greatness for
+you!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But there were some really great ones, weren't there? Which are they?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, let us see. Come on. Here is Trajan. He was not a brute; he was
+a philosopher and a sceptic. He was quite a distinguished man in the
+arts of war and peace. But he ordered that the profession of
+Christianity should be punished with death. He legalised all succeeding
+persecutions, by his calm enactments. Do you think he was a great man
+in the sight of God?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Were the Christians persecuted in his reign?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Certainly. In Asia Minor, under the good governor Pliny. Simon the son
+of Cleophas was crucified at that time."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Perhaps Trajan did not know any better."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He might have known better, though. Ignorance is no plea that will
+stand, when people have the means of knowledge. But come on. Here is
+Marcus Aurelius; here, Rupert, Nos. 37 and 38. He was what the world
+calls a very great man. He was cultivated, and wise, and strong, a
+great governor, and for a heathen a good man; and how he treated the
+Christians! East and west, and at Rome here itself, how they were
+sought out and tortured and killed! What do you think the Lord thinks
+of such a great man as that? Remember the Bible says of His people, 'He
+that toucheth you, toucheth the apple of His eye.' What do you think
+the Lord thought of Marcus Aurelius' greatness? Look here, Rupert&mdash;here
+is Decius, and here is Diocletian."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Were they persecutors too?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Great. It is so strange to look at their faces here, in this museum,
+after so many centuries. I suppose they will stand here, maybe, till
+the end of the world. Come away&mdash;we have been so long in this gallery
+we have not left time enough for the other rooms."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They went to the Hall of the Gladiator; and there Dolly studied the
+figure which gives name to the place, with a kind of rapt intensity.
+She described to her companion the meaning of the marble; but it was
+not the same thing to them both. Dolly was lost in delighted
+contemplation. Rupert looked on with a kind of incredulous scorn.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You don't care for it?" she said suddenly, catching a sight of his
+face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What's it good for?" said Rupert. "This ain't a likeness of anybody,
+is it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is a likeness of a great many people. Hundreds and hundreds died in
+such fashion as that, for the pleasure of the Roman people."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, would it have been any satisfaction to you to see it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, no! I hope not."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then why do you like to see it here now?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't! this is not reality, but an image."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I can't see why you should like to look at the image, when you
+couldn't bear the reality."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, Rupert"&mdash;&mdash; Dolly began, but her further words were cut off.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Met again!" said a soft voice. "You here! we did not know you would be
+in Rome so soon."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dolly!" exclaimed Christina, who followed her mother. "That's
+delightful. Dolly Copley in Rome! and in the Museo Capitolino. Who is
+with you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We are all here," said Dolly, smiling.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, yes, in Rome, of course; but you are not in the museum alone?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly presented Mr. Babbage.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And how is your mother?" Mrs. Thayer went on. "Better! I am so glad. I
+thought she would be better in Italy. And what have you done with your
+handsome <I>cavaliero servente</I>&mdash;Mr. St. Leger?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I left him at home with a magazine, in which I <I>think</I> there was a
+story," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Impossible! his gallantry allowed you to come alone?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not his gallantry, but perhaps his sense of weakness," Dolly answered.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of weakness, my dear? Is he a weak young man? He does not look it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very good muscular power, I daresay; but when we talk of power of
+will, you know 'weakness' is relative. I forbade him, and he did not
+dare to come."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You forbade him! and he obeyed? But, Christina, I do not think you
+have Mr. Shubrick in such training as that. Would he obey, if you gave
+him orders?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Probably the relations are different," said Dolly, obliging herself to
+keep a grave face. "I am in a happy independence of Mr. St. Leger which
+allows me to command him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Independence!" said Mrs. Thayer, with an air half curious, half
+confounded, which was a severe trial to Dolly's risible muscles. "I
+know young ladies are very independent in these days&mdash;I don't know
+whether it is a change for the better or not&mdash;but I do not think
+Christina would boast of her independence of <I>her</I> knight-errant."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said Dolly. "The cases are different&mdash;as I said. Mr. St. Leger
+does not stand in that particular relation to me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Doesn't he? But, my dear, I hope you haven't quarrelled?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not at all," said Dolly. "We do not like each other well enough to
+quarrel."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But he struck me as a most delightful young man."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I believe he generally makes that impression."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I used to know his father," said Mrs. Thayer. "He was a sad flirt. I
+know, you see, my dear, because I was one myself. I am glad Christina
+does not take after me. But I used to think it was great fun. Is Mr.
+St. Leger anything of a flirt?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have had no opportunity of knowing, ma'am," said Dolly gravely.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, you will bring him to see us? You are all coming to make us a
+visit at our villa, at Sorrento; and Mr. Shubrick is coming; Christina
+wants to show him to you; you know a girl is always proud of her
+conquests; and then we will go everywhere and make you see everything.
+You have just no notion how delightful it is at Sorrento in the spring
+and summer. It's Paradise!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But you are coming first to spend Christmas with me, Dolly," said her
+friend, who until now had hardly been able to get in a word. "I have
+five thousand things to talk to you about. My sailor friend has
+promised to be here too, if he can, and his ship is in the
+Mediterranean somewhere, so I guess he can; and I want you to see him.
+Come and spend Christmas Eve with me&mdash;do! and then we shall have a
+chance to talk before he comes. Of course there would be no chance
+after," she added with a confident smile.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly was not much in a mood for visiting, and scantly inclined to mix
+in the joyous circle which must be breathing so different an atmosphere
+from her own. She doubted besides whether she could leave her watch and
+ward for so long a time as a night and a day. Yet it was pleasant to
+see Christina, and the opportunity to talk over old times was tempting;
+and her friend's instances were very urgent. Dolly at last gave a
+conditional assent; and they parted; Dolly and Rupert taking the way
+home.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is that lady a friend of yours?" Rupert enquired.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The daughter; not the mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The old lady, I meant. She has a mind to know all about us."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She asked me about five hundred and fifty questions, after she quitted
+you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What did you tell her?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I told her what she knew before," said Rupert, chuckling. "Her stock
+of knowledge hasn't grown <I>very</I> much, I guess, by all she got out of
+me. But she tried."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly was silent. After a short pause, Rupert spoke again in quite
+another tone.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Miss Dolly, you've put me in a sort of a puzzle. You said a little
+while ago, or you spoke as if you thought, that all those grand old
+Roman emperors were not after all great men. Then, if <I>they</I> were not
+great, what's a fellow to try for? If a common fellow does his best, he
+will not get to the hundredth or the thousandth part of what those men
+did. Yet you say they were not great. What's the use of my trying, for
+instance, to do anything, or be anything?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What did they do, Rupert?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, you seem to say, nothing! But don't you come to Rome to admire
+what they did?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Some of the things they did, or made. But stand still here, Rupert,
+and look. Do you see the Rome of the Caesars? You see an arch here and
+a theatre there; but the city of those days is buried. It is under our
+feet. The great works of art here, those that were done in their day,
+were not done by them. Do you think it is any good to one of those old
+emperors in the other world&mdash;take the best of them&mdash;is it any good to
+him now that he had some of these splendid buildings erected, or
+marbles carved? Or that his armies conquered the world, and his
+government held order wherever his arms went? If he is happy in the
+presence of God, is it anything to him, now, that we look back and
+admire his work?&mdash;and if he is unhappy, banished that Presence, is it
+anything to him then?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, what <I>is</I> greatness then?" said Rupert. "What is worth a man's
+trying for, if these greatest things are worth nothing?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not think anything is really great or worth while," said Dolly,
+"except those things that God likes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You come back to religion," said Rupert. "I did not mean religion.
+What are those things?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not think anything is worth trying for, Rupert, except the things
+that will last."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What things will last?" said he half impatiently.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Look here," said Dolly. "Step a little this way. Do you see the
+Colosseum over yonder? Who do you think will remember, and do remember,
+that with most pleasure; Vespasian and Titus who built it, or the
+Christians who gave themselves to the lions there for Christ's sake?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes," said Rupert, "of course; but <I>that</I> isn't the thing. There are
+no lions here now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There are lions of another sort," said Dolly, standing still and with
+her eyes fixed upon the wonderful old pile in the distance. "There is
+always work to be done for God, Rupert, and dangers or difficulties to
+be faced; and to the people who face <I>any</I> lions for His sake, there is
+a promise of praise and honour and blessing that will last for ever."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you would make all a man's work to be work for God?" said Rupert,
+not satisfied with this view of the question. "What is to become of all
+the rest of the things that are to be done in the world?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There ought not to be anything else done in the world," said Dolly,
+laughing, as she turned and began to walk on again. "It ought all to be
+done for Him. Merchants ought to make money for His service; and
+lawyers ought to strive to bring God's order between man and man, and
+justice to every one, and that never wrong should be done or oppression
+exercised by anybody. 'Break every yoke, and let the oppressed go
+free.' And soldiers ought to fight for no other reason but to protect
+weaker people from violence and wrong. And so on of everything else.
+And, Rupert, God has promised a city, of His own preparing, for His
+people; it will be a place of delights; and I am thinking of that
+word,&mdash;'Blessed are they that do His commandments; that they may have a
+right to the tree of life, and may enter in through the gates into the
+city.' I don't believe anybody that is left outside will think much of
+what we call greatness in that day."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, the world wouldn't be the world, at that rate," cried Rupert.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Think it wouldn't be altered for the better?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But a few people can't make it like that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Suppose they make only a very little piece of it like that?&mdash;But then
+comes the end, Rupert, and the King's 'Well done!'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you wouldn't have a man make as much as he can of himself," said
+Rupert after a dissatisfied pause.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Certainly I would."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What use?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, to be a better servant to his Master, the best he possibly can;
+and to do more work for Him; the most he can do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It seems to me, Miss Dolly, if you are right, pretty much all the rest
+of the world are wrong."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, Rupert; don't you remember the Bible says that the wrong way is
+the broad way, where almost all the people go?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Rupert's meditations this time held him till they got home.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The days that intervened before Christmas were filled full with
+delightful business. Dolly had her anxieties, it is true; but she was
+in Rome. What could stand against the witchery of the enchantress city?
+Anxieties fell into the background; and with all the healthy, elastic
+spring of her young years Dolly gave herself to the Present and the
+Past, and rejoiced, hour by hour and step by step, in what the Present
+and the Past opened up to her. True, her father and mother hardly
+shared in her pleasure; Mr. Copley's taste was blunted, I fear, for all
+noble enjoyment; and Mrs. Copley cared mainly to be comfortable in her
+home quarters, and to go out now and then where the motley world of
+fashion and of sight-seeing did most congregate. Especially she liked
+to go to the Pincian Hill Sunday afternoon, and watch the indescribable
+concourse of people of all nationalities which is there to be seen at
+that time. But there Dolly would not go.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is very absurd of you, Dolly!" cried her mother, greatly
+disappointed; for she had a pride in seeing the universal attention
+which was drawn to Dolly in every public place. "What harm should there
+be in looking at the beautiful view and hearing music? we are not going
+to <I>do</I> anything."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's the Lord's day, mother," said Dolly, looking up at her
+sorrowfully.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You went to church this morning all right," her mother said. "There is
+no church for you to go to at this time of day, that I know of; and if
+there were, I should think it very ridiculous to go again. If you want
+to think, you could think about good things, I should hope, on the
+Pincian. What is there to hinder you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Only everything I should see and hear, mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Hinder you from thinking about good things!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Hinder me from thinking about anything," said Dolly, laughing a little.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Seriously, Miss Dolly," said Lawrence, who stood by, hat in hand,
+ready to go; the Pincian Hill Sunday evening was something he quite
+approved of;&mdash;"seriously, do you think there is anything <I>wrong</I> in
+sitting up there for an hour or two, and seeing the beautiful sunset
+colours, and hearing the music?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She's a little Puritan," said her father; "and the Puritans were
+always an obstinate set, Lawrence; always, and in every nation and
+people. I wonder why the two things should go together."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What two things, father?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What you call Puritanism and obstinacy."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose because those you call Puritans love the truth," said Dolly;
+"and so hold to it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And do you not think other people, who are not Puritans, also love the
+truth, Miss Dolly?" Lawrence asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't think anybody loves the truth he disobeys," Dolly said with a
+gentle shake of her head.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There!" said her mother. "There's Dolly all over. She is right, and
+nobody else is right. I wonder what she supposes is to become of all
+the rest of the world! Everybody in Rome will be on the Pincian
+to-night except Dolly Copley. And every other mother but me will have
+her daughter with her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In answer to which Dolly kissed her, pulled the strings of her bonnet
+into a prettier bow, and looked at her with sweet, shining eyes, which
+said as plainly as possible without words that Mrs. Copley knew better.
+The party went off, nevertheless; and Lawrence, lingering till the
+others had turned their backs, held out his hand to Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Will you tell me," said he, "as a favour, what you think is the harm
+of what we are doing?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are just robbing the King of heaven and earth," Dolly answered
+gravely.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Robbing! Of what?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of time which He says is His, and of honour which He says ought to be
+His."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'The seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord thy God.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"This is not the seventh; it is the first."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Quibbling, Mr. St. Leger. It is not the seventh from Monday, but it
+<I>is</I> the seventh from Sunday; it is the one day set apart from the
+seven."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And what ought we to do with it? Sabbath means <I>rest</I>, does it not?
+What are we going to do but rest up there on the Pincian? only rest
+most delightfully. You will not rest so here."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose your bodies will rest," said Dolly. "Your minds will have
+most uncommon powers of abstraction if they do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But you are putting yourself out of the world, Dolly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I mean it," said she with a little nod at him. "The Lord's people are
+not of the world, Mr. St. Leger; and the world does not like their
+ways. Never did."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wonder if all Puritans are as quaint as you," said he, kissing the
+hand he held. But then he went off to the Pincian.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And there, surely, was a most wonderful, rich, and varied scene; a
+concourse of people of all characters and nationalities&mdash;except the
+small party in the world which Dolly represented; a kaleidoscope view
+of figures and costumes, classes and callings, most picturesque, most
+diversified, most changeful. There were the Thayers, amongst others;
+and as they joined company with the Copley party, of course Mrs.
+Copley's pleasure was greatly increased; for in a crowd it is always
+pleasant to know somebody. Mr. Copley knew several people. Mrs. Thayer
+had leisure to tell and ask whatever she had a mind with Mrs. Copley,
+and to improve her acquaintance with Mr. St. Leger; who on his part
+managed to get some conversation with the beautiful Christina. It was a
+distinction to be talking to such a beauty, and he felt it so; and
+Christina on her part was not insensible to the fact that the young man
+was himself very handsome, and unexceptionably well dressed, and the
+heir to many thousands; therefore a person of importance. The time on
+the Pincian Hill that evening was very pleasantly spent; and so Mrs.
+Copley told her daughter on their return.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mrs. Thayer said she was very sorry not to see you," Mrs. Copley added.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am much obliged to her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are not obliged to her at all, for she didn't mean it. That's what
+you get by staying behind."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What?" said Dolly, dimpling up.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That woman had it all her own way; talked to Mr. St. Leger, and let
+him talk to her daughter. You see, Dolly, Christina is very handsome
+when you are not by."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mother, she is at any time. She's beautiful. You must not set me up in
+comparison with her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, she's engaged," said Mrs. Copley. "I wish you were. You let
+everything hang by the eyelids, Dolly; and some fine morning what you
+look for won't be there."
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap25"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XXV.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHRISTMAS EVE.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Christmas Eve came, and Rupert attended Dolly to the Piazza di Spagna,
+where her friends had apartments in a great hotel. Dolly was quite
+prepared to enjoy herself; the varied delights of the foregoing days
+had lifted her out of the quiet, patient mood of watchful endurance
+which of late had been chronic with her, and her spirits were in a flow
+and stir more fitted to her eighteen years. She was going through the
+streets of Rome! the forms of the ages rose before her mind's eye
+continually, and before her bodily eye appeared here and there tokens
+and remains which were like the crumblings of those ages; tangible
+proofs that once they had been, and that Rome was still Rome. Dolly
+drew breaths of pleasure as she and Rupert walked along.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are going to stay all night?" said Rupert.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, they want me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And they have asked nobody but you?" said Rupert, who was not
+conventional.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They wanted nobody but me. It is not a party; it is my old
+school-friend only, who wants to show me her future husband."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Rupert grunted his intelligence, and at the same time his
+mystification. "What for?" he asked. And Dolly laughed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know! It is natural, I suppose, to some people. Here we are.
+Good night."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The Thayers were very well lodged indeed. Dolly found herself in really
+charming rooms, well furnished and well lighted. She was joyfully
+received, and Christina led her forthwith through saloon and
+dining-room to the sanctuary of her own chamber. A certain feeling of
+contrast began to fall upon Dolly already, Christina looked so very
+fresh and fair and well kept; the lightest veil of anxiety had never
+shadowed her bloom; the most remote cloud of embarrassment or need had
+never risen on her horizon. Careless, happy, secure, her mind knew no
+burden. It made Dolly feel the pressure of her own; and yet she was
+glad, for a little, to get into this atmosphere of peace and
+confidence, and enjoy it even by the contrast. Christina's room looked
+like a curiosity shop. It was littered with recent purchases; all sorts
+of pretty things, useful and useless.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"One cannot help buying," she said, excusing herself. "I see something
+at every step that I want; and I must get it when I see it, or I may
+never see it again, you know. It is great fun, but sometimes I almost
+get tired. Here, dear, I can lay your things here. Isn't my fire nice?
+Now sit down and warm yourself. It's too delightful to have you! It is
+like a bit of home, and a bit of old times. Those old school days were
+pleasant?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very pleasant!" said Dolly, sitting down and looking into the queer
+but bright fire of small sticks which burned in Christina's chimney.
+"Very pleasant! I was with my dear Aunt Hal, in Philadelphia."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But these days are better, Dolly," Miss Thayer went on. "That wasn't
+much compared to this."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know," said Dolly. "There was no care in those times."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Care?" exclaimed Christina, as if she did not know the meaning of the
+word. "What care have you, Dolly? I have none, except the care to make
+my money buy all I want&mdash;which it won't, so I may as well make up my
+mind to it, and I do. What have you been getting in Rome?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, more pleasure than I knew so many days could hold," said Dolly,
+laying some of the sticks of the fire straight.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Isn't it wonderful? I think there's nothing like Rome. Unless,
+perhaps, Paris."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Paris!" said Dolly. "What's at Paris?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah, you don't know it, or you wouldn't ask! Everything, my dear. Rome
+has a good deal, certainly, but Paris has <I>everything</I>. Now tell
+me,&mdash;are you engaged?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I? No. Of course not."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't see why it's of course. Most people are at one time or
+another; and I didn't know but your time had come."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said Dolly. "Neither the time nor the man. I've come to hear
+about yours."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If he's good, you'll see him; the man, I mean. He promised to be with
+us at Christmas, if he could; and he always keeps his promises."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's a good thing," said Dolly. .
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ye-s," said Christina, "that is, of course, a good thing. One likes to
+have promises kept. But it is possible to have too much of a good
+thing."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not of keeping promises!" said Dolly in unfeigned astonishment.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know," said Christina. "Sandie is so fixed in everything; he
+holds to his opinions and his promises and his expectations; and he
+holds a trifle too fast."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He has a right to hold to his expectations, surely," said Dolly,
+laughing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not too much," said Christina. "He has no right to expect everybody to
+keep their promises as precisely as he does his! People aren't made
+alike."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No; but honour is honour."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Come, now, Dolly," said Christina laughing in her turn, "you are
+another! You are just a little bit precise, like my Sandie. You cannot
+make all the world alike, if you try; and he can't."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am not going to try, and I think it would be a very stupid world if
+I could do it; but nobody ought to raise <I>expectations</I> he is not
+prepared to gratify."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Like a sentence out of a book!" cried Christina. "But Sandie is the
+most unchangeable person; he will not take any views of anything but
+the views he has always taken; he is as fixed as the rock of Gibraltar,
+and almost as distinct and detached from the rest of the world."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And don't you like that?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No; confess I do not. I'd like him to come down a little from his high
+place and mix with the rest of us mortals."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What expectations does he indulge which you are not willing to meet?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's the very thing!" cried Christina, in her turn stooping to
+arrange the little sticks and pile more on; "he is unreasonable."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Wants me to marry him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is that unreasonable?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes! till things are ready for such a step, and I am ready."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What things?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dolly, he is only the first officer of his ship. He was distinguished
+in the last war, and he has the prospect of promotion. I don't want to
+marry him till he is a captain."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why?" said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why?&mdash;Don't you understand? He would have a better position then, and
+better pay; and could give me a better time generally; and mamma thinks
+we ought to wait. And I like waiting. It's better fun, I do think, to
+be engaged than to be married. I <I>know</I> I shouldn't have my head near
+so much if I was married to Sandie. I do just as I like now; for mamma
+and I are always of a mind."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And are not you and Mr. Shubrick of a mind?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not about this," said Christina, getting up from the hearth, and
+laughing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Pray, if one may ask, how long have you and he been waiting already?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, <I>he</I> thinks it is a great while; but what is the harm of waiting?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, how long is it, Christina?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dolly, we were engaged very young. It was before I left school; one
+summer when I was home for the vacation. I was sixteen; that is four
+years ago, and more."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Four years!" cried Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes. Of course we were too young then to think of marrying. He was
+home on furlough, and I was home for the vacation; and our houses were
+near together; and so we made it up. His people were not very well off,
+but mine were; so there was nothing in the way, and nobody objected
+much; only mother said we must wait."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What are you waiting for now, Christina?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I told you. I am in no hurry, for my part. I want Sandie to get his
+ship; and in the meanwhile it is just as nice to be as we are. We see
+each other when we can; and Italy is Italy; and I am very contented.
+Unfortunately, Sandie isn't."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How long do you propose to go on waiting?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know. Oh, I don't know! and I don't care. What is the harm of
+waiting?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That depends on what you promise yourselves in being married."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dolly," said Christina thoughtfully, "I don't promise myself anything
+much better than I have got now. If Sandie would only be content, I
+could go on so for ever."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And not be married?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Besides, Dolly, I don't want to keep house in a small way. I do not!
+and if I married a lieutenant in the navy, I couldn't do anything else.
+You see, Sandie would not live upon papa's money; though papa would do
+anything for me; but Sandie won't; and on <I>his</I> means we should live on
+a very small scale indeed."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But you would have enough?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Enough for what? We should have enough to eat. But, Dolly, I do not
+like to have to think of economy. I have never been used to it. Look at
+my room; see the things I have got together these last few days. Look
+here&mdash;this is a ring I want you to wear for me. Isn't it delicious? It
+is as old as the best time of cameo-cutting, they say, but I do not
+remember when that was; it's rather large for a lady's ring, but it is
+an undoubted beauty. Jupiter's eagle, with the thunderbolts. Just look
+at the plumage of the bird,&mdash;and its fierce eye!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly was greatly delighted. Of all the pretty things she had seen
+during the weeks past, she had bought nothing, save one or two bits for
+her mother. This gift was vastly more to Dolly than Christina could
+imagine. She had so literally everything she wanted, that no further
+acquisition could give her great pleasure. It lacked the enhancement of
+difficulty and rarity. I suppose the ring was more to Dolly than her
+whole roomful beside to Christina. It was in truth a very exquisite
+cameo. Dolly put it on her finger and looked at it in different lights,
+and admired it and enjoyed it hugely; while at the same time it gave an
+odd grace of setting-off to her simple dress. Dolly was in a plain
+black silk, with no adornment at all, until she put the ring on. Unless
+her quaint old cable chain could be called such. <I>That</I> Dolly always
+wore. She was a sweet, quaint figure, illuminated by the firelight, as
+Christina observed her; girlish and graceful, with a fair face and
+beautiful hair; the sober dress and the true womanly eyes making a
+certain hidden harmony, and the cameo setting a seal of daintiness and
+rareness to the whole. Christina was seized with admiration that had a
+good deal of respect blended with it of a sudden.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You don't agree with me, Dolly," she said after a little, when Dolly's
+thanks and the beauty of the ring had been sufficiently discussed, and
+a pause had brought the thoughts of both back to the former subject.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do you want, Christina?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I just want to be happy and comfortable," said the girl, "as I always
+have been. I don't want to come down to pinching. Is that unreasonable?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You would not have to pinch, Christina."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, I should; to live like the rest of the world."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are you obliged to do that?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Live like the rest of the world? Yes, or be out of the world."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I thought you were a Christian," said Dolly softly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A Christian! Yes, so I am. What has that got to do with it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A good deal, I should say. Tiny, you cannot follow Christ and be like
+the world."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't want to be like the world, in bad things; but I mean things
+that are not bad. One must be like the world in some ways, if one can.
+Don't you set up for being any better than me, Dolly, for I won't stand
+it; we are all really just alike."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The world and Christians?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes; in some things."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ways of living?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes,&mdash;in some ways."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Christina, did you use to think so in old times?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I was young then; I did not know the world. You have <I>got</I> to do as
+the world do, in a measure, Dolly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly was silent a bit. She too, on her part, observed her friend. Fair
+and handsome she was; very handsome; with the placid luxuriance of
+nature which has never known shocks or adverse weather. Dolly felt the
+contrast which Christina had also felt, but Dolly went deeper into it.
+She and her friend had drifted apart, not in regard for each other, but
+in life and character; and Dolly involuntarily compared their
+experiences. Trouble to Christina was a word of unknown meaning; to
+herself it was become daily bread. Had that made the difference?
+Christina was living on the surface of things; skimming a smooth sea in
+a gilded gondola; shelter and adornment were all about her life, and
+plenty within. Dolly had been, as it were, cast into the waves and was
+struggling with them; now lifted on a high crest, and now brought down
+to the bottom. Was that how she had learned to know that there were
+wonderful things of preciousness and beauty at the bottom of the sea?
+and must one perhaps be tossed by the storm to find out the value and
+the power of the hand that helps? It did smite Dolly with a kind of
+pain, the sense of Christina's sheltered position and security; the
+thought of the father's arms that were a harbour for her, the
+guardianship that came between her and all the roughness of the world.
+And yet, Dolly along with the bitterness of this, was tasting also
+something else which did not enter Christina's cup of life; a rarer
+sweetness, which she would not have exchanged for Christina's whole
+draught. She had found jewels more precious at the depth of the sea
+than ever Christina could pick up in her pleasure sail along shore.
+Christina, with all her luxury, was missing something, and in danger of
+losing more. Dolly resolved to speak.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you know, Tiny," she said, "if I were Mr. Shubrick, I should not be
+satisfied?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why not?" said Christina carelessly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, you are preferring the world to him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am not! No such thing, Dolly. I love him dearly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"By your own showing, you love&mdash;what shall I say?&mdash;luxuries and
+position, more."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I only want to wait a little."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And, Christina&mdash;I don't believe God likes it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Likes what?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your wanting to do as the world do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How do you know I do?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You said so."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I like to have a nice house, and servants enough, and furniture to
+please me, and means to entertain my friends; and who doesn't? That's
+all I ask for."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And to do what everybody else does."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes," said Christina smiling. "Who don't?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You were on the Pincian Hill Sunday afternoon."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes," said Christina suddenly, looking up. "Why not? Why weren't you
+there?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you will read the last two verses of the fifty-eighth chapter of
+Isaiah, you will know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I can't read in this light," said Christina, looking round the room,
+"and I don't know just where I have laid my Bible. Everybody goes to
+the Pincian. It's no harm."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Would Mr. Shubrick go?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who told you he wouldn't?" said Christina. "I declare, if you are
+going to help him in his crotchets, I won't let you see much of him!
+Sandie!&mdash;he's just an unmanageable, unreasonable bit of
+downrightness.&mdash;And uprightness," she added, laughing. "Dolly, he can
+have his own way aboard ship; but in the world one can't get along so.
+One must conform a little. One must."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Does God like it?" said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What queer questions you ask! This is not a matter of religion; it is
+only living."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly remembered words which came very inconveniently across
+Christina's principles; yet she was afraid of saying too much. She
+reflected that her friend was breathing the soft air of luxury, which
+is not strengthening, and enveloped in a kind of mist of
+conventionality, through which she could not see. With herself it was
+different. She had been thrown out of all that; forced to do battle
+with necessity and difficulty, and so driven to lay hold of the one
+hand of strength and deliverance that she could reach. What wonder if
+she held it fast and held it dear? while Christina seemed hardly to
+have ever felt the need of anything.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now, Dolly, tell me all about yourself," Christina broke in upon her
+meditations.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There isn't much to tell."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What have you been doing?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Painting miniatures&mdash;one of the last things."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, delightful! Copies?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Copies from life. May I take you? and then perhaps, if I succeed, you
+will get me work."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Work!" repeated Christina.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly nodded. "Yes; I want work."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Work!" cried Christina again. "Dolly, you don't mean that you <I>need</I>
+it? Don't say that!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do. That's nothing so dreadful, if only I can get it. I paint
+miniatures for&mdash;I have had ten and I have had twenty pounds," said
+Dolly with a laugh; "but twenty is magnificent. I do not ask twenty."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Christina exclaimed with real sorrow and interest, and was eager to
+know the cause of such a state of things. Dolly could but give her the
+bare facts, not the philosophy of them.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You poor, dear, lovely little Dolly!" cried Christina. "A thought
+strikes me. Why don't you marry this handsome, rich young Englishman?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Again Dolly's face dimpled all over.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The thought don't strike me," she said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But he's very rich, isn't he?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes. That is nothing to me. I wouldn't give my father and mother for
+him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But for your father and mother's sake?"&mdash;There was a knock at the door
+here. "What is it? dinner? Come, Dolly; we'll reason afterwards."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The dinner was excellent. More than the excellence, however, went to
+Dolly's enjoyment. The rare luxury of eating without having to think
+what it cost, and without careful management to make sure that enough
+was left for the next day's breakfast and lunch. It was great luxury!
+and how Dolly felt it, no one there could in the least guess. With
+that, however, as the evening went on and the unwonted soft atmosphere
+of ease was taking effect upon her, Dolly again and again drew the
+contrast between herself and her friend. How sheltered and guarded, and
+fenced in and fenced off, Christina was! how securely and safely
+blooming in the sacred enclosure of fatherly and motherly care! and
+Dolly&mdash;alas, alas! <I>her</I> defences were all down, and she herself,
+delicate and tender, forced into the defender's place, to shield those
+who should have shielded her. It pressed on her by degrees, as the
+sweet unaccustomed feeling of ease and rest made itself more and more
+sensible, and by contrast she realised more and more the absence of it
+in her own life. It pressed very bitterly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The girls had just withdrawn again after dinner to the firelight
+cosiness of Christina's room, when Mrs. Thayer put her head in.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Christina, here's Baron Krämer and Signor Count Villa Bella, come to
+know if you will go to the Sistine Chapel."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mother!&mdash;how you put titles together! Oh, I remember; there is music
+at the Sistine to-night. But Sandie might come."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And might not," said Mrs. Thayer. "You will have time enough to see
+Sandie; and this is Christmas Eve, you know. You may not be in Rome
+next Christmas."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Would you like to go, Dolly?" said Christina doubtfully.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly's heart jumped at the invitation; music and the Sistine Chapel!
+But it did not suit her to make an inconvenient odd one in a partie
+carrée, among strangers. She declined.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I said I would go," said Mrs. Thayer. "Since the gentlemen have come
+to take you, I think you had better. Dolly will not mind losing you for
+an hour or two."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Which Dolly eagerly confirmed; wondering much at the same time to see
+Christina hesitate, when her lover, as she said, might come at any
+minute.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She, too, finally resolved against it, however; and when Mrs. Thayer
+and the gentlemen had gone, and Mr. Thayer had withdrawn, as his custom
+was, to his own apartment, the two girls took possession of the
+forsaken drawing-room. It was a pretty room, very well furnished, and
+like every other part of the present home of the Thayers, running over
+with new possessions in the shape of bits of art or antiquity,
+pictures, and trinkets of every kind, which they were always picking
+up. These were an infinite amusement to Dolly; and Christina was
+good-humouredly pleased with her pleasure.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There's no fun in being in Rome," she remarked, "if you cannot buy all
+you see. I would run away if my purse gave out."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But there is all that you cannot take away," said Dolly. "Think of
+what your mother has gone to this evening."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The Sistine Chapel," said Christina. "I don't really care for it.
+Those stupid old prophets and sybils say nothing to me; though of
+course one must make a fuss about them; and the picture of the Last
+Judgment, <I>I</I> think, is absolutely frightful."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+But here Dolly's eyes arrested her friend.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I tell you the truth; I do think so," she said. "I may tell the
+truth to you. I do not care one pin for Michael Angelo."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mayn't you tell the truth to anybody?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not unless I want to be stared at; and I do not want to be stared at,
+in <I>that</I> way. I am glad I did not go with mamma and those people; if
+Sandie had come, I do not think he would have altogether liked it.
+Though I don't know but it is good to make men jealous. Mamma says it
+is."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh no!" said Dolly. "Not anybody you care for."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do <I>you</I> know?" said Christina archly. Before she could receive
+an answer, then, she had started and sprung up; for the door gently
+opened and on the threshold presented himself a gentleman in naval
+uniform.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sandie!" cried Christina.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Didn't you expect me?" he said with a frank and bright smile.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly had heard enough about this personage to make her very curious;
+and her eyes took keen note of him. She saw a tall, upright figure,
+with that free poise of bearing which is a compound of strength and
+ease; effortless, quiet, graceful, and dignified. Though in part the
+result of a certain symmetry of joints and practised activity in the
+use of them, this sort of bearing refers itself also, and yet more
+surely, to the character, and makes upon the beholder the impression
+again of strength and ease in the mental action. It is not common; it
+struck Dolly in the first five steps he made into the room and in the
+manner of his greeting his betrothed. Out of delicate consideration, I
+suppose, for the company in which they found themselves, he offered
+only a look and a hand-clasp; but Christina jumped up and kissed him.
+She was not short, yet she had to make a little spring to reach his
+lips. And then, quietly putting an arm round her, he gave her her kiss
+back. Christina was rosy when she turned to present him, and both were
+smiling. Letting her go, he bowed low before Christina's friend; low
+and gravely; with such absolute gravity that Dolly almost felt herself
+in the way; as if he wished her not there. Then they sat down around
+the fire; and the same feeling came over her again with a rush. They
+were three; they ought to have been but two; she was one too many; they
+must wish her away. And yet, Christina had asked her precisely and
+specially that she might be one of the company that night. Dolly would
+have wished herself away, nevertheless; only that she was so very much
+interested, and could not. The newcomer excited her curiosity greatly,
+and provoked her observation; and, if the truth must be told, exercised
+also a powerful attraction upon her. He sat before the fire, full in
+her view, and struck Dolly as different from all the people she had
+ever seen in her life. She took glances from time to time, as she
+could, at the fine, frank, manly face, which had an unusual combination
+of the two qualities, frankness and manliness; was much more than
+usually serious, for a man of his age; and yet, she saw now and then,
+could break to tenderness or pleasure or amusement, with a sweetness
+that was winning. Dolly was fascinated, and could not wish herself
+away; why should she, if Christina did not?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In all her life she never forgot the images of two of the people around
+the fire that evening. "Sandie" in the middle, in front of the blaze;
+Christina on the other hand of him. She was in a glistening robe of
+dark blue silk, her fair hair knotted and wound gracefully about her
+head; a beautiful creature; looking at her lover with complacent looks
+of possession and smiles of welcome. Dolly never knew what sort of a
+figure the third was; she could not see herself, and she never thought
+about it. Yet she was a foil to the other two, and they were a foil to
+her, as she sat there at the corner of the hearth on a low cushion, in
+her black dress, and with no ornament about her other than the cameo
+ring. A creature very different from the beauty at the other corner of
+the fireplace; more delicate, more sensitive, more spiritual; oddly and
+inexplicably, more of a child and more of a woman. That's a rare
+mixture. There was something exceedingly sweet and simple in her soft
+brown eyes and her lips; but the eyes had looked at life, the brow was
+grave, and the lips could close into lines of steady will. The delicate
+vessel was the shrine of a soul, as large as it could hold, and so had
+taken on the transparent nobility which belongs to the body when the
+soul is allowed to be dominant. One point of the contrast between the
+two girls was in the character and arrangement of their hair.
+Christina's was smooth, massed, and in a sort massive; Dolly's
+clustered or was knotted about her head, without the least disorder,
+but with a wilfulness of elegant play most harmonious with all the rest
+of her appearance. To characterise the two in a word, Christina was a
+beautiful pearl, and Dolly was a translucent opal.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They sat down round the fire.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, Sandie, you naughty boy," Christina began, "what has kept you
+away all this time?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Duty."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Duty! I told you so, Dolly; this man has only two or three words in
+his vocabulary, which he trots out on all occasions to do general
+service. One of them is 'duty;' another is 'must.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'Must' is the true child of 'duty,'" the gentleman remarked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh no, I don't allow that; it is a marriage connection, which may be
+dissolved by a dispensation."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is that your idea of the marriage connection?" said he with a smile.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But, Sandie! don't you want something to eat?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, thank you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Because you can have it in a moment."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have dined, Christina."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where have you been all this while&mdash;weeks and weeks?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Have you not received any letters from me?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, indeed! but words are so different spoken and written. We have
+been half over Europe. I wish you could have been along! Sandie, we
+went to Baden-Baden."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What for?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"<I>What for!</I> Why, to see it. And we saw the gaming."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How did you like it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is fascinating. I never saw such a scene in my life; the people's
+faces; and then the mad eagerness with which they went at it; old men
+and young men, and women. Oh, it was astonishing to see the women!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What was the effect upon you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know; astonishment."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How did Mrs. Thayer like it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you know, I think she half wanted to try her hand? I was so amazed
+at mother! I told her she must not."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You observe, Miss Copley, Miss Thayer knows the use of one of my
+words."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was a strange, novel, absorbing experience to Dolly. Sitting at one
+corner of the hearth, quiet, and a little as it were a one side, she
+watched the play and the people. She was so delightfully set free for
+the moment from all her home cares and life anxieties. It was like
+getting out of the current and rush of the waves into a nook of a bay,
+where her tossed little skiff could lie still for a bit, and the
+dangers and difficulties of navigation did not demand her attention.
+She rested luxuriously and amused herself with seeing and hearing what
+went on. And to tell the whole truth, Dolly was more than amused; she
+was interested; and watched and listened keenly. Christina was a lovely
+figure in her bright dress and bright beauty, a little excited, and
+happy, not too much; not too much to make Dolly's presence desirable
+and agreeable; just enough to make her more lovely than usual. The
+other figure of the little party was more interesting yet to Dolly. She
+thought he was very peculiar, and unlike any one she had ever seen. His
+repose of demeanour was striking; he seemed to make no unnecessary
+movement; he sat still; neither hand nor head nor foot betrayed any
+restlessness either of mind or body; and yet when he did move, were it
+only hand or foot or head, the impression he gave Dolly was of
+readiness for the keenest action, if the time for action once came. How
+the two seemingly contradictory impressions were conveyed together,
+Dolly did not stop to think; she had no time to moralise upon her
+observations; however, this mingling of calm and vigour was very
+imposing to her; it attracted and fascinated. No man could sit more
+quiet in company; and yet, if he turned his head or shifted the
+position of his hand, what Dolly saw was power and readiness to move
+with effect if there were anything to be done; and the calm intensified
+the power to her mind. And then, apart from all this, the room in which
+they were sitting was filled with pretty things and charming things
+which the Thayers had been collecting since they came to Rome. Dolly's
+eye strayed from one to another, as she sat listening to her
+companions; though the pretty things never diverted her attention from
+what these were saying or what they were doing. It was a charmed hour
+altogether! of rest and relief and enjoyment. Taken out of herself and
+away from her cares, Dolly tasted and delighted in the fairy minutes as
+they flew, and did not even trouble herself to think how soon they
+would be flown by and gone.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have been a great while away, Sandie," Christina was saying. "Why
+could you not join us before? You might have skipped something. Here
+have I stayed away from the Sistine to-night, for your sake."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is it any special loss, this evening of all others?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Certainly! It is Christmas; there is music, and company."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you enjoy the Sistine Chapel, apart from music and company?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, indeed I don't! I don't like it at all. Such horrid things on the
+walls, as are enough to give one the nightmare after being there. I
+know it is Michael Angelo, and I am horribly out of order in saying so;
+but what is the use of pretending in <I>this</I> company?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What is the use of pretending in any company?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, nonsense, Sandie! a great deal. Everybody pretends, at some time
+or other. What would become of us if we spoke out all we had in our
+minds?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You do not like the Sistine Chapel. What do you enjoy most in Rome?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Most? The Pincian, Sunday afternoon."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sunday! Why Sunday?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Music, and all the world there. It's the most beautiful scene, in the
+first place, and the most amusing, that you can find. There is
+<I>everybody</I> there, Sandie; people from all the quarters of the earth;
+of all nationalities and costumes; the oddest and the prettiest;
+everybody you know and everybody you don't know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But why on Sunday?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, that's the special day; that and Thursday, I believe; but I
+generally have something else to do Thursday; and anyhow there isn't as
+good a show. I rarely go Thursday."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And Sunday you have nothing else to do. I see."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, Sandie, of course we have been to church in the morning, you
+know. There is nothing to go to in the afternoon. What should one do?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Miss Copley, do you enjoy the Pincian on Sunday evenings?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have not tried it," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your mother and father were there, though, last Sunday," said
+Christina. "Sandie, what are you thinking of? You have some
+superstitious objection? I daresay you have!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not I," said Mr. Shubrick. "But it occurs to me that there is a
+command somewhere, touching the question."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What command? In the Bible! Sandie, do you think those Sunday commands
+are to be taken just as they stand&mdash;to mean just so? and shut one
+stupidly up in the house for all day Sunday except when one is going in
+procession to church?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You know," said Mr. Shubrick, "I am like the centurion in the Bible,
+'a man under authority,' having other men under me; 'and I say to this
+man, Go, and he goeth; and to another, Come and he cometh.' I know
+nothing about orders that are not to be obeyed."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And is that the way you would rule your house?" said Christina, half
+pouting.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I should leave that to you," he answered smiling. "It is enough for me
+to rule my ship. The house would be your care."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Would it? Does that mean that you expect always to be a sailor?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is my profession. A man must do something."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If he <I>must</I>. But not if he has no need to do anything?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The young officer looked at her with a considerative sort of gravity,
+and inquired if she could respect a lazy man.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, and you never would be lazy, or could be lazy," she said,
+laughing. "But surely there are things enough to be done on shore."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Things enough. The question for every one is where he can do most."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, Sandie," Christina cried, "it is not possible that you should
+have your time to yourself on shipboard, and as an acting officer, as
+you could at home on shore. Reading and study, that, you like, I know;
+and then painting, and all art pleasures, that you think so much about,
+much more than I do; and a thousand other things;&mdash;you have no chance
+for them at sea."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You talk as if one had nothing to do but to please himself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well," said Christina, "so far as one can, why not? Does not all the
+world?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes. All the world. You are right. All the world, except a little body
+of men who follow Christ; and <I>He</I>, pleased not Himself. I thought you
+knew I was one of His servants, Christina."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Does that forbid your pleasing yourself?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not in one way," said Mr. Shubrick, smiling again, a smile that made
+Dolly's heart throb with its meaning. "It is my pleasure to do my
+Master's will. The work He has given me to do, I would rather do of all
+things."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I can't think what work you mean, Sandie. I really do not understand."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you understand, Miss Copley?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly started. "I believe so," she said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Will you have the goodness to explain to Christina?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why don't you explain yourself, Sandie?" said his betrothed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am talking too much. Besides, it will come better from Miss Copley's
+lips."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't think so; but however.&mdash;Well, Dolly, if you are to explain,
+please explain. But how come <I>you</I> to understand, when I don't
+understand? What work does he mean?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose," said Dolly, "Mr. Shubrick means work for other people."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Work for other people!" cried Christina. "Do you think <I>we</I> do not do
+work for other people? Mamma gives away loads; she does a great deal
+for the poor. She is always doing it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, I help now and then. But she does not want my help much."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did you think, Miss Copley, I meant work for poor people?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said Dolly. "At least&mdash;that is&mdash;I thought you meant the work that
+is for Christ."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I am sure He commanded us to take care of the poor," said
+Christina.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He commanded us also to carry the gospel to every creature."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's for ministers, and missionaries," said Christina.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The order was given to all the disciples, and He commanded us to be
+lights in the world."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course&mdash;to set good examples."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is not quite the whole," said Mr. Shubrick; "though people do
+take it so, I believe."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have always taken it so," said Dolly. "What more can it be?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Remember the words&mdash;'Whatsoever <I>doth make manifest</I> is light.' There
+is the key. There are good examples&mdash;so called&mdash;which disturb nobody.
+There are others,"&mdash;he spoke very gravely,&mdash;"before which sin knows
+itself, and conscience shrinks away; before which no lie can stand.
+Those are the Lord's light-bearers."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sandie, what has got you into this vein of moralising? Is this talk
+for Christmas Eve, when we ought to be merry? Don't you lead a dreadful
+dull life on board ship?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said he. "Never. Neither there nor anywhere else."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are you always picking at the wick of that light of yours, to make it
+shine more?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"By no means. No lamp would stand such treatment. No; the only thing
+for us to do in that connection is to see that the supply of oil is
+kept up."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sandie, life would be fearful on your terms!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not find it so."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And, "Oh no, Christina!" came from Dolly's lips at the same time.
+Christina looked from one to the other.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I had better gone to the Sistine," she said. "I suppose you would tell
+me there to look at Michael Angelo's picture of the Last Judgment. But
+I assure you I never do. I make a point not to see it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do <I>you</I> enjoy most in this old city, Miss Copley?" Mr. Shubrick
+said now, turning to her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I hardly can tell," said Dolly; "I enjoy it all so very much. I think,
+of all&mdash;perhaps the Colosseum."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That old ruin!" said Christina.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But it is such a beautiful ruin! Have you seen it by moonlight? And I
+always think of the time when it was finished, and full, and of the
+things that were done there; and I fancy the times when the moonlight
+shone in just so after the days when Christians had been given to the
+lions. I never get tired of the Colosseum."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You, too!" exclaimed Christina. "What pleasant and enlivening
+contemplations!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes," said Dolly. "Grand. I see the moonlight shining on the broken
+walls of the Colosseum, and I think of the martyrs in their white
+robes. There is no place brings me nearer to heaven, and the world
+looks so small."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dolly Copley!" cried Christina. "Do you want the world to look small,
+as long as you are obliged to live in it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It looks big enough," said Dolly, smiling, "as soon as I get home."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The conversation, however, after this did take a turn, and ran upon
+more everyday topics; less interesting to Dolly however. But the
+speakers were interesting always; and she watched them, the play of
+sense and nonsense, of feeling and fun, not caring much that the matter
+of the talk did not concern her; until Mrs. Thayer and her escort were
+heard returning.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And then, indeed, the evening changed its character; however the
+fascination remained for Dolly. The talk was no longer on personal
+subjects; it went gaily and jovially over all sorts of light matters;
+an excellent supper was served; and in the novelty and the brightness
+and the liveliness of all about her, Dolly was in a kind of
+bewitchment. It was a lull, a pause in the midst of her cares, a still
+nook to which an eddy had brought her, out of the current; Dolly took
+the full benefit. She would not think of trouble. Sometimes a swift
+feeling of contrast swept in upon her, the contrast of her friend's
+safe and sheltered life. No care for her; no anxiety about ways and
+means; no need to work for money; and no need to fear for anybody dear
+to her. Christina's father was <I>her</I> guardian, not she his; he might be
+a very humdrum man, and no doubt was, but his daughter had no cause to
+be ashamed for him; had not the burden of his life and character on her
+own shoulders to take care of. A swift, keen feeling of this contrast
+would come over Dolly; but she put it away as instantly, and would not
+see or hear anything but what was pleasant.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap26"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+NAPLES.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Dolly shared her friend's room. Talk ran on, all the while they were
+undressing, upon all manner of trifles. When they were laid down,
+however, and Dolly was just rejoicing to be quiet and think, Christina
+began to speak in a different tone.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dolly, how do you like him?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+I think, if Dolly had liked him less, she would have been fuller in his
+praise. I do not know by what sort of hidden instinct and unconscious
+diplomacy she answered very coolly and with no enthusiasm.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I like him very well. I think he is true."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"True! Of course he is true. If he wouldn't be so stupid. To expect one
+to be unlike all the world."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly was silent.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He's crochetty, that's what he is," Christina went on. "I hate a man
+to be crochetty. I shall work him out of it, if ever we come to live
+together."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't believe you will, Christina."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why not?"&mdash;quickly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't <I>think</I> you will," Dolly repeated.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Because you have the same notions that he has. My dear little Dolly!
+you don't know the world. You <I>can't</I> live in the world and be running
+your head perpetually against it; indeed you cannot. You may break your
+head, but you won't do anything else. And the world will laugh at you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But, Christina, whom do you serve? For it comes to that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Whom do I serve! Pooh, that's not the question."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It comes to that, Christina."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, of course there is but one answer. But Sandie would have me give
+up everything;&mdash;everything!&mdash;all I like, and all I want to do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Christina, it seems to me the Bible says we must give Christ our whole
+selves."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, if you are going to take the Bible literally"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How else can you take it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Seasonably."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But how are you going to settle what is reasonable? Didn't the Lord
+know what He wanted His people to do? And He said we must give Him
+ourselves and all we have got."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Have you?" said Christina.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Given up all, as you say?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think I have," Dolly answered slowly. "I am sure, Christina, I do
+not want anything but what God chooses to give me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And are you ready to give up all your own pleasure and amusement, and
+your time, and be like no one else, and have no friends in the world?"
+Christina spoke the words in a kind of hurry.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You go too fast," said Dolly. "You ask too many things at once; and
+you forget what Mr. Shubrick said&mdash;that it is pleasure to please our
+Master. <I>He</I> said it was His meat to do His Father's will; and He is
+our pattern. And doing His will does not prevent either pleasure or
+amusement, of the right sort; not at all. O Christina! I do not think
+anybody is rightly happy, except those who love Christ and obey him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are you happy?" was the next quick question. Dolly could not answer it
+as immediately.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If I am not," she said at last, "it is because there are some things
+in my life just now that&mdash;trouble me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dear Dolly!" said Christina affectionately. "But you looked quite
+happy this evening."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I was," said Dolly. "You made me so."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Christina kissed her, and thereupon at once fell asleep. But Dolly was
+not sleepy. Her thoughts were wide awake, and roved over everything in
+the world, it seemed to her; at least over all her friend's affairs and
+over all her own. She was not fretting, only looking at things.
+Christina's ease and security and carelessness, her own burdens and
+responsibilities; the fulness of means here, the difficulty of getting
+supplies in her own household; Sandie Shubrick, finally, and Lawrence
+St. Leger! What a strange difference between one lot and another! It
+was a bright night; the moonlight streamed in at one of the windows in
+a yellow flood. Dolly lay staring at the pool of light on the floor.
+Roman moonlight! And so the same moonlight had poured down in old times
+upon the city of the Caesars; lighted up their palaces and triumphal
+arches; yes, and the pile of the Colosseum and the bones of the
+martyrs. The same moonlight! Old Rome lay buried; the oppressor and the
+oppressed were passed away; the persecutor and his victims alike long
+gone from the scene of their doings and sufferings; and the same moon
+shining on! What shadows we are in comparison! thought Dolly; and then
+her thoughts instantly corrected themselves. Not we, but <I>this</I>, is the
+shadow; this material, so unchanging earth. Sense misleads us. "The
+world passeth away and the lust thereof; but he that doeth the will of
+God abideth for ever." Then it is only to do that, thought Dolly; be it
+hard or easy; that is the only thing to care about. And therewith
+another word came to her; it seemed to be written in the
+moonlight:&mdash;"Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?" It came so
+soft and sweet upon Dolly's heart as I can hardly tell; her eyelids
+dropped from their watch, and in another minute she too was fast asleep.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The next day was wholly pleasant to her. It was merry, as Christmas
+ought to be; and Dolly had laid aside her own cares and took everything
+as light-heartedly as anybody else. More, perhaps, if the truth were
+known; for Dolly had laid her cares she knew where, and that they would
+be looked after. The pleasant people, whose festivities she shared,
+were all kind to her; she had not been forgotten in the gifts which
+were flying about; and altogether the day was a white one. It only
+ended too soon. At four o'clock Dolly prepared to go home. Christina
+protested that she was not wanted there.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am wanted more than you think. I must give mother a piece of my
+Christmas Day."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, you're all coming to us at Sorrento, remember; and that will be
+charming. We will go everywhere together. And Sandie;&mdash;you will be with
+us, Sandie? in the spring, at the villa? Oh, you must!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If I possibly can," he said gravely.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And Sandie will take you home now, as you must go. I see he is ready."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly would have objected, but she could not alter this arrangement;
+and Mr. Shubrick walked home with her. It was a very matter-of-fact
+walk, however. There was as nearly as possible no conversation between
+the two. Nevertheless, the walk had its fascination for Dolly. The
+stately, straight, manly figure beside her, inspired her with an
+admiration which had a little awe mixed with it; to walk with him, even
+in silence, was an undoubted pleasure; and when he took leave of her at
+the door of her lodgings and turned away, Dolly felt, and not till
+then, that her holiday was over.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She went up the stairs slowly. Her short holiday was over. Now work
+again. Well! Dolly remembered the conclusion of last night's thoughts
+in the moonlight; took up her burden on her shoulders, and carried it
+up stairs with her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She found her mother alone.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dearest mother, how do you do?" she said, kissing her; "and how has
+the day been? I have stayed away pretty late, but I could hardly help
+it; and I have had a very nice time."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't like holidays," was Mrs. Copley's answer. "They're the
+wearisomest days I know; especially when every one else is out and
+enjoying himself. This Christmas has been a year long, seems to me. Who
+did you see?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Just themselves, and Christina's friend, Mr. Shubrick."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What's he like?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He's very fine, mother, I think. Christina ought to be a happy woman."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He hasn't got anything, as I understand?" said Mrs. Copley.  "I don't
+think Mrs. Thayer is at all delighted with the match. I know I
+shouldn't be."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mrs. Thayer does not see things with my eyes, probably; and you don't
+see them at all, mother, dear, not knowing Mr. Shubrick. Look at my
+presents; see this lovely cameo ring; Christina gave it to me Christmas
+Eve; and this brooch is from Mrs. Thayer; and Mr. Thayer gave me this
+dear little bronze lamp."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do you want with such a thing as that? you can't use it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, for the antique beauty, mother; and the lovely shape. It's real
+bronze, and Mr. Thayer says the workmanship is very fine."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But he has nothing, has he?" said Mrs. Copley, weighing the bronze
+lamp in her hand disapprovingly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who? He has another just like it. Do you mean Mr. Thayer?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Pshaw, child, no! I mean the other man, Christina's intended. He has
+nothing, has he?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not know what you call 'nothing.' He has a very fine figure, an
+excellent face, sense and firmness and gentleness; and a manner that's
+fascinating. I never saw anybody with a finer manner. I think he has a
+good deal."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mr. St. Leger has all that, Dolly, and money to boot."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mother! There is all the difference in the world between the two men."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"St. Leger has the money, though; and that makes more difference than
+anything else I know of. Dolly, I <I>wish</I> you would make up your mind. I
+think that would bring your father all right."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where is father, mother?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Gone out."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But I thought he would stay with you while I was away. Couldn't you
+keep him at home, mother? just this one day?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I never try to influence your father's motions, Dolly. I never did.
+And it would be no use. Men do not bear that sort of thing."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What sort of thing?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Interference. They never do. No man of any spunk does. They are all
+alike in that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you mean that no man will give up any of his pleasure for a woman
+that he loves, and that loves him?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"While men are just in love, Dolly, and before they are married, they
+will make fools of themselves; and for a little while after. Then
+things fall into their regular train; and their regular train is as I
+tell you. Let a man alone, if you want to keep the peace and have a
+comfortable time, Dolly. I <I>never</I> interfere with your father. I never
+did."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Would it have been better if she had? Dolly queried. <I>She</I> must
+interfere with him now, and it was hard. Dolly thought the wife might
+have done it easier than the daughter. She did not believe her father
+was looking up antiquities; she had not faith in his love of art; he
+could be on no good errand, she greatly feared. Christmas Day! and he
+would go out and leave his nervous, invalid wife to count her fingers
+in solitude; not even waiting till Dolly should be at home again. <I>Are</I>
+all men like that? Mr. Shubrick, for instance? But what was to be done?
+If Mr. Copley had found places and means of dissipation in Rome, then
+Rome was a safe abode for him no longer. Where would be a safe abode?
+Dolly's heart was bitter in its sorrow for a moment; then she gathered
+herself up.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mother, do you like Rome?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why should I like it? I think we came away from Venice a great deal
+too soon. You would come, Dolly. There is nothing here, for me, but old
+tumbledown places; and the meals are not near so good as we had there
+in Venice. No, I'm sick and tired of Rome. I'm glad you've had a good
+Christmas Day; it's been forlorn to me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I won't go again from you, mother. Will you like to make a visit to
+the Thayers at their villa?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know. Is Mr. St. Leger invited?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Particularly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And the other man?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What other man?" said Dolly, laughing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You know,&mdash;Christina's man."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He is asked. I do not know about his coming. He would if he could, he
+said. Why? do you want to see him?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was well on in the evening before Mr. Copley made his appearance.
+And then he was taciturn and not in an agreeable temper. The worse for
+wine he was not, in one sense; he was in no measure overcome by it; but
+Dolly knew that he had been taking it somewhere. O fathers! she
+thought, if you are not to "provoke your children to anger," neither
+ought you to drive them to despair; and you ought never, never, to let
+them blush for you! That I should be ashamed for <I>my father!</I>
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She said nothing that night but what was in the way of sweetest
+ministry to both father and mother. She talked of all that she had seen
+and done during her visit. She got out a supper of fruit, and would
+have them eat it. Not very easy work, for her father was glum and her
+mother unresponsive; but she did what could be done. Next day she
+proposed going on to Sorrento.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It does not agree very well with mother here; at least I do not think
+she is gaining; and she does not enjoy it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You enjoy it, don't you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh yes; as far as that goes. But I care more for mother and you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And I care for you, Dolly. No, no; we are old people; it doesn't
+signify a rush whether we like it or no. You are young, and you are
+here for once, in Rome, and I am not going away till you've seen it
+fairly. Don't you say so, mother, hey? Now she has got a good chance,
+she must use it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm afraid it's expensive," put in Mrs. Copley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nonsense; no more than anywhere else. It'll be just about the same
+thing at Sorrento, or wherever you go. See all you can, Dolly. We'll
+stay."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I should think you would send Rupert home, at least," said his wife
+rather disconsolately; but true to her principles she put in no
+objection to her husband's pleasure. "We might save so much."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We shouldn't save anything. Rupert makes himself very useful; if we
+had not him, we should want some rogue of a courier. I'll keep Rupert.
+How he enjoys it, the dog!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Rupert was invaluable to Dolly, though she said nothing about it.
+Always ready to attend upon her, always devoted to her wishes, her
+intelligent companion, and her most faithful and efficient servant in
+making purchases of drawing materials or in disposing of her finished
+work. Dolly attempted to overrule the decision made ostensibly in her
+favour, that their stay in Rome should be prolonged; but had no
+success. Everybody, except only her mother, was against her. And though
+she feared sadly that her father's motive was twofold and regarded his
+own pleasure more than hers, she could not change the present status of
+things.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They remained at Rome all winter. It was a winter of mingled delight
+and distress to Dolly; strangely mingled. The immediate money cares
+were lifted off; that was one thing. The family lived cheaply, and gave
+themselves few indulgences, but the bills were paid, somehow; and it
+was a perpetual indulgence only to be in Rome. How Dolly took the good
+of it, I have not room to describe. She was busy, too; she even worked
+hard. Before the Thayers went away, she had taken all their portraits;
+and with so much acceptance that they introduced her to other friends;
+and Dolly's custom grew to be considerable. It paid well, for her
+pictures were really exquisite. Her great natural gift had been trained
+judiciously, so far as it was trained at all, in America; and now
+necessity spurred her, and practice helped her, and habitually
+conscientious work lost no time, and maturing sense and feeling added
+constant new charm to her performances, discernment to her eye, and
+skill to her hand. Dolly was accumulating a little stock of money
+against a time of need; and the secret knowledge of this was a
+perpetual comfort.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And when she gave herself play-time, how she played! Then, with her
+father if she could get him, or with Rupert if, as most often was the
+case, Mr. Copley was out of the way or indisposed for sight-seeing,
+Dolly went about the old city, drinking in pleasure; revelling in
+historical associations, which were always a hobby of hers; feasting
+with untiring enjoyment on the wonders of architecture old and new; or
+in churches and galleries losing herself in rapt ecstasy before this or
+that marvel of the painter's art. It was a wonderful winter to Dolly.
+Many a young lady has passed the same season in the same place, but it
+is only one here and there who finds the hundredth part of the mental
+food and delectation that Dolly found. Day by day she was growing, and
+knew it; in delicacy of appreciation, in tenderness of feeling, in
+power of soul to grasp, in largeness of heart to love, in courage to do
+and suffer. For all Dolly's studying and enjoying she did in the light
+of Bible truth and the enriching of heavenly influences; and so, in
+pictures of the old masters and creations of the grand architects of
+old and new time, she found truth and teaching and testimony utterly
+missed by those who have not the right key. It is the same with nature
+and with all the great arts; for Truth is one; and if you are quite
+ignorant of her in her highest and grandest revelations, you cannot by
+possibility understand the more subordinate and initiative. Some dim
+sense of the hidden mystery, some vague appreciation of the outward
+beauty of the language without getting at its expressed meaning, or but
+very partially, just so far as you have the key; that is all there is
+for you.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In all Dolly's horizon there was but one cloud. Lawrence was one of the
+company, it is true, almost one of the family; treated with greatest
+consideration and familiarity by both father and mother. But Dolly was
+not a weak young woman. She knew her own mind, and she had given
+Lawrence to know it; she was in no confusion about him, and her
+conscience was clear. Lawrence was also enjoying Rome, after his own
+fashion; if he was staying for her, Dolly did not know it, and it was
+not her fault.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+So her one only shadow upon the brightness at Rome came from her
+father. Not that he went into any great excesses; or if he did, they
+were hidden from Dolly; but he indulged himself, she knew, in one at
+least of his mischievous pleasures. She had no reason to suppose that
+he gambled; as I said, there was always money to discharge the weekly
+bills; but he found wine somewhere and drank it; that was certain; and
+when did ever evil habits stand still? If he kept within bounds now,
+who should warrant her that he would continue to do so? Mr. Copley came
+home sometimes cheerful and disposed to be merry; he had taken only
+enough to exhilarate him; at other times he came home gloomy and cross,
+and then Dolly knew he had drunk enough to confuse his head and
+slightly disturb his conscience. What could she do? She clenched her
+little hands sometimes when she was walking the streets, and sometimes
+she wrung them in impotent grief. She strove to win her father to share
+in her pleasures; with little success. She was lovely to him as a
+daughter could be, always; and at the same time she let him see by her
+grave face and subdued manner when he came home with the breath of wine
+upon his lips, that she was troubled and grieved. What more could she
+do? So her winter was a complication of great enjoyment with anxiety
+and mortification.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+About the end of March they left the delightful old city and set off
+southwards. To Sorrento, was Dolly's fond hope. But when they got to
+Naples, she found that all the men of the party were against proceeding
+further, at least before the pleasures and novelties of that place had
+also bean tasted.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There's a famous museum here, Dolly," said her father. "You could not
+pass that?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And Pompeii&mdash;don't you want to see Pompeii?" cried Rupert.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It will be pleasanter at Sorrento later in the season," said Lawrence;
+"much pleasanter. Wait till it grows warm here; then Sorrento will be
+delightful. We are taking everything just at the right time."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And it is as beautiful here as you can find anything," added Mr.
+Copley. "You want to look at the bay of Naples, now you have the
+chance."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Yes, said Dolly to herself, and they say the wines are good at Naples
+too! But she gave up the question. They established themselves in a
+hotel.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"For how long, I wonder?" said Mrs. Copley to Dolly when they were
+alone. "It seems as if I wasn't going to get to Sorrento. I don't know
+what I expect there, either, I am sure; only we set out to go to
+Sorrento for my health; and here we are in Naples after five months of
+wandering and lounging about! and here we are going to stay, it seems."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The wandering and lounging about was very good for you, mother, dear.
+You are a great deal improved in your looks."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wish I was in my feelings."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are, aren't you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What does your father want to do in Naples?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know. They all want to stay here a while, you see. And,
+mother, don't you enjoy this wonderful view?" For their windows
+commanded the bay.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'd rather see Boston harbour, by half."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, so would I!&mdash;on some accounts. But, mother, it is a great thing to
+see Naples."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So your father thinks. Men never do know what they want; only it is
+always something they haven't got."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We're in Naples, though, mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We shan't be long."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, we don't <I>want</I> to be here long, mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'd like to be still somewheres. Your father'd as lieve be anywhere
+else as at home; but I like to see my own fire burn. I don't know as I
+ever shall again. Unless you'll marry Mr. St. Leger, Dolly. That would
+bring all right, at one stroke." From which suggestion Dolly always
+escaped as fast as possible.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It turned out that they were to stay a good while at Naples. Perhaps
+Mr. Copley feared the seclusion of a private house at Sorrento. However
+that were, he seemed to find motives to detain him where he was, and
+Lawrence St. Leger was nothing loth. The days went by, till Dolly
+herself grew impatient. They went very much after the former manner, as
+far as the gentlemen were concerned; Lawrence found society, and Mr.
+Copley too, naturally, took pleasure in meeting a good many people to
+whom he was known. What other pleasure he took in their company Dolly
+could but guess; with him things went on very much as they had done in
+Rome.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+With her, not. Dolly knew nobody, kept close by her mother, who
+eschewed all society, and so of course had no likenesses to paint. She
+worked busily at the other sort of painting which had engaged her in
+Venice; made lovely little pictures of Naples; rather of bits of
+Naples; characteristic bits; which were done with so much truth and
+grace that Rupert without difficulty disposed of them to the fancy
+dealers. The time of photographs was not yet; and Dolly made money
+steadily. She enjoyed this work greatly. Her other pleasures were found
+in walks about the city, and in visits to the museum. There was not in
+Naples the wealth of art objects which had been so inexhaustible in
+Rome; nevertheless, the museum furnished an interest all its own; and
+Dolly went there day after day. Indeed, the interest grew; and objects
+which at her first going she passed carelessly by, at the fourth or
+fifth she began to study with intent interest. The small bronzes found
+at Pompeii were pored over by her and Rupert till they almost knew the
+several pieces by heart, and had constructed over them a whole system
+of the ways of private life in those old days when they were made and
+used. Dolly often managed to persuade her father to be her escort when
+she went to the museum; and Mr. Copley would go patiently, for Dolly's
+sake, seeing the extreme delight it afforded her; but Mr. Copley was
+not always to be had, and then Dolly chose certain parts of the
+collection which she and Rupert could study together. So they gave a
+great deal of time to the collection of coins; not at first, but by
+degrees drawn on. So with the famous collection of antique bronzes.
+Rupert looked on these in the beginning with a depreciating eye.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What's the fun here? I don't get at it," he remarked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"O Rupert! the beauty of the things."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They are what I call right homely. What a colour they have got. Is it
+damp, or what?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't you know? these dark ones come from Herculaneum, and were locked
+up in lava; the others, the greenish ones, are from Pompeii, where the
+covering was lighter and they were exposed to damp, as you say."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I suppose they are curious, being so ancient."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Rupert, they are most beautiful."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+But Rupert as well as Dolly found a mine of interest in the Greek and
+gladiatorial armour and weapons.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It makes my head turn!" said Rupert.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, it is eighteen hundred years ago. To think that men lived and
+fought with those helmets and weapons and shields, so long back! and
+now here are the shields and helmets, but where are the men?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly said nothing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you think they are anywhere?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Certainly!" said Dolly, turning upon him. "As certainly as they wore
+that armour once."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where, then?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I can't tell you that. The Bible and the ancients call it Hades&mdash;the
+place of departed spirits."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But here are their shields,&mdash;and folks come and look at them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It gives one a sort of queer feeling."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes," said Dolly. "One of those helmets may have belonged to a
+conqueror, and another may have been unclasped from a dead gladiator's
+head. And it don't matter much to either of them now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It seems as if nothing in the world mattered much," said Rupert.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It don't!" said Dolly quickly. "'The world passeth away, and the lust
+thereof; but he that doeth the will of God abideth for ever.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You think such a one is better off than the rest?" said Rupert. "How?
+You say the rest are living somewhere."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Existing."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What's the difference?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Just all the difference between light and darkness;&mdash;or between life
+and death. You would not call it living, if all joy and hope were gone
+out of existence; you would wish that existence could end."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How do you know all about it so well, Miss Dolly?" the young man asked
+a little incredulously.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Rupert, it begins in this world. I know a little of the difference
+now. I never was where all joy and hope were gone out of
+existence&mdash;though I have seen trouble," said Dolly gravely. "But I <I>do</I>
+know that nothing in this world is so good as the love of Christ; and
+that without Him life is not life."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"People seem to have a good time without it," said Rupert.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"For a little. How would they be, do you think, if all their pleasures
+were taken away?&mdash;their money, and all their money gets for them;
+friends and all?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Wretched dogs," said Rupert.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But nobody in the world that loved Christ was ever that," Dolly said,
+smiling.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was in her smile something so tender and triumphant at once, that
+it silenced Rupert. It was a testimony quite beyond words. For that
+instant Dolly's spirit looked out of the transparent features, and the
+light went to Rupert's heart like an arrow. Dolly moved on, and he
+followed, not looking at the gladiators' shields or Greek armour.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then, Miss Dolly," he burst out, after his thoughts had been seething
+a little while,&mdash;"if this world is so little count, what's the use of
+anything that men do? what's the good of studying&mdash;or of working&mdash;or of
+coming to look at these old things?&mdash;or of doing anything else, but
+just religion?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly's eyes sparkled, but she laughed a little.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You cannot 'do' religion that way, Rupert," she said. "The old monks
+made a mistake. What is the use? Why, if you are going to be a servant
+of Christ and spend your life in working for Him, won't you be the very
+best and most beautiful servant you can? Do you think a savage has as
+much power or influence in the world as an educated, accomplished,
+refined man? Would he do as much, or do it as well? If you are going to
+give yourself to Christ, won't you make the offering as valuable and as
+honourable as you can? That is what you would do if you were giving
+yourself to a woman, Rupert. I know you would."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Rupert had no chance to answer, for strangers drew near, and Dolly and
+he passed on. Perhaps he did not wish to answer.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There were other times when Dolly visited the museum with her father.
+Then she studied the frescoes from Pompeii, the marble sculptures, or
+sat before some few of the pictures in the collections of the old
+masters. Mr. Copley was patient, admiring her if he admired nothing
+else; but even he did admire and enjoy some of the works of art in
+which the museum is so rich; and one day he and Dolly had a rare bit of
+talk over the collection of ancient glass. Such hours made Dolly only
+the more grieved and distressed when she afterwards perceived that her
+father had been solacing himself with other and very much lower
+pleasures.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap27"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+SORRENTO.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+It was not till the end of May that they got away from Naples. Mrs.
+Copley was long tired of her stay there, and even, she said, tired of
+the bay! Dolly was glad to have her father at a distance from hotels
+and acquaintances, even though but for a time; and the gentlemen liked
+moving, as men always do. So the little party in the carriage were in
+very good spirits and harmony. Rupert had gone on before with the
+luggage, to make sure that all was right about the rooms and everything
+ready. They were engaged in the house to which Lady Brierley's
+housekeeper had given them the address.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The day was one of those which travellers tell us of in the south of
+Italy, when spring is in its glory or passing into summer. In truth,
+the weather was very warm; but Dolly at least never regarded that, in
+her delight at the views presented to her. After Castellamare was
+passed, and as the afternoon wore on, her interest grew with every
+step. Villages and towns, rocks and trees, were steeped in a wonderful
+golden light; vineyards and olive groves were etherialised; and when
+they drew near to Meta, and the plain of Sorrento opened before them,
+Dolly hung out of the carriage almost breathless.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is it better than the bay of Naples?" asked Lawrence, smiling.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am not comparing," said Dolly. "But look at the trees! Did you ever
+see such beautiful woods?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Hardly woods, are they?" said Lawrence. "There's variety, certainly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Said to be a very healthy place," remarked Mr. Copley. "I envy you,
+Dolly. You can get pleasure out of a stick, if it has leaves on it.
+Naturally, the plain of Sorrento&mdash;&mdash; But this sun, I confess, makes me
+wish for the journey's end."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is not far off, father. Yonder is Sorrento."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And soon the carriage rolled into the town, and turning then aside
+brought them to a house on the outskirts of the place, situated on a
+rocky cliff overhanging the shore of the sea. Rupert met them at the
+gate, and announced a neat house, civil people, comfortable lodgings,
+and dinner getting ready.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I only hope they will not give us maccaroni with tomatoes," said Mrs.
+Copley. "I am so tired of seeing maccaroni with tomatoes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't mind for to-day, mother, dear," said Dolly. "We'll have it all
+right to-morrow."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The rooms were found so pleasant, bright and clean, that even Mrs.
+Copley was satisfied. The dinner, which was ready for them as soon as
+they were ready for it, proved also excellent; with plenty of fresh
+vegetables and fruit. Till the meal was over, Dolly had scarce a chance
+to see where she was; but then she left the others at the table and
+went out at the open glass door upon a piazza which extended all along
+the sea front of the house. Here she stood still and cried to the
+others to follow her. The house was built, as I said, like many houses
+in Sorrento, on the edge of a rocky cliff, from which there was fair,
+unhindered view over the whole panorama of sea and land. The sun was
+descending the western sky, and the flood of Italian light seemed to
+transfigure the world. Between the verandah and the absolute edge of
+the rocks, the space was filled with beds of flowers and shrubbery; and
+a little a one side, so as not to interrupt the view, were fig-trees
+and pomegranate-trees and olives. Dolly ran down the steps into the
+garden, and the rest of the party could not but come after her. Dolly's
+face was flushed with delight.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did anybody ever see such colours before?" she cried. "Oh, the
+colours! Look at the blue of the water, down there in the shade; and
+then see that delicious green beyond, set off by its fringe of white
+foam; and then where the sun strikes, and where the clouds are
+reflected."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is just what you have been seeing in the bay of Naples," said Mrs.
+Copley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And Vesuvius, mother! Do look at Vesuvius; how noble it is from here,
+and in this light."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We had Vesuvius at Naples too," said Mrs. Copley. "It is a wonder to
+me how people can be so fond of being near it, when you never know what
+tricks it will play you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mother, dear, the lava <I>never</I> comes so far as this, in the worst
+eruptions."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The fact that it never did does not prove what it may do some time."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are not afraid of it, surely?" said Mr. Copley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said his wife. "But I have no pleasure in looking at anything
+that has done, and is going to do, so much mischief. It seems to me a
+kind of monster."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You cannot be fond of the sea, at that rate, Mrs. Copley," Lawrence
+observed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, you are right," she said. "The only thing I like about it is, that
+it is the way home."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You don't want to see the way home just now, my dear," said Mr.
+Copley. "You have but now got to the place of your desires."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you ask me what that is, it is Boston," said Mrs. Copley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+But, however, for a while she did take satisfaction in the quiet and
+beauty and sweet air of Sorrento. Dolly revelled in it all. She was
+devoted to her mother and her mother's pleasure, it is true; and here
+as at Rome and Naples she was thus kept a good deal in the house.
+Nevertheless, here, at Sorrento, she tempted her mother to go out. A
+little carriage was procured to take her to the edge of one of the
+ravines which on three sides enclose the town; and then Dolly and her
+mother, with Rupert's help, would wind their way down amid the
+wilderness of lovely vegetation with which the sides and bottom of the
+ravine were grown. At the bottom of the dell they would provide Mrs.
+Copley with a soft bed of moss or a convenient stone to rest upon;
+while the younger people roved all about, gathering flowers, or finding
+something for Dolly to sketch, and coming back ever and anon to Mrs.
+Copley to show what they had found or tell what they had seen; and Mrs.
+Copley for the time forgot her ills, and even forgot Boston, and was
+amused, and enjoyed the warm air and the luxuriant and sweet nature of
+Italy. Sometimes Lawrence came instead of Rupert; and Dolly did not
+enjoy herself so well. But Lawrence was at his own risk now; she could
+not take care of him. Except by maintaining her calm, careless,
+disengaged manner; and that she did. There were other times when Dolly
+and Rupert went out in a boat on the sea. Steps in the rock led
+immediately down from the garden to the shore; on the shore were
+fishermen's huts, and a boat was always to be had. Long expeditions by
+water could not be undertaken, for Mrs. Copley could not be tempted out
+on the sea, and she might not be long left alone; but there were lovely
+hours, when Rupert rowed the boat over the golden and purple waves,
+when all the air seemed rosy and all the sea enamelled, and the sky and
+the clouds (as Rupert said) were as if they had come out of a fairy
+book; every colour was floating there and sending down a paradise of
+broken rainbows upon water and land and the heads of the two
+pleasure-takers.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+But even at Sorrento there was a shadow over Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+For the first weeks the gentlemen, that is, Mr. Copley and his supposed
+secretary, made numerous excursions. Mrs. Copley utterly declined to
+take part in anything that could be called an excursion; and Dolly
+would not go without her. Lawrence and Mr. Copley therefore went
+whither they would alone, and saw everything that could be seen within
+two or three days of Sorrento; for they were gone sometimes as long as
+that. They took provisions with them; and Dolly sadly feared, nay, she
+knew, that wines formed a large part of their travelling stock on these
+occasions; she feared, even, no small part of the attraction of them.
+Mr. Copley generally came back not exactly the same as when he went;
+there was an indescribable look and air which made Dolly's heart turn
+cold; a disreputable air of license, as if he had been indulging
+himself in spite of strong pledges given, and in disregard of gentle
+influences that were trying to deter him. And when he had not been on
+excursions, Dolly often knew that he had found his favourite beverage
+somewhere and was a trifle the worse for it. What could she do? she
+asked herself with a feeling almost of desperation. She had done all
+she knew; what remained? Her father was well aware how she felt. Yet
+no! not that. He could not have the faintest conception of the torture
+he gave his daughter by making her ashamed of him, nor of the fearful
+dread which lay upon her of what his habit of indulgence might end in.
+If he <I>had</I>, Mr. Copley could not, at this stage of things at least,
+have borne it. He must have yielded up anything or borne anything,
+rather than that she should bear this. But he was a man, and could not
+guess it; if he had been told, he would not have understood it; so he
+had his pleasure, and his child's heart was torn with sorrow and shame.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There came a day at last when in their lodgings Mr. Copley called for a
+bottle of wine at dinner. Dolly's heart gave a great jump.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"O father, we do not want wine!" she cried pleadingly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do," said Mr. Copley, "and St. Leger does. Nonsense, my dear! no
+gentleman takes his dinner without his wine. Isn't it so, Lawrence?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And the wine was brought, and the two gentlemen helped themselves. Mrs.
+Copley accepted a little; Rupert,&mdash;Dolly looked to see what he would
+do,&mdash;Rupert quietly put it by.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+So it had come to this again. Not all her prayers and tears and known
+wishes could hold her father back from his desire. The desire must
+already be very strong! Dolly kept her composure with difficulty. She
+ate no more dinner. And it was a relief to thoughts she could scarcely
+bear, when Rupert in the evening asked her to go out and take a row on
+the water.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Such an evening as it was! Dolly ran gladly down the rocky steps which
+led to the shore, and eagerly followed Rupert into the boat. She
+thought to escape from her trouble for a while. Instead of that, when
+the boat got away from the shore, and Dolly was floating on the crimson
+and purple sea, with a flush of crimson and purple sent down upon her
+from the clouds, and everything in the world glowing with colour or
+tipped with gold,&mdash;her face as she gazed into the glory took such an
+expression of wan despair, that Rupert forgot where he was. Greatly he
+longed to say something to break up that look; and could not find the
+words. The beauty and the peace of the external world wrought, as it
+sometimes does, by the power of contrast; and had set Dolly to thinking
+of her father and of his and her very doubtful future. What would
+become of him if his present manner of life went on?&mdash;and what would
+become of his wife and of her? What could she do, more than she had
+done, in vain? Dolly tried to think, and could not find. Suddenly, by
+some sweet association of rays of light, there came into her mind the
+night before Christmas, and the moonshine in Christina's room, and the
+words that were so good to her then. "Who shall separate us from the
+love of Christ?" Yes, thought Dolly,&mdash;that is sure. Nothing can come
+between. Nothing can take <I>that</I> joy from me; "neither death nor life;
+nor things present, nor things to come." But, oh! I wish my father and
+mother had it too!&mdash;With that came a rush of tears to her eyes; she
+turned her face away from Rupert so that he might not see them. Had she
+done anything, made any efforts, to bring them to that knowledge? With
+her mother, yes; with her father, no. It had seemed hopelessly
+difficult. How could she set about it? As she pondered this question,
+Rupert saw that the expression of her face had changed, and now he
+ventured to speak.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Miss Dolly, you set me a thinking in Rome."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did I?" said Dolly, brightening. "About what?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And in Naples you drove the nail further in."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What nail? what are you talking about, Rupert?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you remember what you said when we were coming from the Capitoline
+Museum? We were looking at the Colosseum."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not recollect."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do. You drove the nail in then; and when we were in Naples, at the
+museum there, you gave it another hit. It's in now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly could not help laughing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are quite a riddle, Rupert. I make nothing of it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Miss Dolly, I've been thinking that I will go home."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Home?" And Dolly's face now grew very grave indeed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes. I've been splitting my head thinking; and I've about made up my
+mind. I think I'll go home." Rupert was very serious too, and pulled
+the oars with a leisurely, mechanical stroke, which showed he was not
+thinking of <I>them</I>.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What home? London, do you mean?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, not exactly. I should think not! No, I mean Boston, or Lynn
+rather. There's my old mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh!&mdash;your mother," said Dolly slowly. "And she is at Lynn. Is she
+<I>alone</I> there?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She's been alone ever since I left her; and I'm thinking that's what
+she hadn't ought to be."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly paused. The indication seemed to be, that Rupert was taking up
+the notion of duty; duty towards others as well as pleasure for
+himself; and a great throb of gladness came up in her heart, along with
+the sudden shadow of what was not gladness.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think you are quite right, Rupert," she said soberly. "Then you are
+purposing to go back to Lynn to take care of her?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I set out to see the world and to be something," Rupert went on,
+looking thoughtfully out to sea;&mdash;"and I've done one o' the two. I've
+seen the world. I don' know as I should ever be anything, if I staid in
+it. But your talk that day&mdash;those days&mdash;wouldn't go out of my head; and
+I thought I'd give it up, and go home to my old mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll tell you what I think, Rupert," said Dolly; "a man is a great
+deal more likely to come out right in the end and 'be something,' if he
+follows God's plan for him, than if he makes a plan for himself.
+Anyhow, I'd rather have that 'Well done,' by and by"&mdash;&mdash; She stopped.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How's a man to find out God's plan for him?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Just the way you are doing. When work is set before you, take hold of
+it. When the Lord has some more for you He'll let you know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you think this <I>is</I> my work, Miss Dolly, to go home and take care
+of her? She wanted me to make a man of myself; and when Mr. Copley made
+me his offer, she didn't hold me back. But she cried some!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You cannot do another so manly a thing as this, Rupert. I wouldn't let
+her cry any more, if I were you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No more I ain't a-goin' to," said the young man energetically. "But,
+Miss Dolly"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you think it is my duty, because I do one thing, to do t'other? Do
+you think I ought to take to shoemaking?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why to shoemaking, Rupert?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, my father was a shoemaker. They're all shoemakers at Lynn,
+pretty much."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is no reason why you should be. Your education, the education you
+have got since you came over to this side, has fitted you for something
+else, if you like something else better."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's just what I do!" said Rupert with emphasis. "But I could make a
+good living that way&mdash;I was brought up to it, you see;&mdash;and I s'pose
+<I>she'd</I> like me to take up the old business; but I feel like driving an
+awl through a board whenever I think of it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wouldn't do it, Rupert, if I could do something I was more fit for.
+People always do things best that they like to do. I think the choice
+of a business is your affair. Do what you can do best. But I'd make
+shoes rather than do nothing."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know what I am fit for," said Rupert, evidently relieved,
+"but&mdash;oh yes, I would <I>cobble</I> shoes rather than do nothing. I don't
+want to eat idle bread. Then I'll go."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your experience here, in London and on this journey, will not have
+been lost to you," Dolly observed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's been the best thing ever happened to me, this journey," said the
+young man. "And you've done me more good, Miss Dolly, than anybody in
+this world,&mdash;if it ain't my mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I? I am very glad. I am sure you have done a great deal for me,
+Rupert."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have put me upon thinking. And till a fellow begins to think, he
+ain't much more good than a cabbage."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"When will you go, Rupert? I wish we were going too!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I guess my old mother has sat lookin' for me long enough. I
+guess I'll start pretty soon."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Will you?" said Dolly. "But not before we have made our visit to Mrs.
+Thayer's villa? We are going there next week."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll start then, I guess."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And not go with us to the Thayers'?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I guess not."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Didn't they invite you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not a bit of it! Took good care not, I should say."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How do you mean?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, Miss Dolly, Mrs. Thayer was standing two feet from me and asking
+Mr. St. Leger, and she didn't look my way till she had got through and
+was talking of something else; and then she looked as if I had been a
+pane of glass and she was seeing something on the other side&mdash;as I
+suppose she was."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly was silent for a few minutes and then she said, "How I shall miss
+you, Rupert!"&mdash;and tears were near, though she would not let them come.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And Rupert made no answer at all, but rowed the boat in.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Yes, Dolly knew she would miss him sadly. He had been her helper and
+standby and agent and escort and friend, in many a place now, and on
+many an occasion. He had done for her what there was no one else to do,
+ever since that first evening when he had made his appearance at
+Brierley and she had wished him away. So little do people recognise
+their blessings often at first sight. Now,&mdash;Dolly pondered as she
+climbed the cliff,&mdash;how would she get along without Rupert? How long
+would her father even be content to abide with her mother and her in
+their quiet way of living? she had seen symptoms of restlessness
+already. What should she do if he became impatient? if he left them to
+St. Leger's care and went back to London? or if he carried them off
+with him perhaps? To London again! And then afresh came the former
+question, what was there in her power, that might draw her father to
+take deeper and truer views of life and duty than he was taking now? A
+question that greatly bothered Dolly; for there was dimly looming up in
+the distance an answer that she did not like. To attack her father in
+private on the subject of religion, was a step that Dolly thought very
+hopeless; he simply would not hear her. But there was another thing she
+could do&mdash;could she do it? Persuade her father and mother to consent to
+have family prayer? Dolly's heart beat and her breath came quick as she
+passed through the little garden, sweet with roses and oleander and
+orange blossoms. How sweet the flowers were! how heavenly fair the sky
+over her head! So it ought to be in people's hearts, thought Dolly;&mdash;so
+in mine. And if it were, I should not be afraid of anything that was
+right to do. And this <I>is</I> right to do.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly avoided the saloon where the rest of the family were, and betook
+herself to her own room; to consider and to pray over her difficulties,
+and also to get rid of a few tears and bring her face into its usual
+cheerful order. When at last she went down, she found her mother alone,
+but her father almost immediately joined them. The windows were open
+towards the sea, the warm, delicious air stole in caressingly, the
+scent of roses and orange blossoms and carnations filled the house and
+seemed to fill the world; moonlight trembled on the leaves of the
+fig-tree, and sent lines of silver light into the room. The lamp was
+lowered and Mrs. Copley sat doing nothing, in a position of satisfied
+enjoyment by the window.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As Dolly came in by one door, Mr. Copley entered by another, and flung
+himself down on a chair; his action speaking neither enjoyment nor
+satisfaction.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well!" said he. "How much longer do you think you can stand this sort
+of thing?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What sort of thing, father?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you sit in the dark usually?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Come here, father," said Dolly, "come to the window and see the
+moonshine on the sea. Do you call that dark?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your father never cared for moonshine, Dolly," said Mrs. Copley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, that's true," said Mr. Copley with a short laugh. "Haven't you got
+almost enough of it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of moonshine, father?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes&mdash;on the bay of Sorrento. It's a lazy place."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have not been very lazy since you have been here," said his wife.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I have seen all there is to be seen; and now I am ready for
+something else. Aren't you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But, father," said Dolly, "I suppose, just because Sorrento is what
+you call a lazy place it is good for mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Change is good for her too&mdash;hey, wife?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You will have a change next week, father; you know we are going for
+that visit to the Thayers."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We shall not want to stay there long," said Mr. Copley; "and then
+we'll move."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Nobody answered. Dolly looked out sorrowfully upon the beautiful bright
+water. Sorrento had been a place of peace to her. Must she go so soon?
+The scent of myrtles and roses and oranges came in bewilderingly at the
+open window, pleading the cause of "lazy" Sorrento with wonderfully
+persuasive flatteries. Was there any other place in the world so sweet?
+Dolly clung to it, in heart; yearned towards it; the glories of the
+southern sun were what she had never imagined, and she longed to stay
+to enjoy and wonder at them. The fruits, the flowers, the sunny air,
+the fulness and variedness of the colouring on land and sea, the
+leisure and luxury of bountiful nature,&mdash;Dolly was loath, loath to
+leave them all. No other Sorrento, she was ready to believe, would ever
+reveal itself to her vision; and she shrank a little from the somewhat
+rough way she had been travelling before and must travel again. And now
+in the further way, Rupert, her helper and standby, would not be with
+her. Then again came the words of Christmas Eve to her&mdash;"Who shall
+separate us from the love of Christ?"&mdash;and with the words came the
+recollection of the new bit of service Dolly had found to do in her
+return and answer to that love. Yet she hesitated, and her heart began
+to beat faster, and she made no move until her father began to ask if
+it were not time to leave the moonlight and go to bed. Dolly came from
+the window, then to the table where the lowered lamp stood.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mother and father, I should like to do something," she said with an
+interrupted breath. "Would you mind&mdash;may I&mdash;will you let me read a
+chapter to you before we go?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A chapter of what?" said her father; though he knew well enough.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The Bible."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was a pause. Mrs. Copley stirred uneasily, but left the answer
+for her husband to give. It came at last, coldly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is no need for you to give yourself that trouble, my dear. I
+suppose we can all read the Bible for ourselves."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But not as a family, father?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do you mean, Dolly?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Father, don't you think we ought together, as a family,&mdash;don't you
+think we ought to read the Bible together? It concerns us all."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's very kind of you, my daughter; but I approve of everybody
+managing his own affairs," Mr. Copley said, as he rose and lounged,
+perhaps with affected carelessness, out of the room. Dolly stood a
+moment.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"May I read to you, mother?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you like," said Mrs. Copley nervously; "though I don't see, as your
+father says, why we cannot every one read for ourselves. Why did you
+say that to your father, Dolly? He didn't like it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly made no reply. She knelt down by the low table to bring her Bible
+near the light, and read a psalm, her voice quivering a little. She
+wanted comfort for herself, and half unconsciously she chose the
+twenty-seventh psalm.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord
+is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Her voice grew steady as she went on; but when she has finished, her
+mother was crying.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap28"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+AT THE VILLA.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+The place inhabited by the Thayers was a regular Italian villa. It had
+not been at all in order that suited English notions of comfort, or
+American either, when they moved in; but they had painted and matted
+and furnished, and filled the rooms with pretty things, pictures and
+statues and vases and flowers; till it looked now quite beautiful and
+festive. Its situation was perfect. The house stood high, on the shore
+overlooking the sea, with a full view of Vesuvius, and it was
+surrounded with a paradise of orange-trees, fig-trees, pomegranates,
+olives, oaks and oleanders, with roses and a multitude of other
+flowers; in a wealth of sweetness and luxuriance of growth that
+northern climes know nothing of. The reception the visitors met with
+was joyous.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am so glad you are come!" cried Christina, as she carried off Dolly
+through the hall to her particular room. "That bad boy, Sandie, has not
+reported yet; but he will come; and then we will go everywhere. Have
+you been everywhere already?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have been nowhere. I have staid with mother, and she wanted to be
+quiet."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, she can be quiet now with my mother; they can take care of each
+other. And you have not been to Capri?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Just think of it! How delightful! You have not seen the Grotta
+azzurra?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have seen nothing."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nor the grotto of the Sirens? You have seen <I>that?</I> It was so near."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, I have not. I have been nowhere; only with mother to gather ferns
+and flowers in the dells around Sorrento. We used to take mother in a
+donkey cart&mdash;a calessino&mdash;to the edge of the side of the dell, and then
+help her down, and get loads of flowers and ferns. It was very
+pleasant."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wish Sandie would only come&mdash;the tiresome fellow! There's no
+counting on him. But he will come. He said he would if he could, and he
+can of course. I suppose you have not visited Paestum yet then?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I believe father went there. We did not."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nor we, yet. I don't care so much&mdash;only I like to keep going&mdash;but
+father is crazy to see the ruins. You know the ruins are wonderful. Do
+you care for ruins?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I believe I do," said Dolly, smiling, "when the ruins are of something
+beautiful. And those Greek temples&mdash;oh, I <I>should</I> like to see them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I would rather see beautiful things when they are perfect; not in
+ruins; ruins are sad, don't you think so?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose they ought to be," said Dolly, laughing now. "But somehow,
+Christina, I believe the ruins give me more pleasure than if they were
+all new and perfect&mdash;or even old and perfect. It is a perverse taste, I
+suppose, but I do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why? They are not so handsome in ruins."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They are lovelier."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Lovely!&mdash;for old ruins! I can understand papa's enthusiasm; he's a
+kind of antiquity worshipper; but you&mdash;and 'lovely!'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And interesting, Christina. Ruins tell of so much; they are such grand
+books of history, and witnesses for things gone by. But beautiful&mdash;oh
+yes, beautiful beyond all others, if you talk of buildings. What is St.
+Peter's, compared to the Colosseum?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Christina stared at her friend. "What is St. Peter's? A most
+magnificent work of modern art, I should say; and you compare it to a
+tumbledown old bit of barbarism. That's <I>too</I> like Sandie. Do you and
+your friend agree as harmoniously as Sandie and I? We ought to
+exchange."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have no 'friend,' as you express it," said Dolly, pulling her
+wayward, curling locks into a little more order. "Mr. St. Leger is
+nothing to me&mdash;if you are speaking of him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am sure, if he told the truth, he would not say that of you," said
+Christina, looking with secret admiration at the figure before her. It
+was a rare kind of beauty, not of the stereotyped or formal sort; like
+one of the dainty old vases of alabaster, elegant in form and delicate
+and exquisite in chiselling and design, with a pure inner light showing
+through. That was not the comparison in Christina's mind, and indeed
+she made none; but women's eyes are sometimes sharp to see feminine
+beauty; and she confessed that Dolly's was uncommon, not merely in
+degree but in kind. There was nothing conventional about it; there
+never had been; her curling hair took a wayward way of its own; her
+brown eyes had a look of thoughtfulness mingled with childlike
+innocence; they always had it more or less; now the wisdom was more
+sweet and the innocence more spiritual. Her figure and her manner were
+all in harmony, wearing unconscious grace and a very simple, free
+dignity.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We cannot go to Paestum at this season of the year, they say,"
+Christina began again, at a distance from her thoughts; "but one <I>can</I>
+go to the Punta di Campanella and Monte San Costanzo; and as soon as
+Sandie comes, we will. We will wait a day for him first."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly was quite willing to wait for him; for, to tell the truth, one of
+her pleasures in the thought of this visit had been the possibility of
+seeing Mr. Shubrick again. She did not say so, however; and the two
+girls presently went back to the hall. This was a luxurious apartment,
+occupying the centre of the house; octagonal, and open to the outer
+world both at front and back. Warm and yet fresh air was playing
+through it; the odours of flowers filled it; the most commodious of
+light chairs and settees furnished it; and scattered about the wide,
+delicious space were the various members of the party. Mrs. Thayer and
+Mrs. Copley had been sitting together; just now, as the girls entered,
+Mrs. Thayer called St. Leger to her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am delighted to see you here, Mr. St. Leger," she said graciously.
+"You know your father was a very old friend of mine."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That gives me a sort of claim to your present kindness," said St.
+Leger.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You might put in a claim to kindness anywhere," returned the lady.
+"Don't you get it, now, if you tell the truth?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have no reason to complain&mdash;in general," said the young man, smiling.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are a little like your father. He was another. We were great
+cronies when I was a girl. In fact, he was an old beau of mine. We used
+to see a vast deal of each other;&mdash;flirting, I suppose you would call
+it; but how are young people to get along without flirting? I liked him
+very much, for I always had a fancy for handsome men; and if you ask
+him, he will tell you that I was handsome too at that time. Oh, I was!
+you may look at me and be incredulous; but I was a belle in those days;
+and I had a great many handsome men around me, and some not handsome.
+....Was I English? No. You don't understand how I could have seen so
+much of your father. Well, never doubt a story till you have heard the
+whole of it. I was an American girl; but my father and mother were both
+dead, and I was sent to England, to be brought up by an aunt, who was
+the nearest relation I had in the world. She had married an Englishman
+and settled in England."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then we may claim you," said Lawrence. "To all intents and purposes
+you are English."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Might have been," returned Mrs. Thayer. "The flirtation ran very high,
+I can tell you, between your father and me. He was a poor man then. I
+understand he has nobly recovered from that fault. Is it true? People
+say he is made of gold."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is no lack of the material article," Lawrence admitted.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No. Well, the other sort we know he had, or this would never be true
+of him now. I did not look so far ahead then. There is no telling what
+would have happened, but for a little thing. Just see how things go. I
+might have married in England, and all my life would have been
+different; and then came along Mr. Thayer. And the way I came to know
+him was this. A cousin of mine in America was going to be married, and
+her friend was a friend of Mr. Thayer. Mr. Thayer was coming over to
+England, and my cousin charged him with a little piece of wedding cake
+in white paper to bring to me. Just that little white packet! and Mr.
+Thayer brought it, and we saw one another, and the end was, I have
+lived my life on the other side instead of on this side."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's our loss, I am sure," said St. Leger civilly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are too polite to say it is mine, but I know you think so. Perhaps
+it is. At any rate, I was determined, and am determined, that my
+daughter shall see and choose for herself which hemisphere she will
+live in. What are you doing in Italy?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What everybody does in Italy, looking at the old and enjoying the new."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah, that's what it is!" said Mrs. Thayer approvingly. "That is what
+one enjoys. But my husband is one of the other sort. We divide Italy
+between us. He looks at the marbles, and I eat the pomegranates. Do you
+like pomegranates?&mdash;No? I delight in them, and in everything else fresh
+and new and sweet and acid. But what I want to know, Mr. St. Leger,
+is&mdash;how come these old ruins to be so worth looking at? Hasn't the
+human race made progress? Can't we raise as good buildings now-a-days,
+and as good to see, as those old heathen did?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose we can, when we copy their work exactly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But how is that? Christians ought to do better work than heathens. I
+do not understand it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said St. Leger, "I do not understand it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Old poetry&mdash;that's what they study so much at Oxford and Cambridge,
+and everywhere else;&mdash;and old pictures, and old statues. I think the
+world ought to grow wiser as it grows older. I believe it is prejudice.
+There's my husband crazy to go to Paesturn,&mdash;I'm glad he can't; the
+marshes or something are so unhealthy; but I'm going to arrange for you
+an expedition to the Punta&mdash;Punta di something&mdash;the toe of the boot,
+you know; it's delightful; you go on donkeys, and you have the most
+charming views, and what I know you like better than anything,&mdash;the
+most charming opportunities for flirtation."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It will have to be Miss Thayer and I then," said Lawrence. "Miss
+Copley does not know how."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nonsense! Don't tell me. Every girl does. She has her own way, I
+suppose. Makes it more piquant&mdash;and <I>piquing</I>."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lawrence looked over towards the innocent face, so innocent of anything
+false, he knew, or even of anything ambiguous; a face of pure womanly
+nature, childlike in its naturalness, although womanly in its gravity.
+Perhaps he drew a swift comparison between a man's chances with a face
+of that sort, and the counter advantages of Christina's more
+conventional beauty. Mr. Thayer had sat down beside Dolly and was
+drawing her into talk.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are fond of art, Miss Copley. I remember we met you first in the
+room of the dying gladiator, in the Capitoline Museum. But everybody
+has to go to see the dying gladiator and the rest."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose so," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I remember, though, I thought you were enjoying it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, I was."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I can always find out whether people really enjoy things. How many
+times did you go to see the gladiator? Let me see,&mdash;you were in Rome
+three months?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nearer four."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Four! Well, and how many times did you see the gladiator?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't quite know. Half a dozen times, I think. I went until I had
+got it by heart; and now I can look at it whenever I like."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Humph!" said Mr. Thayer. "The only thing Christina wanted to see a
+second time was the mosaics; and those she did not get by heart
+exactly, but brought them away, a good many of them, bodily. And have
+you developed any taste for architecture during your travels?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I take great pleasure in some architecture," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"May I ask what instances? I am curious to see how our tastes
+harmonise."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah, but I know nothing about it," said Dolly. "I am entirely&mdash;or
+almost entirely&mdash;ignorant; and you know and understand."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'Almost entirely?'" said Mr. Thayer. "You have studied the subject?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A little," said Dolly, smiling and blushing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do favour me. I am desirous to know what you have seen that
+particularly pleased you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The cathedral at Limburg."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Limburg. Oh&mdash;ah! yes, it was <I>there</I> we first met you. I was thinking
+it was in the museum of the Capitol. Limburg. You liked that?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very much!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Romanesque&mdash;or rather Transition."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not know what Romanesque is, or Transition either."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did you notice the round arches and the pointed arches?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not remember. Yes, I do remember the round arches; but I was
+thinking rather of the effect of the whole."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The church at Limburg shows a mixture of the round Romanesque and the
+pointed Gothic; Gothic was preparing; that sort of thing belongs to the
+first half of the thirteenth century. Well, that bespeaks very good
+taste. What next would you mention, Miss Dolly?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know; I have enjoyed so many things. Perhaps I should say the
+Doge's palace at Venice."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ha! the Doge's palace, hey? You like the pink and white marble."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't you, Mr. Thayer?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's not what one looks for in architecture. What do you say to St.
+Peter's?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You will find a great deal of fault with me. I did not care for it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not? It is Michael Angelo's work."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But knowing the artist is no reason for admiring the work," said
+Dolly, smiling.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are very independent! St. Peter's! Not to admire St. Peter's!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I admired the magnificence, and the power, and a great many things;
+but I did not like the building. Not nearly so much as some others."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now I wish we could go to Paestum, and see what you would say to pure
+old Greek work. But it would be as much as our lives are worth, I
+suppose."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, Mr. Thayer," his wife cried; "don't talk about Paestum; they are
+going to-morrow to the point."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The point? what point? the coast is full of points."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The Punta di Campanella, papa," said Christina.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I thought you were going to Capri?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We'll keep Capri till Sandie comes. He would be a help on the water.
+All our marine excursions we will keep until Sandie comes. I only hope
+he'll be good and come."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The very air seemed full of pleasant anticipations; and Dolly would
+have been extremely happy; was happy; until on going in to dinner she
+saw the wineglasses on the table, and bottles suspiciously cooling in
+water. Her heart sank down, down. If she had had time and had dared,
+she would have remonstrated; but yet what could she say? She knew, too,
+that the wine at Mr. Thayer's table, like everything else on it, would
+be of the best procurable; better and more alluring than her father
+could get elsewhere. In her secret heart there was a bitter unspoken
+cry of remonstrance. O friends! O friends!&mdash;she was ready to say,&mdash;do
+you know what you are doing? You are dropping sweet poison into my
+life; bitter poison; deadly poison, where you little think it; and you
+do it with smiles and coloured glasses! She could hardly eat her
+dinner. She saw with indescribable pain and a sort of powerless
+despair, how Mr. Copley felt the license of his friend's house and
+example, and how the delicacy of the vintages offered him acted to dull
+his conscience; Mr. Thayer praising them and hospitably pressing his
+guest to partake. He himself drank very moderately and in a kind of
+mere matter-of-fact way; it was part of the dinner routine; and St.
+Leger tasted, as a man who knows indeed what is good, but also makes it
+a matter of no moment; no more than his bread or his napkin. Mr. Copley
+drank with eager gusto, and glass after glass; even, Dolly thought, in
+a kind of bravado. And this would go on every day while their visit
+lasted; and perhaps not at dinner only; there were luncheons, and for
+aught she knew, suppers. Dolly's heart was hot within her; so hot that
+after dinner she could not keep herself from speaking on the subject to
+Christina. Yet she must begin as far from her father as possible. The
+two girls were sitting on the bank under a fig-tree, looking out on the
+wonderful spectacle of the bay of Naples at evening.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is a matter I have been thinking a great deal about lately," she
+said, with a little heartbeat at her daring.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I daresay," laughed Christina. "That is quite in your way. Oh, I do
+wish Sandie would come! He <I>ought</I> to be here."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"This is no laughing matter, Christina. It is a serious question."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are never anything but serious, are you?" said her friend. "If you
+have a fault, it is that, Dolly. You don't laugh enough."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly was silent and swallowed her answer; for what did Christina know
+about it? <I>She</I> had not to watch over her father; her father watched
+over her. Presently she began again; her voice had a little strain in
+its tone.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"This is something for you and me to consider; for you and me, and
+other women who can do anything. Christina, did you ever think about
+the use of wine?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Wine?" echoed Miss Thayer, a good deal mystified. "The use of it? I
+don't know any use of it, except to give people, gentlemen, something
+to talk of at dinner. Oh, it is good in sickness, I suppose. What are
+you thinking of?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am thinking of the harm it does," said Dolly in a low voice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Harm? What harm? You are not one of those absurd people I have heard
+of, who cut down their apple-trees for fear the apples will be made
+into cider?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have no apple-trees to cut down," said Dolly. "But don't you know,
+Christina, that there is such a thing as drinking too much wine? and
+what comes of it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not among our sort of people," said Christina. "I know there are such
+things as drunkards; but they are in the lower classes, who drink
+whisky and gin. Not among gentlemen."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly choked, and turned her face away to hide the eyes full of tears.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Too much wine?" Christina repeated. "One may have too much of
+anything. Too much fire will burn up your house; yet fire is a good
+thing."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's only burning up your house," said Dolly sorrowfully.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"<I>Only</I> burning up your house! Dolly Copley, what are you thinking of?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am thinking of something infinitely worse. I am thinking of a man
+losing his manhood; of families losing their stay and their joy,
+because the father, or the husband, or the brother, has lost
+himself!&mdash;gone down below his standing as an intellectual
+creature;&mdash;become a mere animal, given up to low pleasures which make
+him sink lower and lower in the scale of humanity. I am thinking of
+<I>his</I> loss and of <I>their</I> loss, Christina. I am thinking of the
+dreadfulness of being ashamed of the dearest thing you have, and the
+way hearts break under it. And don't you know that when the love of
+wine and the like gets hold of a person, it is stronger than he is? It
+makes a slave of him, so that he cannot help himself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Christina's thoughts made a rapid flight over all the persons for whom
+Dolly could possibly fear such a fate, or in whom she could possibly
+have seen such an example. But Mr. St. Leger had the clear, fresh
+colour of perfect health and condition; Mr. Copley loved wine
+evidently, but drank it like a gentleman, and gave, to her eyes, no
+sign of being enslaved. What could Dolly be thinking of? Her mother was
+out of the question.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't make out what you are at, Dolly," she said. "Such things do
+not happen in our class of society."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, they do. They happen in every class. And the highest ought to set
+an example to the lowest."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No use if they did. Anyhow, Dolly, it is nothing you and I can meddle
+with."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think we ought not to have wine on our tables."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mercy! Everybody does that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is offering temptation."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To whom? Our friends are not that sort of people."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How do you know but they may be? How can you tell but the taste or the
+tendency may be where you least think of it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You don't mean that Mr. St. Leger has anything of that sort?" said
+Christina, facing round upon her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No more than other people, so far as I know. I am speaking in general,
+Christina. The thing is in the world; and we, I do think, we whose
+example would influence people,&mdash;I suppose everybody's example
+influences somebody else&mdash;I think we ought to do what we can."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And not have wine on our dinner-tables!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Would that be so very dreadful?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It would be very inconvenient, I can tell you, and very disagreeable.
+Fancy! no wine on the table. No one could understand it. And how our
+dinner-tables would look, Dolly, with the wine-glasses and the
+decanters taken off! And then, what would people talk about? Wine is
+such a help in getting through with a dinner-party. People who do not
+know anything else, and cannot talk of anything else, can taste wine;
+and have plenty to say about its colour, and its <I>bouquet</I>, and its
+age, and its growth, and its manufacture, and where it can be got
+genuine, and how it can be adulterated. And so one gets through with
+the dinner quite comfortably."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I should not want to see people who knew no more than that," said
+Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, but you must."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And it does not do to be unfashionable."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, Christina! Do you recollect what is said in the epistle of
+John&mdash;'The world knoweth us not'? I do not see how a Christian <I>can</I> be
+fashionable. To be fashionable, one must follow the ways of the world."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, we must follow some of them," cried Christina, flaring up, "or
+people will not have anything to do with you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's what Christ said,&mdash;'Because ye are not of the world, ...
+therefore the world hateth you.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you like to have people hate you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No; but rather that than have Jesus say I do not belong to Him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dolly," said Christina, "you are <I>very</I> high-flown! That might just do
+for one of Sandie's speeches."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am glad Mr. Shubrick is such a wise man."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He's just a bit too wise for me. You see, I am not so superior. I
+should like to take him down a peg. And I&mdash;will if he don't come soon."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He did not come in time for the next day's pleasure-party; so the young
+ladies had only Mr. St. Leger and Mr. Thayer to accompany them. Mrs.
+Copley "went on no such tramps," she said; and Mrs. Thayer avowed she
+was tired of them. The expedition took all day, for they went early and
+came back late, to avoid the central heat of midday. It was an
+extremely beautiful little journey; the road commanding a long series
+of magnificent views, almost from their first setting out. They went on
+donkeys, which was a favourite way with Dolly; at Massa they stopped
+for a cup of coffee; they climbed Monte San Costanzo; interviewed the
+hermit and enjoyed the prospect; and finally settled themselves for as
+pleasant a rest as possible among the myrtles on the solitary point of
+the coast. From here their eyes had a constant regale. The blue
+Mediterranean spread out before them, Capri in the middle distance, and
+the beauties of the shore nearer by, were an endless entertainment for
+Dolly. Christina declared she had seen it all before; Mr. Thayer found
+nothing worthy of much attention unless it had antiquities to be
+examined; and the fourth member of the party was somewhat too busy with
+human and social interests to leave his attention free.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. St. Leger had been now for a long time very unobtrusive in his
+attentions to Dolly, and Dolly partly hoped he had given her up; but
+that was a mistake. Perhaps he thought it was only a matter of time,
+for Dolly to get acquainted with him and accustomed to him; perhaps he
+thought himself sure of his game, if the fish had only line enough.
+Having the powerful support of Dolly's father and mother, all worldly
+interests on the side of his suit, a person and presence certainly
+unobjectionable, to say the least; how could a girl like Dolly, in the
+long run, remain unimpressed? He would give her time. Meanwhile, Mr.
+St. Leger was enjoying himself; seeing her daily and familiarly; he
+could wait comfortably. It would appear by all this that Lawrence was
+not an ardent man; but constitutions are different; there is an ardour
+of attack, and there is an ardour of persistence; and the latter, I
+think, belonged to him. Besides, he had sense enough to see that a too
+eager pressing of his cause with Dolly would ruin all. So he had
+waited, not discontentedly, and bided his time. Now, however, he began
+to think it desirable on many accounts to have the question decided.
+Mr. Copley would not stay much longer in Italy, Lawrence was certain,
+and the present way of life would come to an end; if his advantages
+were ever to bear fruit, it should be ripe now. Moreover, one or two
+other, and seemingly inconsistent, considerations came in. Lawrence
+admired Miss Thayer. Her beauty was even more striking, to his fancy,
+than Dolly's; if it were also more like other beauties he had seen. She
+had money too, and Dolly had none. Truly, Mr. St. Leger had enough of
+his own; but when did ever a man with enough not therefore desire more?
+He admired Christina very much; she suited him; if Dolly should prove
+after all obdurate, here was his chance for making himself amends.
+Cool! for an ardent lover; but Mr. St. Leger <I>was</I> of a calm
+temperament, and these suggestions did come into his mind back of his
+liking for Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+This liking was strong upon him the day of the excursion to the Punta
+di Campanella. Of necessity he was Christina's special attendant, Mr.
+Thayer being Dolly's. Many girls would not have relished such an
+arrangement, Lawrence knew; his sisters would not. And Dolly was in an
+acme of delight. Lawrence watched her whenever they came near each
+other, and marvelled at the sweet, childish-womanish face. It was in a
+ripple of pleasure; the brown, considerate eyes were sparkling, roving
+with quick, watchful glances over everything, and losing as few as
+possible of the details of the way. Talking to Mr. Thayer now and then,
+Lawrence saw her, with the most innocent, sweet mouth in the world; her
+smile and that play of lip and eye bewitched him whenever he got a
+glimpse of it. The play of Christina's features was never so utterly
+free, so absent from thought of self, so artless in its fun. Now and
+then, too, there came the soft, low ring of a clear voice, in laughter
+or talking, bearing the same characteristics of a sweet spirit and a
+simple heart; and yet, when in repose, Dolly's face was strong in its
+sense and womanliness. The combination held Mr. St. Leger captive. I do
+not know how he carried on his needful attentions to his companion;
+with a mechanical necessity, I suppose; when all the while he was
+watching Dolly and contrasting the two girls. He was not such a fool as
+not to know which indications promised him the best wife; or if not
+him, the man who could get her. And he resolved, if a chance offered,
+he would speak to Dolly that very day. For here was Christina, if his
+other hope failed. He <I>was</I> cool; nevertheless, he was in earnest.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They had climbed up Monte San Costanzo and admired the view. They had
+rested, and enjoyed a capital lunch among the myrtles on the point. It
+was when they were on their way home in the afternoon, and not till
+then, that the opportunity presented itself which he had wished for. On
+the way home, the order of march was broken up. Christina sometimes
+dropped St. Leger to ride with her father; sometimes called Dolly to be
+her companion; and at last, declaring that she did not want Mr. St.
+Leger to have a sense of sameness about the day, she set off with her
+father ahead, begging Dolly to amuse the other gentleman.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Which Dolly made not the least effort to do. The scenery was growing
+more lovely with every minute's lengthening shadows; and she rode
+along, giving all her attention to it, not making to Mr. St. Leger even
+the remarks she might have made to Mr. Thayer. The change of companions
+to her was not welcome. St. Leger found the burden of conversation must
+lie upon him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We have not seen much of each other for a long time," he began.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Only two or three times a day," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And you think that is enough, perhaps!" said Lawrence hastily.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't you think more would have a tendency to produce what Christina
+calls a 'sense of sameness'?" said Dolly, turning towards him a face
+all dimpled with fun.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is according to circumstances. The idea is not flattering. But,
+Miss Dolly," said Lawrence, pulling himself up, "in all this
+while&mdash;these months&mdash;that we have been travelling together, we have had
+time to learn to know each other pretty well. <I>You</I> must have been able
+to make up your mind about me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Which part of your character?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Miss Dolly," said Lawrence with some heat, "you know what I mean."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do I? But I did not know that I had to make up my mind about anything
+concerning you; I thought that was done long ago."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And you do not like me any better now than you did then?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Perhaps I do," said Dolly slowly. "I always liked you, Mr. St. Leger,
+and I had cause. You have been a very kind friend to us."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"For your sake, Dolly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am sorry for that," she said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And I have waited all this time in the hope that you would get
+accustomed to me, and your objections would wear away. You know what
+your father and mother wish concerning us. Does their wish not weigh
+with you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said Dolly very quietly. "This is my affair, not theirs."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is their affair so far as your interests are involved. And I do not
+wish to praise myself; but you know they think that those interests
+would be secured by a marriage with me. And I believe I could make you
+happy, Dolly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly shook her head. "How could you?" she said. "We belong to two
+opposite parties, and are following two different lines of life. You
+would not like my way, and I should not like yours. How could either of
+us be happy?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Even granting all that," said Lawrence, "why should you not bear with
+my peculiarities, and I with yours, and neither be the worse? That is
+very frequently done."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is it? I do not think it ought to be done."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Let us prove that it can be. I will never interfere with you, Dolly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, you would," said Dolly, dimpling all over again. "Do you think
+you would make up your mind to have no wine in your cellar or on your
+table? Take that for one thing. I should have no wine on mine."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's a crotchet of yours," said he, smiling at her: he thought if
+<I>this</I> were all, the thing might be managed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is only one thing, Mr. St. Leger," Dolly went on very gravely
+now. "I should be unfashionable in a hundred ways, and you would not
+like that. I should spend money on objects and for causes that you
+would not care about nor agree to. I am telling you all this to
+reconcile you to doing without me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your refusal is absolute, then?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You would not bring up these extraneous things, Dolly, if you had any
+love for me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not know why that should make any difference. It might make it
+hard."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you <I>have</I> no love for me?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am afraid not," said Dolly gently. "Not what you mean. And without
+that, you would not wish for a different answer from me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, I would!" said he. "All that would come; but you know your own
+business best."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly thought she did, and the proposition remained uncontroverted.
+Therewith the discourse died; and the miles that remained were made in
+unsocial silence. Dolly feared she had given some pain, but doubted it
+could not be very great; and she was glad to have the explanation over.
+Perhaps the pain was more than she knew, although Lawrence certainly
+was not a desperate wooer; nevertheless, he was disappointed, and he
+was mortified, and mortification is hard to a man. For the matter of
+that, it is hard to anybody. It was not till the villa occupied by the
+Thayers was close before them that he spoke again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you expect to stay much longer in Italy?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am afraid not," Dolly answered.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have reason to think Mr. Copley will not. Indeed, I know as much. I
+thought you might like to be informed."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly said nothing. Her eyes roved over the beautiful bay, almost with
+an echo of Eve's "Must I then leave thee, Paradise?" in her heart. The
+smoke curling up from Vesuvius caught the light; little sails skimming
+over the sea reflected it; the sweetness of thousands of roses and
+orange blossoms, and countless other flowers, filled all the air; it
+was a time and a scene of nature's most abundant and beautiful bounty.
+Dolly checked her donkey, and for a few minutes stood looking; then
+with a brave determination that she would enjoy it all as much as she
+could while she had it, she went into the house.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap29"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+WHITHER NOW?
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+The days that followed were full of pleasure; and Dolly kept to her
+resolution, not to spoil the present by care about the future. Indeed,
+the balmy air and the genial light and all the wealth that nature has
+bestowed upon southern Italy, were a help to such a resolution. The
+infinite lavish fulness of the present quite laughed at the idea of
+barrenness or want anywhere in time to come. Dolly knew that was
+nature's subtle flattery, not to be trusted, and yet she willingly
+admitted the flattery. Nothing should spoil these days.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+One evening she and Christina were sitting again on the bank, wondering
+at the marvellous sunset panorama.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How difficult it is, looking at this," said Dolly, "to believe that
+there is want and misery in the world."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why should you believe it?" said Christina. "I don't think there is,
+except where people have brought it upon themselves."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"People bring it upon other people. But to look at this, one would say
+it was impossible. And this is how the world was meant to be, I
+suppose."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do you mean? how?" said Christina. "It is rich to hear you talk."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, look at it, Christina! Look at the colours and the lights and the
+sparkle everywhere, the perfect wealth of loveliness in form as well as
+colour; and if you think a minute you will know that He who made it all
+meant people to be happy, and meant them to be as full of happiness as
+the earth is full of beauty."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't see 'lights' and 'colours' so much as you do, Dolly; I am not
+an artist; but if God meant them to be happy, why aren't they happy?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sin," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What's the use of thinking about it? You and I cannot help it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Christina, that is not true. We can help some of it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"By giving money, you mean? Well, we do, whenever we see occasion; but
+there is no end of the cheatery."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Giving money will not take away the world's misery, Christina."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What will, then? It will do a good deal."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It will do a good deal, but it does not touch the root of the trouble."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What does, Dolly?&mdash;you dreamer."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The knowledge of Christ."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, it is the business of clergymen and missionaries to give them
+that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Prove it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, that's what they are for."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you think there are enough of them to preach the good news to every
+creature?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, then, there ought to be more."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And in the meantime?&mdash;Tell me, Christina, to whom was that command
+given, to preach the gospel to every creature?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To the apostles, of course!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Twelve men? Or eleven men, rather. They could not. No, it was given to
+all the disciples; and so, Christina, it was given to you, and to me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To preach the gospel!" said Christina.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is, just to tell the good news."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And to whom do you propose we should tell it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The command says, everybody."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How can you and I do that, Dolly?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is just what I am studying, Christina. I do not quite know. But
+when I look out on all this wonderful beauty, and see what it means,
+and think how miserable the world is,&mdash;just the very opposite,&mdash;I feel
+that I must do it, somehow or other."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Christina lifted her arms above her head and clapped her hands
+together. "Mad, mad!" she exclaimed&mdash;"you are just gone mad, Dolly. Oh,
+I wish you'd get married, and forget all your whimsies. The right sort
+of man would make you forget them. Haven't you found the right sort of
+man yet?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The right sort of man would help me carry them out."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It must be my Sandie, then; there isn't another match for you in
+extravagant ideas in all this world. What does Mr. St. Leger think of
+them?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I never asked him. I suppose he would take very much your view."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And you don't care what view he takes?" said Christina, looking
+sharply at her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not in the least. Except for his own sake."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The one drawback upon the perfect felicity of this visit was, that the
+said Sandie did not appear. They could not wait for him; they went on
+the most charming of excursions, by sea and land, wishing for him; in
+which wish Dolly heartily shared. It had been one of the pleasures she
+had promised herself in coming to the Thayers' that she should see Mr.
+Shubrick again. He had interested her singularly, and even taken not a
+little hold of her fancy. So she was honestly disappointed when at last
+a note came from him, saying that he found it impossible to join the
+party.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That means just that he has something on hand that he calls
+'duty'&mdash;which anybody else would put off or hand over," said Christina,
+pouting.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Duty is a very good reason," said Dolly. "Don't you see, you are sure
+of Mr. Shubrick, that in any case he will not do what he thinks wrong?
+I think you ought to be a very happy woman, Christina."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+But the excursions were made without Mr. Shubrick's social or material
+help. They went to Capri; they visited the grottoes; nay, they made a
+party to go up Vesuvius. All that was to be seen, they saw; and, as
+Christina declared, they left nothing undone that they could do. Then
+came the breaking up.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are you expecting to go back to that stuffy little place at Sorrento?"
+Mr. Copley asked. It was the evening before their departure, and all
+the party were sitting, scattered about upon the verandah.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Father!" cried Dolly. "It is the airiest, floweriest, sunniest,
+brightest, most delightful altogether house, that ever took lodgers in!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It certainly wasn't stuffy, Mr. Copley," said his wife.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dolly likes it because you couldn't get a glass of good wine in the
+house. Whatever the rest of humanity like, she makes war upon. I
+conclude you are reckoning upon going back there, my wife and daughter?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are not you, Mr. Copley?" his wife asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I must be excused."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then where are you going?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Home."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Home!" exclaimed Mrs. Copley. "Do you mean <I>home?</I> Boston?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A Boston woman thinks Boston is the centre of the universe, you may
+notice," said Mr. Copley, turning to Mr. Thayer. "It's a curious
+peculiarity. No matter what other cities on the face of the earth you
+show her, her soul turns back to Boston."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't say anything against Boston," said Mrs. Thayer; "it's a good
+little place. I know, when Mr. Thayer first carried me there, it took
+me a while to get accustomed to it;&mdash;things on a different scale, you
+know, and looked at from a different point of view; but I soon found
+admirers, and then friends. Oh, I assure you, Boston and I were very
+fond of each other in those days; and though I lost my claims to
+admiration a long time ago, I have kept my friends."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have no doubt the admirers are still there too," said Mr. Copley.
+"Does Mrs. Thayer mean to say she has no admirers? I profess myself
+one!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Christina takes the admiration now-a-days. I am contented with that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And so you conquer by proxy."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mr. Copley," here put in his wife, "if you do not mean America by
+'home,' what do you mean? and where are you going?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where my home has been for a number of years. England&mdash;London."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But you have given up your office?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am half sorry, that is a fact."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then what should you do in London?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dear, of the many hundred thousands who call London their home,
+very few have an office."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But they have business of some kind?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is a Boston notion. Did you ever observe, Thayer, that a
+Massachusetts man has no idea of life without business? It is the
+reason why he is in the world, to him; it never occurs to him that
+<I>play</I> might be occasionally useful. I declare! I believe they don't
+know the meaning of the word in America; it has dropped out, like a
+forgotten art."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But, father," Dolly spoke up now, "if you are going to London, mother
+and I cannot possibly go to Sorrento."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't quite see the logic of that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, we cannot be here in Italy quite alone."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll leave you St. Leger to take care of you and bring you back; as he
+took you away."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I should be very happy to fall in with that plan," said Lawrence
+slowly; "but I fear I cannot make it out. I have been making
+arrangements to go into Greece, seeing that I am so near it. And I may
+quite possibly spend another winter in Rome."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was a pause, and when Mr. Copley spoke again there was another
+sound in his voice. It was not his will to betray it, but Dolly heard
+the chagrin and disappointment.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well," said he, "such independent travellers as you two ladies can do
+pretty comfortably alone in that paragon of lodging-houses."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But not make the journey home alone, father."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"When are you coming?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"When you do, of course," said his wife.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly knew it must be so and not otherwise. She sat still and
+down-hearted, looking abroad over the bay of Naples, over all the
+shores of which the moonlight was quivering or lying in still floods of
+calm beauty. From this, ay, and from everything that was like this, in
+either its fairness or its tranquillity, she must go. There had been a
+little lull in her cares since they came to Sorrento; the lull was
+over. Back to London!&mdash;And that meant, back to everything from which
+she had hoped to escape. How fondly she had hoped, once her father was
+away from the scene of his habits and temptations, he could be saved to
+himself and his family; and perhaps even lured back to America where he
+would be comparatively safe. Now where was that hope, or any other?
+Suddenly Dolly changed her place and sat down close beside Mr. Copley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Father, I wish you would take us back to our real old home&mdash;back to
+Roxbury!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Can't do it, my pet."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But, father, why not? What should keep you in England?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Business."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now that you are out of the office?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes. Do you think all business is confined to the consuls' offices? A
+few other people have something to do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly heard no tone of hope-giving in her father's words. She ceased
+and sat silent, leaning upon his knee as she was and looking off into
+the moonlight. Mrs. Thayer and Mr. St. Leger were carrying on a lively
+discourse about people and things unknown to her; Mr. Thayer was
+smoking; Mrs. Copley was silent and sorry and cast-down, like herself,
+she knew. Dolly's eye went roving through the moonlight as if it were
+never going to see moonlight again; and her heart was taking up the old
+question, and feeling it too heavy to carry, how should she save her
+father from his temptation? Under the pressure Dolly's heart felt very
+low; until again those words came and lifted her up,&mdash;"Who shall
+separate us from the love of Christ?" After that the sweet moonbeams
+seemed to be full of those words. I am <I>not</I> alone, thought Dolly, I am
+<I>not</I> forgotten; and He does not mean that I should be crushed, or
+hurt, by this arrangement of things, which I strove so to hinder. I
+will not be one of the "little faith" people. I will just trust the
+Lord&mdash;my Lord. What I cannot do, He can; and His ways are wonderful and
+past finding out.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+So she was quieted. And yet as she sat there it came over Dolly's mind,
+as things will, quite unbidden; it came over her to think how life
+would go on here, in Italy, with Christina, after she was gone. When
+the lovely Italian chapter of her own life was closed up and ended,
+when she would be far away out of sight of Vesuvius, in the fogs of
+London, the sun of Naples would still be shining on the Thayers' villa.
+They would go sailing on blue water, or floating over the gold and
+purple reflections which sometimes seemed to fill both water and air;
+they would see the white shafts of Paestum, yes, it would be soon cool
+enough for that; or if they must wait for Paestum, there were enough
+old monasteries and ruined castles and beauties of the like sort to
+keep them busy for many a day. Beauties which Dolly and Mr. Thayer
+loved. Nobody else in the house loved them. Christina had hardly an eye
+for them; and St. Leger, if he looked, did not care for what he saw.
+Nevertheless, they three would go picnicking through the wonderful old
+land, where every step was on monumental splendour or historical ashes,
+and the sights would be before them; whether they had eyes to see or
+no. For Dolly it was all done. She was glad she had had so much and
+enjoyed so much; and that enjoyment had given memory such a treasure of
+things to keep, that were hers for all time, and could be looked at in
+memory's chambers whenever she pleased. Yet she could not see the
+moonlight on the bay of Naples this evening for the last time, and
+remember towards what she was turning her face, without some tears
+coming that nobody saw&mdash;tears that were salt and hot.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The journey home was a contrast to the way by which they had come. It
+pleased Mr. Copley to go by sea from Naples to Marseilles, and from
+thence through France as fast as the ground could be passed over, till
+they reached Dover. And although those were not the days of lightning
+travel, yet travelling continually, the effect was of one swift,
+confused rush between Naples and London. Instead of the leisurely,
+winding course pursued to Dresden, and from Dresden to Venice,
+deviating at will from the shortest or the most obvious route, stopping
+at will at any point where the fancy took them, dawdling, speculating,
+enjoying, getting good out of every step of the way,&mdash;this journey was
+a sort of flash from the one end of it to the other, with nothing seen
+or remembered between but the one item of fatigue. So it came about,
+that when they found themselves in a London lodging-house, and Mrs.
+Copley and Dolly sat down and looked at each other, they had the
+feeling of having left Sorrento last evening, and of being dazed with
+the sudden transition from Sorrento and sunshine to London and smoke.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well!" said Mr. Copley, rubbing his hands, "here we are!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't feel as if I was anywhere," said his wife. "My head's in a
+whirl. Is this the way you like to travel, Frank?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The purpose of travelling, my dear," said Mr. Copley, still rubbing
+his hands&mdash;it must have been with satisfaction, for it could not have
+been with cold&mdash;"the purpose of travel is&mdash;to get over the ground."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It wasn't my purpose when I went away."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No&mdash;but when you came back."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It wasn't my purpose anyway," said Mrs. Copley. "I should never stir
+from my place if I had to move the way you have kept me moving. My head
+is in a whirl."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll take hold and turn it round the other way."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think it is quite likely you will! I should like to know what you
+mean to do with us, now you have got us here."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Keep you here."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What are you going to do with yourself, Mr. Copley?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There are always so many uses that I can make of myself, more than I
+have time for, that I cannot tell which I shall take hold of first."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+With which utterance he quitted the room, almost before it was fairly
+out of his mouth. The two left behind sat and looked at the room, and
+then at each other.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What are we going to do now, Dolly?" Mrs. Copley asked in evidently
+dismayed uncertainty.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know, mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How long do you suppose your father will be contented to stay in this
+house?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have no means of guessing, mother. I don't know why we are here at
+all."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We had to go somewhere, I suppose, when we came to London&mdash;just for
+the first; but I can't stay <I>here</I>, Dolly!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course not, mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then where are we going to? It is all very well to say 'of course
+not;' but where can we go, Dolly?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have been thinking about it, mother, dear, but I have not found out
+yet. If we knew how long father wanted to stay in London"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is no use asking that. I can tell you beforehand. He don't know
+himself. But it is my belief he'll find something or other to make him
+want to stay here the rest of his life."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"O mother, I hope not!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is no use speaking to him about it, Dolly. Even if he knew, he
+would not own it, but that's my belief; and I can't bear London, Dolly.
+A very few days of this noise and darkness would just put me back where
+I was before we went away. I know it would."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+"This is a darker day than common; they are not all so."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They are all like gloom itself, compared to where we have been. I tell
+you, Dolly, I cannot stand it. After Sorrento, I cannot bear this."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's my belief, mother, you want home and Roxbury air. Why don't you
+represent that to father, forcibly?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dolly, I never put myself in the way of your father's pleasure. He
+must take his pleasure; and he likes London. How he can, I don't see;
+but he does, and so do a great many other people; it may be a want of
+taste in me; I daresay it is; but I shall not put myself in the way of
+his pleasure. I'll stand it as long as I can, and when I cannot stand
+it any longer, I'll die. It will come to an end some time."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mother, don't talk so! We'll coax father to finish up his business and
+go home to Roxbury. I am quite setting my heart on it. Only you have
+patience a little, and don't lose courage. I'll talk to father as soon
+as I get a chance."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What a dirty place this is!" was Mrs. Copley's next remark.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes. It is not like the rocks and the sea. A great city must be more
+or less so, I suppose."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I believe great cities are a mistake. I believe they were not meant to
+be built. They don't agree with me, anyway. Well, I'll lie down on that
+old sofa there&mdash;it's hard enough to have been one of Job's
+troubles&mdash;and see if I can get to sleep."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly drew a soft shawl over her, and sat down to keep watch alone. The
+familiar London sounds were not cheering to the ears which had been so
+lately listening to the lap of the waves and the rustling of the myrtle
+branches. And the dingy though comfortable London lodging-house was a
+poor exchange for the bay of Sorrento and the bright rooms full of the
+scents of orange flowers and roses and carnations. Dolly gave way a
+little and felt very down-hearted. Not merely for this change of her
+outside world, indeed; Dolly was not so weak; only in this case the
+outward symbolised the inward, and gave fitting form and imagery for
+it. The grime and confusion of London streets, to Dolly's fancy, were
+like the evil ways which she saw close upon her; and as roses and
+myrtles, so looked a fair family life of love and right-doing. Why
+not?&mdash;when He, who is Love itself and Righteousness immaculate,
+declares of Himself,&mdash;"I am the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the
+valleys." I do not think those words occurred to Dolly that night, but
+other Bible words did, after a while. Promises of the life that shall
+be over all the earth one day, when the wilderness and the desert
+places shall be no longer desolate or barren, but shall "rejoice and
+blossom as the rose;" when to the Lord's people, "the sun shall no
+longer be their light by day, neither for brightness shall the moon
+give light" to them; when "sorrow and sighing shall flee away," and
+"the days of their mourning shall be ended." The words were like a
+lovely chime of bells,&mdash;or like the breath from a whole garden of roses
+and orange flowers,&mdash;or like the sunset light on the bay of Naples; or
+anything else most majestic, sweet, and fair. What if there were
+shadowed places to go through first?&mdash;And a region of shadow Dolly
+surely knew she had entered now. She longed for her father to come
+home; she wanted to consult with him about their arrangements, and so
+arrive at some certainty respecting what she had to do and expect. But
+Dolly knew that an early coming home was scarce to be hoped for; and
+she providently roused her mother at ten o'clock, and persuaded her to
+go to bed. Then Dolly waited alone in truth, with not even her sleeping
+mother's company; very sad at heart, and clutching, as a lame man does
+his stick, at some of the words of comfort she knew. "Though I walk
+through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for
+Thou art with me." The case was not quite so bad, nor so good, with her
+as that; but the words were a strong staff to lean upon, nevertheless.
+And those others: "Because he hath set his love upon Me, therefore will
+I deliver him; I will set him on high, because he hath known My name.
+He shall call upon Me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in
+trouble;"... And, "There shall no evil happen to the just." Dolly
+stayed her heart on such words, while she waited for her father's
+coming. As it grew later and yet later she doubted whether she ought to
+wait. She was waiting however when he came, between twelve and one, but
+nearer the latter. She listened to his step on the stair, and knew all
+was not right; and when he opened the door, she saw. Her father had
+surely been taking wine or something; his face was flushed, his eyes
+were excited, and his manner was wandering.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dolly!&mdash;What are you here for?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I waited for you, father. I wanted to have a talk with you. But it's
+too late now," Dolly said, trembling.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Too late&mdash;yes, of course. Go to bed. That's the thing for you. London
+is a great place, Dolly!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alas! His expression of satisfaction was echoed in her heart by an
+anathema. It was no time then to say anything. Dolly went to bed and
+cried herself to sleep, longing for that sunshiny time of which it is
+promised to the Lord's people&mdash;"Thy sun shall no more go down by day;"
+and thankful beyond all power of words to express, even then in her
+sorrow, that another sun had even already risen upon her, in the warm
+light of which no utter darkness was possible.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was a day or two before, with her best watching, she could catch an
+opportunity to speak to her father. The second morning Mrs. Copley had
+headache and staid in bed, and Dolly and Mr. Copley were at breakfast
+alone.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How long, father, do you think you may find affairs to keep you in
+England?" Dolly began with her father's first cup of coffee.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"As long as I like, my dear. There is no limit. In England there are
+always things going on to keep a man alive, and to keep him busy."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Isn't that true in America equally?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't think so. I never found it so. Oh, there is enough to do
+there; but you don't find the same facilities, nor the same men to work
+with; and you don't know what to do with your money there when you have
+got it. England is the place! for a man who wants to live and to enjoy
+life."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It isn't for a woman," said Dolly. "At least, not for one woman.
+Father, don't you know mother is longing to go home, to Roxbury?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dolly, she is longing for something or other impossible, every day of
+her life."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But it would do her a great deal of good to be back there."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It would do me a great deal of harm."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was a pause here during which Dolly meditated, and Mr. Copley
+buttered pieces of toast and swallowed them with ominous despatch.
+Dolly saw he would be soon through his breakfast at that rate.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But, father," she began again, "are we to spend all the rest of our
+lives in England?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dear, I don't know anything about the future. I never look ahead.
+The day is as much as I can see through. I advise you to follow my
+example."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What are mother and I to do, then? We cannot stay permanently here, in
+this house."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What's the matter with it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nothing, as a lodging-house; but mother would not thrive or be happy
+in a London lodging-house."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"People's happiness is in their own power. It does not depend upon
+place. All the clergymen will tell you so. You must talk to your
+mother, Dolly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Father, I talked to <I>you</I> at Sorrento; but I remember you thought you
+could not live there."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That was Sorrento; but London!&mdash;London is the greatest city in the
+world. Every taste may be suited in London."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You know the air does not agree with mother. She will not be well if
+we keep her here," said Dolly anxiously; for she saw the last piece of
+toast on its way.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nonsense! That is fancy."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If it is fancy, it is just as good as reality. She was pining when we
+were here before, until we went down to Brierley; and she will lose all
+she has gained in her travelling if we keep her here now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well&mdash;I'll see what I can do," said Mr. Copley, rising from the table.
+"When is St. Leger coming back?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How should I know? I know nothing at all of his purposes but what he
+told us."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Have you thrown him over?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I never took him up."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you are more of a goose than I thought you. He'll be caught by
+that fair friend of yours, before he gets out of Italy. Good morning!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Copley hurried away; and Dolly was left to her doubts. What could
+so interest and hold him in a place where he had no official business,
+where his home was not, and he had no natural associations? Was it the
+attraction of mere pleasure, or was it pleasure under that mischievous,
+false face of gain, which men delight in and call speculation. And from
+speculation proper, carried on among the business haunts of men, there
+is not such a very wide step in the nature of things to the green level
+of the gaming-table. True, many men indulge in the one variety who have
+a horror of the other; but Dolly's father, she knew, had a horror of
+neither. Stocks, or dice, what did it matter? and in both varieties the
+men who played with him, she knew too, would help their play with wine.
+Against these combined powers, what was she? And what was to become of
+them all?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Part of the question was answered at dinner that evening. Mr. Copley
+announced that Brierley Cottage was unoccupied and that he had retaken
+it for them.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Brierley!" cried Mrs. Copley. "Brierley! Are we going back <I>there</I>
+again! Frank, do you mean that we are to spend all our lives apart in
+future?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not at all, my dear! If you will be so good as to stay with me, I
+shall be very happy."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In London! But you know very well I cannot live in London."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you can go down to Brierley."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And how often shall you come there?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"When the chinks of business are wide enough to let me slip through."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Business! All you live for is business. Mr. Copley, what do you expect
+is to become of Dolly, shut up in a cottage down in the country?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How is she to get married, you mean? <I>She</I> expects a fairy prince to
+come along one of these days; and of course he could find her at
+Brierley as easily as anywhere. It makes no difference in a fairy tale.
+In fact, the unlikely places are just the ones where the princes turn
+up."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You will not be serious!" sighed Mrs. Copley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Serious? I am nothing but serious. The regular suitor, proposed by the
+parents, has offered himself and been rejected; and now there is
+nothing to do but to wait for the fairy prince."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Poor Mrs. Copley gave it up. Her husband's words were always too quick
+for her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Brierley was afterwards discussed between her and Dolly. The proposal
+was welcome to neither of them. Yet London would not do for Mrs.
+Copley; she grew impatient of it more and more. And so, within a week
+after their arrival, they left it and went down again to their old home
+in the country. It felt like going to prison, Mrs. Copley said. Though
+the country was still full of summer's wealth and beauty; and it was
+impossible not to feel the momentary delight of the change from London.
+The little garden was crowded with flowers, the fields all around rich
+in grass and grain; the great trees of the park standing in their
+unchanged regal beauty; the air sweet as air could be, without orange
+blossoms. And yet it seemed to the two ladies, when Mr. Copley left
+them again after taking them down to the cottage, that they were shut
+off and shut up in a respectable and very eligible prison, from whence
+escape was doubtful.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap30"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XXX.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+DOWN HILL.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+To do Mr. Copley justice, he left the prison very well provided and
+furnished. The store closet and pantry were stocked; the house put in
+tolerable order, and two maids were taken down. The old gardener had
+disappeared, but Dolly declared she would keep the flowers in order
+herself. So for a number of weeks things really went not ill with them
+at Brierley. Dolly did keep the flowers in order, and she did a great
+many other things; the chief of which, however, was attending to her
+mother. How exquisitely she did this it would take a great deal of
+detail to tell. It was shown, or felt rather, for a great part, in very
+small particulars. Not only in taking care of her mother's wardrobe and
+toilette, like the most skilled of waiting-maids; not only in ordering
+and providing her meals like the most dainty of housekeepers; not only
+in tireless reading aloud of papers and books, whatever could be got to
+interest Mrs. Copley; these were part, but besides these there were a
+thousand little touches a day given to Mrs. Copley's comfort, that even
+herself hardly took any note of. Dolly's countenance never was seen to
+fall in her mother's presence, nor her spirits perceived to flag. She
+was like the flowers with which she filled the house and dressed the
+table; sweet and fresh and cheery and lovely. And so ministering, and
+so ministered to, I cannot say that the life of the mother and daughter
+was other than a happy one. If Mrs. Copley was sensible of a grievous
+want here and there, which made her nervous and irritable whenever she
+thought of it, the tenderness of Dolly's soothing and the contagion of
+Dolly's peace were irresistible; and if Dolly had a gnawing subject of
+care, which hurt and pricked and stung her perpetually, a cloud of fear
+darkening over her, from the shadow of which she could not get free;
+yet the loving care to ward off both the pain and the fear from her
+mother, helped at least to keep her own heart fresh and strong to bear
+whatever was coming.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+So in their little room, at their table, or about the flowers in the
+garden, or sitting in the honeysuckle porch reading, the mother and
+daughter were always together, and the days of late summer and then of
+autumn went by sweetly enough. And when the last roses were gone and
+the honeysuckle vines had ceased to send forth their breath of
+fragrance, and leaves turned sear, and the winds blew harsh from the
+sea, Dolly and Mrs. Copley made themselves all the snugger in the
+cottage; and knitting and reading was carried on in the glow of a good
+fire that filled all their little room with brightness. They were ready
+for winter; and winter when it came did not chill them; the household
+life was warm and busy. All this while they had the stir of frequent
+visits from Mr. Copley, and between whiles the expectation of them.
+They were never long; he came and went, Mrs. Copley said, like a gust
+of wind, with a rush and a whistle and a roar, and then was gone,
+leaving you to feel how still it was. However, these gusts of wind
+brought a great deal of refreshment. Mr. Copley always came with his
+hands full of papers; always had the last London or Edinburgh
+Quarterly, and generally some other book or books for his wife and
+daughter to delight themselves withal. And though Dolly was not always
+satisfied with her father's appearance, yet on the whole he gave her no
+new or increased occasion for anxiety.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+So the autumn and winter went not ill away. The cottage had no
+visitors. It was at some distance from the village, and in the village
+there was hardly anybody that would have held himself entitled to visit
+there. The doctor was an old bachelor. The rector took no account of
+the two stranger ladies whom now and then his eye roved over in service
+time. Truly they were not often to be seen in his church, for the
+distance was too far for Mrs. Copley to walk, unless in exceptionally
+good days; when the weather and the footing and her own state of body
+and mind were in rare harmony over the undertaking. There was nobody
+else to take notice of them, and nobody did take notice of them; and in
+process of time it came to pass, not unnaturally, that Mrs. Copley
+began to get tired of living alone. For though it is extremely pleasant
+to be quiet, yet it remains true that man was made a social animal; and
+if he is in a healthy condition he craves contact with his fellows. As
+the winter wore away, some impression of this sort seemed to force
+itself upon Mrs. Copley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wonder what your father is dreaming of!" she said one day, when she
+had sat for some time looking at Dolly, who was drawing. "He seems to
+think it quite natural that you should live down here at this cottage,
+year in and year out, like a toad in a hole; with no more life or
+society. We might as well be shut up in a nunnery, only then there
+would be more of us. I never heard of a nunnery with only two nuns."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are you getting tired of it, mother?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Tired!&mdash;that isn't the word. I think I am growing stupid, and
+gradually losing my wits."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We have not been a bit stupid this winter, mother, dear."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We haven't seen anybody."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The family are soon coming to Brierley House, Mrs. Jersey says. I
+daresay you will see somebody then."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't believe we shall. The English don't like strangers, I tell
+you, Dolly, unless they come recommended by something or other;&mdash;and
+there is nothing to recommend us."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Copley uttered this last sentence with such a dismal sort of
+realisation, that Dolly laughed out.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are too modest, mother. I do not believe things are as bad as
+that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You will see," said her mother. "And I hope you will stop going to see
+the housekeeper then."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not know why I should," said Dolly quietly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+However, this question began to occupy her; not the question of her
+visiting Mrs. Jersey or of any one else visiting them; but this
+prolonged living alone to which her mother and she seemed to be
+condemned. It was not good, and it was not right; and Dolly saw that it
+was beginning to work unfavourably upon Mrs. Copley's health and
+spirits. But London? and a lodging-house? That would be worse yet; and
+for a house to themselves in London Dolly did not believe the means
+were at hand.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lately, things had been less promising. Mr. Copley seemed to be not so
+ready with his money; and he did not look well. Yes, he was well, he
+said when she asked him; nevertheless, her anxious eye read the old
+signs. She had not noticed them during the winter, or but slightly and
+rarely. Whether Mr. Copley had been making a vigorous effort to be as
+good as his word and spare Dolly pain; whether his sense of character
+had asserted itself, whether he had been so successful in speculation
+or play that he did not need opiates and could do without irritants; I
+do not know. There had been an interval. Now, Dolly began to be
+conscious again of the loss of freshness, the undue flush, the weak
+eyes, the unsteady mouth, the uneven gait. A stranger as yet might have
+passed it all by without notice; Dolly knew the change from her
+father's former quick, confident movements, iron nerves and muscular
+activity. And what was almost worse than all to her, among indications
+of his being entered on a downward course, she noticed that now he
+avoided her eye; looked at her, but preferred not meeting her look. I
+cannot tell how dreadful this was to Dolly. She had been always
+accustomed, until lately, to respect her father and to see him
+respected; to look at him as holding his place among men with much more
+than the average of influence and power; he was apt to do what he
+wished to do, and also to make other men do it. He was recognised as a
+leader in all parties and plans in which he took any share; Mr.
+Copley's word was quoted and Mr. Copley's lead was followed; and as is
+the case with all such men, his confidence in himself had been one of
+his sources of power and means of success. Dolly had been all her life
+accustomed to this as the natural and normal condition of things. Now
+she saw that her father had ceased to respect himself. The agony this
+revelation brought to Mr. Copley's loyal little daughter, it is
+impossible to tell. She felt it almost unbearable, shrank from it,
+would have closed her eyes to it; but Dolly was one of those whose
+vision is not clouded but rather made more keen by affection; and she
+failed to see nothing that was before her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The ministry Dolly applied to this new old trouble was of the most
+exquisite kind. Without making it obtrusive, she bestowed upon her
+father a sort of service the like of which not all the interest of
+courts can obtain for their kings. She was tender of him, with a
+tenderness that came like the touch of a soft summer wind; coming and
+going, and coming again. It calls for no answer or return; only it is
+there with its blessing, comforting tired nerves and soothing ruffled
+spirits. Mr. Copley hardly knew what Dolly was doing; hardly knew that
+it was Dolly; when now it was a gentle touch on his arm, leading him to
+the tea-table, and now a specially prepared cup, and Dolly bringing it,
+and standing before him smiling and tasting it, looking at him over it.
+And Mr. Copley certainly thought at such times that a prettier vision
+was not to be seen in the whole United Kingdom. Another time she would
+perch herself upon his knee and stroke back his hair from his temples,
+with fingers so delicate it was like the touch of a fairy; and then
+sometimes she would lay her head caressingly down on his shoulder; and
+though at such times Dolly could willingly have broken her heart in
+weeping, she let Mr. Copley see nothing but smiles, and suffered scarce
+so much as a stray sigh to come to his ear.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Have you seen anything of the great people?" he asked one evening,
+when Dolly had moved his sudden admiration.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you mean the people at the House?" his wife said. "No, of course.
+Don't you know, Mr. Copley, you must be great yourself to have the
+great look at you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Humph! There are different ways of being great. I shouldn't wonder,
+now, if you could show Lady Brierley as much as Lady Brierley could
+show you&mdash;in some ways."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What extravagant notions you do have, Frank," said his wife. "You are
+so much of an American, you forget everybody around you is English."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Lady Brierley has been only a little while come home," said Dolly. "We
+need not discuss her yet."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And so speaking, Dolly brought out the Bible. The reading with her
+mother had become a regular thing now, greatly helpful to Mrs. Copley's
+good rest, Dolly believed, both by day and night; and latterly when he
+had been at the cottage her father had not run away when she brought
+her book. Alone with her mother, Dolly had long since added prayer to
+the reading; not yet in her father's presence. Her heart beat a little,
+it cost an effort; all the same Dolly knew it must now be done. With a
+grave little face she brought out her Bible, laid it on the table, and
+opened it at the fifth chapter of Matthew.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Here comes our domestic chaplain!" said her father. Dolly looked up at
+him and smiled.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then of course you would not interfere with anything the chaplain
+does?" she said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Only not preach," said her father in the same tone. "I don't approve
+of any but licensed preaching. And that one need not hear unless one
+has a mind to."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I let the Bible do the preaching, generally," said Dolly. "But we do
+pray, father."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who?" said Mr. Copley quickly. "Your mother and you? Everybody prays,
+I hope, now and then."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We do it now, and then too, father. Or rather, <I>I</I> do it now, after
+reading."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Copley made no reply; and Dolly went on, feeling that the way was
+open to her, if it were also a little difficult to tread. She read part
+of the chapter, feeling every word through and through. Alas, alas,
+alas! The "poor in spirit," the "pure in heart," the "meek,"&mdash;where
+were these? and what had their blessing to do with the ears to which
+she was reading? The "persecuted for righteousness' sake,"&mdash;how she
+knew her father and mother would lay that off upon the martyrs of olden
+time, with whom and their way of life, they thought, the present time
+has nothing to do! and so, with the persecuted dismiss the meek and the
+pure. The blessings referred certainly to a peculiar set of persons; no
+one is called on in these days to endure persecution. Dolly knew how
+they would escape applying what they heard to themselves; and she knew,
+with her heart full, what they were missing thereby. She went on,
+feeling every word so thrillingly that it was no wonder they came from
+her lips with a very peculiar and moving utterance; that is the way
+with words that are spoken from the heart; and although indeed the
+lovely sentences might have passed by her hearers, as trite or
+unintelligible or obsolete, the inflexions of Dolly's voice caught the
+hearts of both parents and stirred them involuntarily with an answering
+thrill. She did not know it; she did know that they were very still and
+listening; and after the reading was done, though she trembled a
+little, her own feelings were so roused that it was not very difficult
+for Dolly to kneel down by the table and pray.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+But she had only scanty opportunities of working upon her father in
+this or in any way; Mr. Copley's visits to Brierley, always short,
+began now to be more and more infrequent.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As weeks went on and the spring slipped by, another thing was
+unmistakable about these visits; Mr. Copley brought less money with
+him. Through the autumn and winter, the needs of the little household
+had been indifferently well supplied. Dolly had paid her servants and
+had money for her butcher and grocer. Now this was no longer always the
+case. Mr. Copley came sometimes with empty pockets and a very thin
+pocket-book; he had forgotten, he said; or, he would make it all right
+next time. Which Dolly found out he never did. Her servants' wages
+began to get in arrear, and Dolly herself consequently into anxious
+perplexity. She had, she knew, a little private stock of her own,
+gained by her likenesses and other drawings; but like a wise little
+woman as she was, Dolly resolved she would not touch it unless she came
+to extremity. But what should she do? Just one thing she was clear
+upon; she would <I>not</I> run in debt; she would not have what she could
+not pay for. She paid off one servant and dismissed her. This could not
+happen without the knowledge of Mrs. Copley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But however are you going to manage?  the latter asked in much concern.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Honestly, mother. Oh, and nicely too. You will see. I must be a poor
+thing if I could not keep these little rooms in order."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And make beds? and set tables? and wash dishes?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I like to set tables. And what is it to wash two cups and spoons? And
+if I make the beds, we shall have them comfortable."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Jane certainly had her own ideas about making beds, and they were
+different from mine," said Mrs. Copley. "But I hate to have you, Dolly.
+It will make your hands red and rough."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nothing does that for my hands, luckily, mother, dear. Don't you mind.
+We shall get on nicely."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But what's the matter? haven't you got money enough?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mother, I won't have servants that I cannot pay punctually."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't your father give you money to pay them?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He gave me money enough to pay part; so I pay part, and send the other
+part away," said Dolly gaily.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I <I>hope</I> he has not got into speculation again," said Mrs. Copley. "I
+can't think what he busies himself about in London."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+This subject Dolly changed as fast as she could. She feared something
+worse than speculation. Whether it were cards, or dice, or betting, or
+more business-like forms of the vice, however, the legitimate
+consequences were not slow to come; the supply of money for the little
+household down at Brierley became like the driblets of a stream which
+has been led off from its proper bed by a side channel; only a few
+trickling drops instead of the full, natural current. Dolly could not
+get from her father the means to pay the wages of her remaining
+servant. This was towards the beginning of summer.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly pondered now very seriously what she should do. The lack of a
+housemaid she had made up quite comfortably with her own two busy
+hands; Mrs. Copley at least had been in particular comfort, whenever
+she did not get a fit of fretting on Dolly's account; and Dolly herself
+had been happy, though unquestionably the said hands had been very
+busy. Now what lay before her was another thing. She could not consult
+her mother, and there was nobody else to consult; she must even make up
+her mind as to the line of duty the best way she might; and however the
+difficulty and even the impossibility of doing without anybody stared
+her in the face, it was constantly met by the greater impossibility of
+taking what she could not pay for. Dolly made up her mind on the
+negative view of the case; what she <I>could</I> being not clear, only what
+she could not. She would dismiss her remaining servant, and do the
+cooking herself. It would be only for two. And perhaps, she thought,
+this step would go further to bring her father to his senses than any
+other step she could take.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly, however, went wisely to work. Quite alone in the house she and
+her mother could not be. She went to her friend Mrs. Jersey and talked
+the matter over with her; and through her got a little girl, a small
+farmer's daughter, to come and do the rough work. She let her mother
+know as little as possible about the matter; she took some of her own
+little stock and paid off the cook, representing to her mother no more
+than that she had exchanged the one helpmeet for the other. But poor
+Dolly found presently that she did not know how to cook. How should she?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What's become of all our good bread?" said Mrs. Copley, a day or two
+after the change. "And, Dolly, I don't know what you call this, but if
+it is meant for hash, it is a mistake."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly heard in awed silence; and when dinner and breakfast had seen
+repeated animadversions of the like kind, she made up her mind again
+and took her measures. She went to her friend Mrs. Jersey, and asked
+her to teach her to make bread.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To make bread!" the good housekeeper repeated in astonishment. "You,
+Miss Dolly? Can that be necessary?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mother cannot eat poor bread," said Dolly simply. "And there is nobody
+but me to make it. I think I can learn, Mrs. Jersey; cannot I?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The tears stood in the good woman's eyes. "But, my dear Miss Dolly,"
+she began anxiously, "this is a serious matter. You do not look very
+strong. Who does the rest of the cooking? Pardon me for being so bold
+to ask; but I am concerned about you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Therewith Dolly's own eyes became moist; however, it would never do to
+take that tone; so she shook off the feeling, and confessed she was the
+sole cook in her mother's establishment, and that for her mother's
+well-doing it was quite needful that what she eat should be good and
+palatable. And Dolly declared she would like to know how to do things,
+and be independent.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You've got the realest sort of independence," said the housekeeper.
+"Well, my dear, come, and I'll teach you all you want to know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There followed now a series of visits to the House, in which Mrs.
+Jersey thoroughly fulfilled her promise. In the kind housekeeper's room
+Dolly learned not only to make bread and biscuit, and everything else
+that can be concocted of flour, but she was taught how to cook a bit of
+beefsteak, how to broil a chicken, how to make omelettes and salads and
+a number of delicate French dishes; stews and soups and ragouts and no
+end of comfortable things. Dolly was in great earnest, therefore lost
+not a hint and never forgot a direction; she was quick and keen to
+learn; and Mrs. Jersey soon declared laughingly that she believed she
+was born to be a cook.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And it goes great qualities to that, Miss Dolly," she said. "You
+needn't take it as low praise. There are people, no doubt, that are
+nothing <I>but</I> cooks; that's the fault of something else, I always
+believe. Whoever can be a real cook can be something better if he has a
+chance and a will."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It seems to me, it is just common sense, Mrs. Jersey."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose you are not going to tell me that <I>that</I> grows on every
+bush? Yes, common sense has a great deal to do, no doubt; but one must
+have another sort of sense; one must know when a thing is right; and
+one must be able to tell the moment of time when it is right, and then
+one must be decided and quick to take it then and not let it have the
+other moment which would make it all wrong. Now, Miss Dolly, I see you
+know when to take off an omelette&mdash;and yet you couldn't tell me how you
+know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly's learning was indeed by practising with her own hands. One day
+it happened that Lady Brierley had come into the housekeeper's room to
+see about some arrangements she was making for Mrs. Jersey's comfort.
+While she was there, Dolly opened the door from an adjoining light
+closet, with her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and her arms dusted
+with flour. Seeing somebody whom she did not know, Dolly retreated,
+shutting the door after her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Whom have you got there, Mrs. Jersey?" said the lady, forgetting what
+she had come about. "That girl is too handsome to be among the maids."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She's not among the maids, my lady. She is not in the house. She only
+came to get some instruction from me, which I was very glad to give
+her?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course. That is quite in your way. But she does not belong in the
+village, I think?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, my lady, nor hereabouts at all, properly. She lives in Brierley
+Cottage; she and her mother; I believe the father is there now and by
+times, but they live alone mostly, and he is in London. They have been
+much better off; and last year they went travelling all through Europe.
+I thought I should never see them again; but here they are back, and
+have been for a year."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think I have heard of them. Are they poor?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am much afraid so, my lady."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Would it do any good, Jersey, if I went there?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It would be a great kindness, my lady. I think it might do good."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The final result of all which was a visit. It was now full summer; the
+season had come into its full bloom and luxuriance. Roses were opening
+their sweet buds all around Brierley Cottage; the honeysuckles made the
+porch into an arbour; the garden was something of a wilderness, but a
+wilderness of lovely, old-fashioned things. One warm afternoon, Dolly
+with a shears in her hand had gone out into the garden to cut off the
+full-blown roses, which to-morrow would shed their leaves; doing a
+little trimming by the way, both of rose-bushes and other things; the
+wildering of the garden had been so great. And very busy she was, and
+enjoying it; "cutting in" here, and "cutting out" there, flinging the
+refuse shoots and twigs carelessly from her into the walk to be
+gathered up afterwards. She was so busy she never heard the roll of
+carriage wheels, never heard them stop, nor the gate open; knew
+nothing, in fact, but the work she was busy with, till a slight sound
+on the gravel near by made her look round. Then she saw at one glance
+the lady standing there in laces and feathers, the carriage waiting
+outside the gate, and the servants in attendance around it. Dolly shook
+herself free of the roses and stepped forward, knowing very well who it
+must be. A little fresh colour had been brought into her cheeks by her
+exercise and the interest in her work; a little extra flush came now,
+with the surprise of this apparition. She was as lovely as one of her
+own rose-branches, and the wind had blown her hair about, which was
+always wayward, we know, giving perhaps to the great lady the
+impression of equal want of training. But she was very lovely, and the
+visitor could not take her eyes off her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are Miss&mdash;Copley?" she said. "I have heard Mrs. Jersey speak of
+you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mrs. Jersey is a very kind friend to me," said Dolly. "Will Lady
+Brierley walk in?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Jersey is her friend, thought the lady as she followed Dolly into
+the cottage. Probably she is just of that level, and my coming is
+thrown away. However, she went in. The little cottage sitting-room was
+again something of a puzzle to her; it was not rich, but neither did it
+look like anything Mrs. Jersey would have contrived for her own
+accommodation. Flowers filled the chimney and stood in vases or
+baskets; books lay on one table, on the other drawing materials; and
+simple as everything was, there was nevertheless in everything the
+evidence, negative as well as positive, that the tastes at home there
+were refined and delicate and cultivated. It is difficult to tell just
+how the impression comes upon a stranger, but it came upon Lady
+Brierley before she had taken her seat. Dolly too, the more she looked
+at her, puzzled her. She had set down her basket of roses and thrown
+off her garden hat, and now opened the blinds which shaded the room too
+much, and took a chair near her visitor. The girl's manner, the lady
+saw, was extremely composed; she did not seem at all fluttered at the
+honour done her, and offered her attentions with a manner of simple
+courtesy which was graceful enough but perfectly cool. So cool, that it
+rather excited Lady Brierley's curiosity, who was accustomed to be a
+person of great importance wherever she went. Her eye took in swiftly
+the neatness of the room, its plainness, and yet its expression of life
+and mental activity; the work and workbasket on the chair, the bunch of
+ferns and amaranthus in one vase, the roses in another, the violets on
+the table, the physiognomy of the books, which were not from the next
+circulating library, the drawing materials; and then came back to the
+figure seated before her, with the tossed, beautiful hair and the very
+delicate, spirited face; and it crossed Lady Brierley's mind, if she
+had a daughter like that!&mdash;with the advantages and bringing up she
+could have given her, what would she not have been! And the next
+thought was, she was glad that her son was in Russia. Dolly had opened
+the window and sat quietly down. She knew her mother would not wish to
+be called. Once, months ago, Dolly had a little hoped for this visit,
+and thought it might bring her a pleasant friend, or social
+acquaintance at least; now that so long time had passed since Lady
+Brierley's return, with no sign of kindness from the great house, she
+had given up any such expectation; and so cared nothing about the
+visit. Dolly's mind was stayed elsewhere; she did not need Lady
+Brierley; and it was in part the beautiful, disengaged grace of her
+manner which drew the lady's curiosity.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I did not know Brierley Cottage was such a pretty place," she began.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is quite comfortable," said Dolly. "Now in summer, when the flowers
+are out, I think it is very pretty."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are fond of flowers. I found you pruning your rose-bushes, were
+you not?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes," said Dolly. "The old man who used to attend to it has left me in
+the lurch since we went away. If I did not trim them, they would go
+untrimmed. They do go untrimmed, as it is."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is there no skill required?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh yes," said Dolly, her face wrinkling all up with fun; "but I have
+enough for that. I have learned so much. And pruning is very pretty
+work. This is not just the time for it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How can it be pretty? I do not understand."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, I suppose not," said Dolly. "But I think it is pretty to cut out
+the dead wood which is unsightly, and cut away the old wood which can
+be spared, leaving the best shoots for blossoming the next year. And
+then the trimming in of overgrown bushes, so as to have neat, compact,
+graceful shrubs, instead of wild, awkward-growing things&mdash;it is
+constant pleasure, for every touch tells; and the rose-bushes, I
+believe seem almost like intelligent creatures to me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But you would not deal with intelligent creatures so?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The Lord does," said Dolly quietly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do you mean?" said the lady sharply. "I do not understand your
+meaning."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I did not mean that all people were rose-bushes," said Dolly, with
+again an exquisite gleam of amusement in her face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But will you not be so good as to explain? What <I>can</I> you mean, by
+your former remark?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is not a very deep meaning," said Dolly with a little sigh. "You
+know, Lady Brierley, the Bible likens the Lord's people, Christians, to
+plants in the Lord's garden; and the Lord is the husbandman; and where
+He sees that a plant is growing too rank and wild, He prunes it&mdash;cuts
+it in&mdash;that it may be thriftier and healthier and do its work better."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's a dreadful idea! Where did you get it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Christ said so," Dolly answered, looking now in the face of her
+questioner. "Is it a dreadful idea? It does not seem so to me. He is
+the husbandman. And I would not like to be a useless branch."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have been on the Continent lately?" Lady Brierley quitted the
+former subject.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes; last year."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You went to my old lodging-house at Sorrento, I think I heard from
+Mrs. Jersey. Did you find it comfortable?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, delightful!" said Dolly with a breath which told much. "Nothing
+could be nicer, or lovelier."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you enjoyed life in Italy?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very much. But indeed I enjoyed it everywhere."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What gave you so much pleasure? I envy you. Now I go all over Europe,
+and find nothing particular to hold me anywhere. And I see by the way
+you speak that it was not so with you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said Dolly, half smiling. "Europe was like a great, real
+fairyland to me. I feel as if I had been travelling in fairyland."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do indulge me and tell me how that was? The novelty, perhaps."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Novelty is pleasant enough," said Dolly, "but I do not think it was
+the novelty. Rome was more fascinating the last week than it was the
+first."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah, Rome! there one never gets to the end of the novelties."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It was not that," said Dolly shaking her head. "I grew absolutely fond
+of the gladiator; and Raphael's Michael conquering the dragon was much
+more beautiful to me the last time I saw it than ever it was before;
+and so of a thousand other things. They seemed to grow into my heart.
+So at Venice. The palace of the doges&mdash;I did not appreciate it at
+first. It was only by degrees that I learned to appreciate it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your taste for art has been uncommonly cultivated!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No" said Dolly. "I do not know anything about art. Till this journey I
+had never seen much."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is a little to see at Brierley," said the lady of the house. "I
+should like to show it to you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I should like dearly to see it again," said Dolly. "Your ladyship is
+very kind. Mrs. Jersey did show me the house once, when we first came
+here; and I was delighted with some of the pictures, and the old
+carvings. It was all so unlike anything at home."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"At home?" said Lady Brierley enquiringly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I mean, in America."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Novelty again," said the lady, smiling, for she could not help liking
+Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said Dolly, "not that. It was far more than that. It was the real
+beauty,&mdash;and then, it was the tokens of a family which had had power
+enough to write its history all along. There was the power, and the
+history; and such a strange breath of other days. There is nothing like
+that in America.''
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then we shall keep you in England?" said Lady Brierley still with a
+pleased smile.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not know," said Dolly; but her face clouded over and lost the
+brightness which had been in it a moment before.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I see you would rather return," said her visitor. "Perhaps you have
+not been long enough here to feel at home with us?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have been here for several years," said Dolly. "Ever since I was
+fifteen years old."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is long enough to make friends."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have not made friends," said Dolly. "My mother's health has kept her
+at home&mdash;and I have stayed with her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But, my dear, you are just at an age when it is natural to want
+friends and to enjoy them. In later life one learns to be sufficient to
+one's self; but not at eighteen. I am afraid Brierley must be sadly
+lonely to you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh no," said Dolly, with her sweet gleam of a smile, which went all
+over her face; "I am not lonesome."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Will you come and see me sometimes?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If I can. Thank you, Lady Brierley."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You seem to me to be a good deal of a philosopher," said the lady, who
+evidently still found Dolly a puzzle. "Or is it rather an artist, that
+I should say?"&mdash;glancing at the drawing-table&mdash;"I know artists are very
+sufficient to themselves."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am neither one nor the other," said Dolly, laughing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are not apathetic&mdash;I can see that. What is your secret, Miss
+Copley?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I beg your pardon&mdash;what secret does your ladyship mean?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your secret of content and self-reliance. Pardon me&mdash;but you excite my
+envy and curiosity at once."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly's look went back to the fire. "I have no secret," she said
+gravely. "I am not a philosopher. I am afraid I am not always
+contented. And yet I <I>am</I> content," she added, "with whatever the Lord
+gives me. I know it is good."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Brierley saw tears in the eyes, which were so singularly wise and
+innocent at once. She was more and more interested, but would not
+follow Dolly's last lead. "What do you draw?" she asked, again turning
+her head towards the drawing materials.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Whatever comes in my way," said Dolly. "Likenesses, sometimes; little
+bits of anything I like."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lady Brierley begged to be shown a specimen of the likenesses; and
+forthwith persuaded Dolly to come and make a picture of herself. With
+which agreement the visit ended.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+If she had come some months ago, thought Dolly as she looked after the
+retreating figure of her visitor, I should have liked it. She might
+have been a friend, and a great help. Now, I don't think you can, my
+lady!
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap31"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+HANDS FULL.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Dolly was, however, partly mistaken. Lady Brierley was a help. First,
+for the likenesses. Dolly painted so charming a little picture of her
+ladyship that it was a perpetual letter of recommendation; Lady
+Brierley's friends desired to have Dolly's pencil do the same service
+for them; neighbouring families saw and admired her work and came to
+beg to have her skill exerted on their behalf; and, in short, orders
+flowed in upon Dolly to the full occupation of all the time she had to
+give to them. They paid well, too. For that, Dolly had referred to Lady
+Brierley to say what the price ought to be; and Lady Brierley, guessing
+need on the one hand and knowing abundance on the other, had set the
+price at a very pretty figure; and money quite piled itself up in
+Dolly's secret hoard. She was very glad of it; for her supplies from
+her father became more and more precarious. He seemed to shut his eyes
+when he came to Brierley, and not recognise the fact that anything was
+wanting or missing. And well Dolly knew that such wilful oversight
+could never happen if Mr. Copley were himself doing true and faithful
+work; she knew he was going in false and dangerous ways, without being
+able to follow him and see just what they were. Her one comfort was,
+that her mother did not seem to read the signs that were so terribly
+legible to herself.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And here too Lady Brierley's new-found friendship was of use. She
+wrought a diversion for the girl's troubled spirits. She was constantly
+having Dolly at the House. Dolly objected to leaving her mother; at the
+same time Mrs. Copley very much objected to have Dolly stay at home
+when such chances offered; so, at first to paint, and then to give her
+sweet company, Dolly went often, and spent hours at a time with Lady
+Brierley, who on her part grew more and more fond of having the little
+American girl in her society. Dolly was a novelty, and a mystery, and a
+beauty. Lady Brierley's son was in Russia; so there was no harm in her
+being a beauty, but the contrary; it was pleasant to the eyes. And
+Dolly was <I>naïve</I>, and fresh, and independent too, with a manner as
+fearless and much more frank than Lady Brierley's own, and yet with as
+simple a reserve of womanly dignity as any lady could have; and how a
+girl that painted likenesses for money, and made her own bread, and
+learned cookery of Mrs. Jersey, could talk to Lord Brierley with such
+sweet, quiet freedom, was a puzzle most puzzling to the great lady. So
+it was to others, for at Brierley House Dolly often saw a great deal of
+company. It did her good; it refreshed her; it gave her a world of
+things to tell for the amusement of her mother; and besides all that,
+she felt that Lady Brierley was really a friend, and would be kind if
+occasion were; indeed, she was kind now.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly needed it all, for darker days were coming, and the shadow of
+them was "cast before," as the manner is. With every visit of Mr.
+Copley to the cottage, Dolly grew more uneasy. He was not looking well,
+nor happy, nor easy; his manner was constrained, his spirits were
+forced; and for all that appeared, he might suppose that Dolly and her
+mother could live on air. He gave them nothing else to live on. What
+did he live on himself, Dolly queried, besides wine? and she made up
+her mind that, hard as it was, and doubtful as the effect, she must
+have a talk with him the next time he came down. "O father, father!"
+she cried to herself in the bitterness of her heart, "how can you! how
+can you! how can you! It never, never ought to be, that a child is
+ashamed for her father! The world is turned upside down."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+How intensely bitter it was, the children who have always been proud of
+their parents can never know. Dolly wrung her hands sometimes, in a
+distress that was beyond tears; and then devoted herself with redoubled
+ardour to her mother, to prevent her from finding out how things were
+going. She would have a plain talk with her father the next time he
+came, very difficult as she felt it would be; things could not go on as
+they were; or at least, not without ending in a thorough breakdown. But
+what we purpose is one thing; what we are able to execute is often
+quite another thing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was a week or two before Mr. Copley made his appearance. Dolly was
+looking from the window, and saw the village fly drive up and her
+father get out of it. She announced the fact to her mother, and then
+ran down to the garden gate to meet him. As their hands encountered at
+the gate, Dolly almost fell back; took her hand from the latch, and
+only put it forth again when she saw that her father could not readily
+get the gate open. He was looking ill; his gait was tottering, his eye
+wavering, and when he spoke his utterance was confused. Dolly felt as
+if a lump of ice had suddenly come where her heart used to be.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are not well, father?" she said as they went up the walk together.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well enough," returned Mr. Copley&mdash;"all right directly. Cursed wet
+weather&mdash;got soaked to the bone&mdash;haven't got warm yet."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Wet weather!" said Dolly; "why, it is very sunny and warm. What are
+you thinking of, father?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sun don't <I>always</I> shine in England," said Mr. Copley. "Let me get in
+and have a cup of tea or coffee. You don't keep such a thing as brandy
+in the house, do you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have had brandy enough already," said Dolly in a low, grave voice.
+"I will make some coffee. Come in&mdash;why, you are trembling, father! Are
+you <I>cold?</I>"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Haven't been warm for three days. Cold? yes. Coffee, Dolly, let me
+have some coffee. It's the vilest climate a man ever lived in."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, father," said Dolly, laying her hand on his sleeve, "your coat is
+wet! What have you done to yourself?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Wet? no,&mdash;it isn't. I put on a dry coat to come down&mdash;wouldn't be
+such a fool as to put on a wet one. Coffee, Dolly! It's cold enough for
+a fire."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But how <I>did</I> your coat get wet, father?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'Tisn't wet. I left a wet coat in London&mdash;had enough of it. If you go
+out in England you must get wet. Give me some coffee, if you haven't
+got any brandy. I tell you, I've never been warm since."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly ran up stairs, where Mrs. Copley was making a little alteration
+in her dress.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mother," she cried, "will you go down and take care of father? He is
+not well; I am afraid he has taken cold; I am going to make him some
+coffee as fast as I can. Get him to change his coat;&mdash;it is wet."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then Dolly ran down again, every nerve in her trembling, but forcing
+herself to go steadily and methodically to work. She made a cup of
+strong coffee, cooked a nice bit of beefsteak she had in the house,
+rejoicing that she had it; and while the steak was doing she made a
+plate of toast, such as she knew both father and mother were fond of.
+In half an hour she had it all ready and carried it up on a tray. Mrs.
+Copley was sitting with an anxious and perplexed face watching her
+husband; he had crept to the empty fireplace and was leaning towards it
+as towards a place whence comfort ought to be looked for. His wife had
+persuaded him to exchange the wet coat for an old dressing-gown, which
+change, however, seemed to have wrought no bettering of affairs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What is the matter?" said poor Mrs. Copley with a scared face. "I
+can't make out anything from what he says."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He has caught cold, I think," said Dolly very quietly; though her face
+was white, and all the time of her ministrations in the kitchen she had
+worked with that feeling of ice at her heart. "Father, here is your
+coffee, and it is good; maybe this will make you feel better."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She had set her dishes nicely on the table; she had poured out the
+coffee and cut a piece of the steak; but Mr. Copley would look at no
+food. He drank a little coffee, and set the cup down.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sloppy stuff! Haven't you got any brandy?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have had brandy already this afternoon, father. Take the coffee
+now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Brandy? my teeth were chattering, and I took a wretched glass
+somewhere. Do give me some more, Dolly! and stop this shaking."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where did you get cold, Mr. Copley?" asked his wife. "You have caught
+a terrible cold."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nothing of the kind. I am all right. Just been in the rain; rain'll
+wet any man; my coat's got it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But <I>when</I>, Frank?" urged his wife. "There has been no rain to-day; it
+is clear, hot summer weather. When were you in the rain?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know. Rain's rain. It don't signify when. Have you got nothing
+better than this? I shall not stop shaking till morning."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And he did not. They got him to bed, and sat and watched by him, the
+mother and daughter; watching the feverish trembling, and the feverish
+flush that gradually rose in his cheeks. They could get no more
+information as to the cause of the mischief. The truth was, that two or
+three nights previous, Mr. Copley had sat long at play and drunk
+freely; lost freely too; so that when at last he went home, his
+condition of mind and body was so encumbered and confused that he took
+no account of the fact that it was raining heavily. He was heated, and
+the outer air was refreshing; Mr. Copley walked home to his lodgings;
+was of course drenched through; and on getting home had no longer
+clearness of perception enough in exercise to know that he must take
+off his wet clothes. How he passed the night he never knew; but the
+morning found him very miserable, and he had been miserable ever since.
+Pains and aches, flushes of heat, creepings of inexplicable cold, would
+not be chased away by any potations his landlady recommended or by the
+stronger draughts to which Mr. Copley's habits bade him recur; and the
+third day, with something of the same sort of dumb instinct which makes
+a wounded or sick animal draw back to cover, he threw himself into the
+post coach and went down to Brierley. Naturally, he took advantage of
+stopping places by the way to get something to warm him; and so reached
+home at last in an altogether muddled and disordered state of mind and
+body.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Neither Mrs. Copley nor Dolly would go to bed that night. Not that
+there was much to do, but there was much to fear; and they clung in
+their fear to each other's company. Mrs. Copley dozed in an easy-chair
+part of the time; and Dolly sat at the open window with her head on the
+sill and lost herself there in slumber that was hardly refreshing. The
+night saw no change; and the morning was welcome, as the morning is in
+times of sickness, because it brought stir and the necessity of work to
+be done.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was still early when Dolly, after refreshing herself with water and
+changing her dress, went downstairs. She opened the hall door, and
+stood still a moment. The summer morning met her outside, fresh with
+dew, heavy with the scent of roses, musical with the song of birds;
+dim, sweet, full of life, breathing loveliness, folding its loveliness
+in mystery. As yet, things could be seen but confusedly; the dark bank
+of Brierley Park with its giant trees rose up against the sky, there
+was no gleam on the little river, the outlines of nearer trees and
+bushes were merged and indistinct; but what a hum and stir and warble
+and chitter of happy creatures! how many creatures to be happy! and
+what a warm breath of incense told of the blessings of the summer day
+in store for them! For them, and not for Dolly? It smote her hard, the
+question and the answer. It was for her too; it ought to be for her;
+the Lord's will was that all His creatures should be happy; and some of
+his creatures would not! Some refused the rich invitation, and would
+neither take themselves nor let others take the bountiful, tender,
+blessed gifts of God. It came to Dolly with an unspeakable sore pain.
+Yes, the Lord's will was peace and joy and plenty for them all; fulness
+of gracious supply; the singing of delighted hearts, loving and
+praising Him. And men made their own choice to have something else, and
+brought bitterness into what was meant to be only sweet. Tears came
+slowly into her eyes, mournful tears, and rolled down her cheeks
+hopelessly. Whatever was to become now of her little family? Her
+father, she feared, was entering upon a serious illness, which might
+last no one knew how long. Who would nurse him? and if Dolly did, who
+would do the work of the household? and if her father was laid by for
+any considerable time, whence were needful supplies to come from?
+Dolly's little stock would not last for ever. And how would her mother
+stand the strain and the care and the fatigue? It seemed to Dolly as
+she stood there at the door, that her sky was closing in and the ground
+giving way beneath her feet. Usually she kept up her courage bravely;
+just now it failed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dolly," her mother's voice came smothered from over the balusters of
+the upper hall.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, mother?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Send Nelly for the doctor as soon as you can."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, mother. As soon as it is light enough."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The doctor! that was another thought. Then there would be the doctor's
+bill. But at this point Dolly caught herself up. "<I>Take no thought for
+the morrow</I>"&mdash;what did that mean? "<I>Be careful for nothing;</I> but in
+everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your
+requests be made known unto God." And, "Who shall separate us from the
+love of Christ?" The words loosed the bands which seemed to have bound
+Dolly's heart in iron; she broke down, fell down on her knees in the
+porch, resting her head on the seat, and burst into a thunder-shower of
+weeping, which greatly cleared the air and relieved the oppression
+under which she had been labouring. This was nearly as uncommon a thing
+for Dolly as her former hopeless mood; she rose up feeling shaken, and
+yet strengthened. Ready for duty.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She went into the little sitting-room, set open the casement, and put
+the furniture in order, dusting and arranging. Leaving that all right,
+Dolly went down to the kitchen and made the fire. She was thinking what
+she should do for breakfast, when her little handmaid made her
+appearance. Dolly gave her some bread and butter and cold coffee, and
+sent her off to the village with a note to the doctor which she had
+meanwhile prepared. Left to herself then, she put on her kettle, and
+looked at the untouched pieces of beefsteak she had cooked last night.
+She knew what to do with them, thanks to Mrs. Jersey. The next thing
+was to go out into the dewy garden and get a handful of different herbs
+and vegetables growing there; and what she did with them I will not
+say; but in a little while Dolly had a most savoury mess prepared. Then
+she crept upstairs to her mother. Here everything was just as it had
+been all night. Dolly whispered to her mother to come down and have
+some breakfast. Mrs. Copley shook her head.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You must, mother, dear. I have got something nice&mdash;and father is
+sleeping; he don't want you. Come! I have got it in the kitchen, for
+Nelly is away, and it's less trouble, and keeps the coffee hot. Come!
+father won't want anything for a little while, and you and I do, and
+must have it, or we cannot stand what is on our hands. Come, mother.
+Wash your face, and it will refresh you, and come right down."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The little kitchen was very neat; the window was open and the summer
+morning looking in; nobody was there but themselves; and so there might
+be many a worse place to take breakfast in. And the meal prepared was
+dainty, though simple. Mrs. Copley could not eat much, nor Dolly; and
+yet the form of coming to breakfast and the nicety of the preparation
+were a comfort; they always are; they seem to say that all things are
+not confusion, and give a kind of guaranty for the continuance of old
+ways. Still, Mrs. Copley did not eat much, and soon went back to her
+watch; and Dolly cleared the table and considered what she could have
+for dinner. For dinner must be as usual; on that she was determined.
+But the doctor's coming was the next thing on the programme.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The doctor came and made his visit, and Dolly met him in the hall as he
+was going away. He was a comfortable-looking man, with the long English
+whiskers; ruddy and fleshy; one who, Dolly was sure, had no objection,
+for his own part, to a good glass of wine, or even a good measure of
+beer, if the wine were not forthcoming.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your father, is it?" said the doctor. "Well, take care of him&mdash;take
+care of him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How shall we take care of him, sir?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I've left medicines upstairs. He won't want much to eat; nor
+much of anything, for a day or two."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What is it? Cold?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, my young lady. Fever."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He got himself wet in the rain, a few days ago. He was shivering last
+night."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very likely. That's fever. Must take its course. He's not shivering
+now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Will he be long ill, sir, probably?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Impossible to say. These things are not to be counted upon. May get up
+in a day or two, but far more likely not in a week or two. Good
+morning!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A week or two! Dolly stood and looked after the departing chaise which
+carried the functionary who gave judgment so easily on matters of life
+and death. The question came back. What would become of her mother and
+her, if watching and nursing had to be kept up for weeks?&mdash;with all the
+rest there was to do. Dolly felt very blue for a little while; then she
+shook it off again and took hold of her work. Nelly had returned by
+this time, with a knuckle of veal from the butcher's. Dolly put it on,
+to make the nicest possible delicate stew for her mother; and even for
+her father she thought the broth might, do. She gathered herbs and
+vegetables in the garden again, and a messenger came from Mrs. Jersey
+with a basket of strawberries; Dolly wrote a note to go back with the
+basket, and altogether had a busy morning of it. For bread had also to
+be made; and her small helpmate was good for only the simplest details
+of scrubbing and sweeping and washing dishes. It was with the greatest
+difficulty after all that Dolly coaxed her mother to come down to
+dinner; Nelly being left to keep watch the while and call them if
+anything was wanted.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I can't eat, Dolly!" Mrs. Copley said, when she was seated at Dolly's
+board.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mother, it is necessary. See&mdash;this is what you like, and it is very
+good, I know. And these potatoes are excellent."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But, Dolly, he may be sick for weeks, for aught we can tell; it is a
+low fever. Oh, this is the worst of all we have had yet!" cried Mrs.
+Copley, wringing her hands.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It did look so, and for a moment Dolly could not speak. Her heart
+seemed to stand still.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mother, we don't know," she said. "We do not know anything. It may be
+no such matter; it may <I>not</I> last so; the doctor cannot tell; and
+anyhow, mother, God does know and He will take care. We can trust Him,
+can't we? and meanwhile what you and I have to do is to keep up our
+strength and our faith and our spirits. Eat your dinner like a good
+woman. I am going to make a cup of tea for you. Perhaps father would
+take some."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And you," said Mrs. Copley, eyeing her. Dolly had a white kitchen
+apron on, it is true, but she was otherwise in perfect order and looked
+very lovely. "What about me?" she said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Doing kitchen work! You, who are fit for&mdash;something so different!"
+Mrs. Copley had to get rid of some tears here.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Doing kitchen work? Yes, certainly, if that is the thing given me to
+do. Why not? Isn't my veal good? I'll do anything, mother, that comes
+to hand, provided I <I>can</I> do it. Mother, we don't trust half enough.
+Remember who it is gives me the cooking to do. Shall I not do what He
+gives me? And I can tell you one little secret&mdash;I <I>like</I> to do cooking.
+Isn't it good?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Copley made a very respectable dinner after all.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+This was the manner of the beginning of Mr. Copley's illness. Faith and
+courage were well tried as the days went on; for though never violently
+ill, he never mended. Day and night the same tedious low fever held
+him, wearing down not his strength only but that of the two whose
+unaided hands had to manage all that was done. Dolly did not know where
+to look for a nurse, and Mrs. Copley was utterly unwilling to have one
+called in. She herself roused to the emergency and ceased to complain
+about her own troubles; she sat up night after night, with only partial
+help from Dolly, who had her hands full with the care of the house and
+the day duty and the sick cookery. And as day after day went by, and
+night after night was watched through, and days and nights began to run
+into weeks, the strength and nervous energy of them both began at times
+to fail. Neither showed it to the other, except as pale faces and weary
+eyes told their story. Mrs. Copley cried in secret, at night, with her
+head on the window-sill; and Dolly went with slow foot to gather her
+herbs and vegetables, and sat down sometimes in the porch, in the early
+dawn or the evening gloom, and allowed herself to own that things were
+looking very dark indeed. The question was, how long would it be
+possible to go on as they were doing? how long would strength hold
+out?&mdash;and money? The doctor's fees took great pinches out of Dolly's
+fund; and for the present there was no adding to it. Lady Brierley was
+away; she had gone to the seaside. Mrs. Jersey was very kind; fruit and
+eggs and vegetables came almost daily from the House to Dolly's help,
+and the kind housekeeper herself had offered to sit up with the sick
+man; but this offer was refused. Mr. Copley did not like to see any
+stranger about him. And Dolly and her mother were becoming now very
+tired. As the weeks went on, they ceased to look in each other's faces
+any more with questioning eyes; they knew too well how anxiety and
+effort had told upon both of them, and each was too conscious of what
+the other was thinking and fearing. They did not meet each other's eyes
+with those mute demands in them any more; but they stole stealthy
+glances sometimes each to see how the other face looked; what tokens of
+wear and tear it was showing; taking in at a rapid view the lines of
+weariness, the marks of anxiety, the faded colour, the languor of
+spirit which had gradually taken the place of the earlier energy. In
+word and action they showed none of all this. All the more, no doubt,
+when each was alone and the guard might be relaxed, a very grave and
+sorrowful expression took possession of their faces. Nothing else might
+be relaxed. Day and night the labour and the watch were unintermitting.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And so the summer wore on to an end. Dolly was patient, but growing
+very sad; perhaps taking a wider view of things than her mother, who
+for the present was swallowed up in the one care about her husband's
+condition. Dolly, managing the finances and managing the household, had
+both parents to think of; and was sometimes almost in despair.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She was sitting so one afternoon in the kitchen, in a little lull of
+work before it was time to get supper, looking out into the summer
+glow. It was warm in the small kitchen, but Dolly had not energy to go
+somewhere else for coolness. She sat gazing out, and almost querying
+whether all things were coming to an end at once; life and the means to
+live together, and the strength to get means. And yet she remembered
+that it is written&mdash;"Trust in the Lord, and do good; so shalt thou
+dwell in the land, and <I>verily thou shalt be fed</I>." But then,&mdash;it came
+cold into her heart,&mdash;it could not be said that her father and mother
+had ever fulfilled those conditions; could the promise be good for
+<I>her</I> faith alone? And truly, where was Dolly's faith just now? Withal,
+as she sat gazing out of the window, she saw that full wealth of
+summer, which was a pledge and proof of the riches of the hand from
+which it came.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There's a gentleman, mum," Dolly's little helpmate announced in her
+ear. Dolly started.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A gentleman? what gentleman? It isn't the doctor? He has been here."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's no him. I knows Dr. Hopley. It's no him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I cannot see company. Is it company, Nelly?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The gentleman didn't say, mum."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where is he?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He's a standin' there at the door."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly slowly rose up and doubtfully took off her great kitchen apron;
+doubtfully went upstairs. Perhaps she had better see who it was. Mrs.
+Jersey might have sent a messenger,&mdash;or Lady Brierley! She went on to
+the hall door, which was open, and where indeed she saw a tall figure
+against the summer glow which filled all out of doors. A tall figure, a
+tall, upright figure; at first Dolly could see only the silhouette of
+him against the warm outer light. She came doubtfully close up to the
+open door. Then she could see a little more besides the tallness; a
+peculiar uprightness of bearing, a manly, frank face, a head of close
+curling dark hair, and an expression of pleasant expectation; there was
+a half smile on the face, and a deferential look of waiting. He stood
+bareheaded before her, and had not the air of a stranger; but Dolly was
+quite bewildered. Somebody altogether strange, and yet somehow
+familiar. She said nothing; her eyes questioned why, being a stranger,
+he should stand there with such a look upon his face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am afraid I am not remembered," said the gentleman, with the smile
+coming out a little more. His look, too, was steady and straightforward
+and observant,&mdash;where had Dolly seen that mixture of quietness and
+resoluteness? Her eyes fell to the little cap in his hand, an officer's
+cap, and then light came into them.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh!" she cried,&mdash;"Mr. Shubrick!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is a long time since that Christmas Day at Rome," he said; a more
+wistful gravity coming into his face as he better scanned the face
+opposite to him, which the evening light revealed very fully.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, I know now," said Dolly. "I do not need to be reminded; but I
+could not expect to see you here. I thought you were in the
+Mediterranean. Will you come in, Mr. Shubrick? I am very glad to see
+you; but my thoughts were so far away"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You thought I was in the Mediterranean?" he said as he followed Dolly
+in. "May I ask, why?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your ship was there."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"<I>Was</I> there; but ships are not stationary things."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, of course not," said Dolly, throwing open the blinds and letting
+the summer light and fragrance stream in. "Then, when did you see
+Christina?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not for months. The Red Chief has been ordered to the Baltic and is
+there now; and I got a furlough to come to England. But&mdash;how do you do,
+Miss Copley?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am well, thank you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Forgive me for asking, if that information can be depended on?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, indeed I am well. I suppose I look tired. We have had sickness
+here for a good while&mdash;my father. Mother and I are tired, no doubt."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You look very tired. I am afraid I ought not to be here. Can you make
+me of use? What is the matter? Please remember that I am not a
+stranger."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am very glad to remember it," said Dolly. "No, I do not feel as if
+you were a stranger, Mr. Shubrick, after that day we spent together.
+You asked what was the matter&mdash;oh, I don't know! a sort of slow,
+nervous fever, not infectious at all, nor very alarming; only it must
+be watched, and he always wants some one with him, and of course after
+a while one gets tired. That cannot be helped. We have managed very
+well."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not Mrs. Copley and you alone?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How long?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is five weeks now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And no improvement yet?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not know. Mother thinks a little," said Dolly, faltering. This
+speaking to eyes and ears of sympathy, after so long an interval,
+rather upset her; her lips trembled, tears came, she was upon the point
+of breaking down; she struggled for self-command, but her lips trembled
+more and more.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have come in good time," said her visitor.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is pleasant to see somebody, to be able to speak to somebody, that
+is so good as to care," said Dolly, brushing her hand over her eyes
+swiftly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are worn out," said the other gently. "I am not going to be simply
+somebody to speak to. Miss Copley, I am a countryman, and a sort of a
+friend, you know. You will let me take the watch to-night."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You!" said Dolly, starting. "Oh no!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I beg your pardon. You ought to say 'Oh yes.' I have had experience. I
+think you may trust me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, I cannot. We have no right to let you do so."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have a right to make any use of me you can; for I place myself at
+your disposal."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are <I>very</I> kind, Mr. Shubrick!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't say anything more. That is settled," said he, taking up his cap,
+as if in preparation for departure. Dolly was a little bewildered by
+the quiet, decided manner, just like what she remembered of Mr.
+Shubrick; unobtrusive and undemonstrative, but if he moved, moving
+straight to his goal. She rose as he rose.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But," she stammered, "I don't think you can. Father likes nobody but
+mother and me about him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He will like me to-morrow," Mr. Shubrick answered with a smile. "Don't
+fear; I will manage that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are very kind!" said Dolly. "You are very kind!"&mdash;Already her
+heart was leaping towards this offered help, and Mr. Shubrick looked so
+resolute and strong and ready; she could hardly oppose him. "But you
+are <I>too</I> kind!" she said suddenly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said he gravely; "that is impossible. Remember, in the family we
+belong to, the rule is one which we can never reach. 'That ye love one
+another, even as I have loved you.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+What it was, I do not know, in these words which overcame Dolly. In the
+words and the manner together. She was very tired and overstrung, and
+they found some unguarded spot and reached the strained nerves. Dolly
+put both hands to her face and burst into tears, and for a moment was
+terribly afraid that she was going to be hysterical. But that was not
+Dolly's way at all, and she made resolute fight against her nerves.
+Meanwhile, she felt herself taken hold of and placed in a chair by the
+window; and the sense that somebody was watching her and waiting,
+helped the return of self-control. With a sort of childish sob, Dolly
+presently took down her hands and looked up through the glistening
+tears at the young man standing over her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There!" she said, forcing a smile on the lips that quivered,&mdash;"I am
+all right now. I do not know how I could be so foolish."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"<I>I</I> know," said Mr. Shubrick. "Then I will just return to the village
+for half and hour, and be back here as soon as possible."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But"&mdash;said Dolly doubtfully. "Why don't you send for what you want?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Difficult," said the other. "I am going to get some supper."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh!" said Dolly. "If <I>that</I> is what you want&mdash;sit down, Mr. Shubrick.
+Or send off your fly first, and then sit down. If you are going to stay
+here to-night, I'll give you your supper. Send away the fly, Mr.
+Shubrick, please!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not think I can. And you cannot possibly do such a thing as you
+propose. I shall be back here in a very little time."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly put her hand upon Mr. Shubrick's cap and softly took it from him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," she said. "It's a bargain. If I let you do one thing, you must
+let me do the other. It would trouble me to have you go. It is too
+pleasant to see a friend here, to lose sight of him in this fashion.
+There will be supper, of some sort, and you shall have the best we can.
+Will you send away your fly, please, and sit down and wait for it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+If Dolly could not withstand him, so on this point there was no
+resisting her. Mr. Shubrick yielded to her evident urgent wish; and
+Dolly went back to her preparations. The question suddenly struck her,
+<I>where</I> should she have supper? Down here in the kitchen? But to have
+it in order, upstairs, would involve a great deal more outlay of
+strength and trouble. The little maid could not set the table up there,
+and Dolly could not, with the stranger looking on. That would never do.
+She debated, and finally decided to put her pride in her pocket and
+bring her visitor down to the kitchen. It was not a bad place, and if
+he was going to be a third nurse in the house, it would be out of
+keeping to make any ceremony with him. Dolly's supper itself was
+faultless. She had some cold game, sent by Lady Brierley or by her
+order; she had fresh raspberries sent by Mrs. Jersey, and a salad of
+cresses. But Mrs. Copley would not be persuaded to make her appearance.
+She did not want to see strangers; she did not like to leave Mr.
+Copley; in short, she excused herself obstinately, to Dolly's distress.
+However, she made no objection to having Mr. Shubrick take her place
+for the night; and she promised Dolly that if she got a good night's
+sleep and was rested, she would appear at breakfast.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap32"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+THE NURSE.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Dolly made her mother's excuses, which seemed to her visitor perfectly
+natural, and ushered him down to the supper laid in the little kitchen;
+Dolly explaining very simply that her mother and she had lived there
+since there had been sickness in the house, and had done so for want of
+hands to make other arrangements possible. And Mr. Shubrick seemed also
+to find it the most natural thing in the world to live in the kitchen,
+and for all that appeared, had never taken his meals anywhere else in
+his life. He did justice to the supper too, which was a great
+gratification to Dolly; and lifted the kettle for her from the hob when
+she wanted it, and took his place generally as if he were one of the
+family. As for Dolly, there came over her a most exquisite sense of
+relief; a glimpse of shelter and protection, the like of which she had
+not known since she could hardly remember when. True, it was transient;
+it could not abide; Mr. Shubrick was sitting there opposite her like
+some one that had fallen from the clouds, and whom mist and shadow
+would presently swallow up again; but in the meanwhile, what a gleam of
+light his presence brought! He would go soon again, of course; he must;
+but to have him there in the meantime was a momentary comfort
+unspeakable. More than momentary; he would stay all night. And her
+mother would get a night's sleep. For her own part, this feeling of
+rest was already as good as sleep. Yes, for once, for a little, a
+strong hand had come between her and her burdens. Dolly let herself
+rest upon it, with an intense appreciation of its strength and
+sufficiency.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And so resting, she observed her new helper curiously. She noticed how
+entirely he was the same man she had seen that Christmas Day in Rome;
+the same here as there, with no difference at all. There was the calm
+of manner that had struck her then, along with the readiness for
+action; the combination was peculiar, and expressed in every turn of
+head and hand. Here, in a strange house, he was as absolutely at ease
+and unconstrained as if he had been on the quarterdeck of his own ship.
+Is it the habit of command? thought Dolly. But that does not
+necessarily give a man ease of manner in his intercourse with others
+who are not under his command. Meanwhile, Mr. Shubrick sat and talked,
+keeping up a gentle run of unexciting thoughts, and apparently as much
+at home in the kitchen of Brierley Cottage as if he had lived there
+always.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"When have you seen Christina?" Dolly asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not in some months."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are they at Sorrento yet?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No; they spent the winter in Rome, and this summer they are in
+Switzerland. I had a letter from Miss Thayer the other day. I mean, a
+few weeks ago."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It occurred to Dolly that one or the other of them must be a slack
+correspondent.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I almost wonder they could leave Sorrento," she remarked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They got tired of it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I never get tired of lovely things," said Dolly. "The longer I know
+them the better pleasure I take in them. I could have stayed in Venice,
+it seemed to me, for years; and Rome&mdash;I should never have got away from
+Rome of my own accord, if duty had not made me; and then at Naples, I
+enjoyed it better the last day than the first. And Sorrento"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What about Sorrento?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, it was&mdash;you know what Sorrento is. It was roses and myrtles and
+orange blossoms, and the fire of the pomegranate flowers and the grey
+of the olives; and the Italian sun, and the Italian air; and, Mr.
+Shubrick, you know what the Mediterranean is, with all its colours
+under the shadow of the cliffs and the sunlight on the open sea. And
+Vesuvius was always a delightful wonder to me. And the people were so
+nice. Sorrento is perfect." A soft breath of a sigh came from Dolly's
+heart.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You do not like England so well?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No. Oh no! But I could like England. Mr. Shubrick, my time at Sorrento
+was almost without care; and you know that makes a difference."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Would you like to live without care?" said he.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly looked at him, the question seemed so strange. "Without anxious
+care&mdash;I should," she answered.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That you may, anywhere."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How is it possible, sometimes?" Dolly asked wistfully.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"May I be Yankee enough to answer your question by another? Is it any
+relief to you to have me come in and take the watch for to-night?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The greatest," said Dolly. "I cannot express to you how great it is;
+for mother and I have had it all to do for so long. I cannot tell you,
+Mr. Shubrick, in what a strange lull of rest I have been sitting here
+since we came downstairs. I have just let my hands fall."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How can you be sure it is safe to do that?" he said, smiling.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh," said Dolly, "I know you will take care; and while you do, I need
+not."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Shubrick was silent. Dolly pondered.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do I know what you mean?" she said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think you do," he replied. "Do you remember it is written,
+&mdash;'Casting your care upon Him, <I>for He careth for you</I>'?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And that means, not to care myself?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not anxiously, or doubtfully. You cannot trust your care to another,
+and at the same time keep it yourself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I know all that," said Dolly slowly; "or I thought I knew it. How is
+it, then, that it is so difficult to get the good of it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Was it very difficult to trust me?" Mr. Shubrick asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said Dolly, "because&mdash;you know you are not a stranger, Mr.
+Shubrick. I feel as if I knew you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He lifted his eyes and looked at her; not regarding the compliment to
+himself, but with a steady, keen eye carrying Dolly's own words home to
+her. He did not say a word; but Dolly changed colour.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, do you mean <I>that?</I>" she cried, almost with tears. "Is it because
+I know Christ so poorly that I trust Him so slowly?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What else can it be? And you know, Miss Dolly, just that absolute
+trust is the thing the Lord wants of us. And you know it is the thing
+of all others that we like from one another. We need not be surprised
+that He likes it; for we were made in His image."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly sat silent, struck and moved both with sorrow and gladness; for
+if it were possible so to lay down care, what more could burden her?
+and that she had not done it, testified to more strangeness and
+distance on her part towards her best Friend than she liked to think
+of. Her musings were interrupted by Mr. Shubrick.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now may I be introduced to Mr. Copley?" he said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly was rather doubtful about the success of this introduction.
+However, she brought her mother out of the sick-room, and took Mr.
+Shubrick in; and there, in obedience to his desire, left him, without
+an introduction; for her father was asleep.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He will never let him stay there, Dolly," said Mrs. Copley. "He will
+not bear it at all." And Dolly waited and feared and hoped. But the
+night drew on, and came down upon the world; Mrs. Copley went to bed,
+at Dolly's earnest suggestion, and was soon fast asleep, fatigue
+carrying it over anxiety; and Dolly watched and listened in vain for
+sounds of unrest from her father's room. None came; the house was
+still; the summer night was deliciously mild; Dolly's eyelids trembled
+and closed, and opened, and finally closed again, not to open till the
+summer morning was bright and the birds making a loud concert of their
+morning song.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Shubrick, left alone with his patient, sat down and waited;
+reviewing meanwhile the room and his surroundings. It was a
+moderate-sized, neat, pretty room, with one window looking out upon the
+garden. The casement was two-leaved, and one leaf only was part open.
+The air consequently was close and hot. And if the room was neat, that
+applies only to its natural and normal condition; for if neatness
+includes tidiness, it could not be said at present to deserve that
+praise. There was an indescribable litter everywhere, such as is
+certain to accumulate in a sick-room if the watchers are not imbued
+with the spirit of order. Here were one or two spare pillows, on so
+many chairs; over the back of another chair hung Mr. Copley's
+dressing-gown; at a very unconnected distance from his slippers under a
+fourth chair. On still another chair lay a plate and knife with the
+remains of an orange; on the mantelpiece, the rest of the chairs, the
+tables, and even the floor, stood a miscellaneous assortment of cups,
+glasses, saucers, bottles, spoons, and pitchers, large and small,
+attached to as varied an assemblage of drinks and medicines. Only one
+medicine was to be given from time to time, Mr. Shubrick had been
+instructed; and that was marked, and he recognised it; what were all
+the rest of this assemblage doing here? Some books lay about also, and
+papers, and magazines; here a shawl, there some articles of female
+apparel; and a basket of feminine work. The litter was general, and
+somewhat disheartening to a lover of order; Mrs. Copley being one of
+those people who have nothing of the sort belonging to them, and indeed
+during the most of her life accustomed to have somebody else keep order
+for her; servants formerly, Dolly of late. Mr. Shubrick sat and looked
+at all these things, but made no movement, until by and by his patient
+awoke. It was long past sunset now, the room in partial twilight, yet
+illumination enough still reflected from a very bright sky for the two
+people there to see each what the other looked like. Mr. Copley used
+his eyes in this investigation for a few minutes in silence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who are you?" he inquired abruptly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A friend."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What friend? You are a friend I don't know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is true; but it will not be true to-morrow," Mr. Shubrick said
+quietly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What are you here for?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To act the part of a friend, if you will allow me. I am here to wait
+upon you, Mr. Copley."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Thank you, I prefer my own people about me," said the sick man curtly.
+"You may go, and send them, or some of them, to me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I cannot do that," said the stranger, "and you must put up with me for
+to-night. Mrs. Copley and your daughter are both very tired, and need
+rest."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Humph!" said the invalid with a surprised grunt. "Did <I>they</I> send you
+here?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No. They permitted me to come. I take it as a great privilege."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You take it before you have got it. I have not given my leave yet.
+What are you doing there?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Letting some fresh air in for you." Mr. Shubrick was setting wide open
+both leaves of the casement.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You mustn't do that. The night air is not good for me. Shut the
+window."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You cannot have any air at night <I>but</I> night air," replied Mr.
+Shubrick, uttering what a great authority has since spoken, and leaving
+the window wide open.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But night air is very bad. I don't want it; do you hear?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you will lie still a minute or two, you will begin to feel that it
+is very good. It is full of the breath of roses and mignonette, and a
+hundred other pleasant things."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But I tell you that's poison!" cried Mr. Copley, beginning to excite
+himself. "I choose to have the window shut; do you hear me, sir?
+Confound you, I want it shut!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The young man, without regarding this order, came to the bedside,
+lifted Mr. Copley's head and shook up his pillows and laid him
+comfortably down again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Lie still," he said, "and be quiet. You are under orders, and I am in
+command here to-night. I am going to take care of you, and you have no
+need to think about it. Is that right?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes," said the other, with another grunt half of astonishment and half
+of relief,&mdash;"that's right. But I want the window shut, I tell you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now you shall have your broth. It will be ready presently."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't want any broth!" said the sick man. "If you could get me a
+glass of wine;&mdash;<I>that</I> would set me up. I'm tired to death of these
+confounded slops. They are nothing for a man to grow strong upon. Never
+would make a man strong&mdash;never!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Shubrick made no answer. He was going quietly about the room.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What are you doing?" said the other presently, watching him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Making things ship-shape&mdash;clearing decks."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do you know about clearing decks?" said Mr. Copley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I will show you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And the sick man watched with languid amusement to see how, as his new
+nurse went from place to place, the look of the room changed. Shawls
+and clothing were folded up and bestowed on a chest of drawers;
+slippers were put ready for use at the bedside; books were laid
+together neatly on the table; and a small army of cups and glasses and
+empty vials were fairly marched out of the room. In a little while the
+apartment was in perfect order, and seemed half as large again. The
+invalid drew a long breath.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You're an odd one!" said he, when he caught Mr. Shubrick's eye again.
+"Where did you learn all that? and who are you? and how did you come
+here? I have a right to know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have a perfect right, and shall know all about me," was the
+answer; "but first, here is your broth, hot and good." (Mr. Shubrick
+had just received it from the little maid at the door). "Take this now,
+and to-morrow, if you behave well, you shall have something better."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Copley suffered himself to be persuaded, took the broth, and then
+repeated his question.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am Sandie Shubrick, lieutenant in the United States navy, on board
+ship 'The Red Chief;' just now on furlough, and in England."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What did you come to England for?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Business and pleasure."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Which do you call this you are about now?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Both," said Mr. Shubrick, smiling. "Now you may lie still, and keep
+the rest of your questions for another time."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Copley yielded, and lay looking at his new attendant, till he dozed
+off into unconsciousness. Waking then after a while, hot and restless,
+his nurse brought water and a sponge and began sponging his face and
+neck and hands; gently and soothingly; and kept up the exercise until
+restlessness abated, breaths of satisfied content came at easy
+intervals; and finally Mr. Copley slumbered off peacefully, and knew no
+more. When he awoke the sun was shining on the oaks of Brierley Park.
+The window was open, as it had been all night, and by the window sat
+Mr. Shubrick, looking out. The sick man eyed him for a while.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are you asleep there?" he said at last, growing impatient of the
+silence. Mr. Shubrick got up and came to him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Good morning!" said he. "How have you rested?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I believe it's the best night I've had yet. What were you doing to me
+in the night? using a sponge to me, weren't you? It put me to sleep. I
+believe it would cure a man of a fever, by Jupiter."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not by Jupiter," said Mr. Shubrick. "And you must not say such things
+while I am here."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why not?" Mr. Copley opened his eyes somewhat.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is no better than counterfeit swearing."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Would you rather have the true thing?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I never permit either, where I am in authority?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your authority can't reach far. You've got to take the world as you
+find it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I dispute that. You've got to take the world and make it better."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do you do where your authority is not sufficient?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I go away."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Look here," said Mr. Copley. "Do you call yourself in authority
+<I>here?</I>"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Those are the only terms on which I could stay," said Mr. Shubrick,
+smiling.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, see," said the other,&mdash;"I wish you would stay. You've done me
+more good than all the doctor and everybody else before you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I come after them all, remember."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wish you had come before them. Women don't know anything. There's my
+wife,&mdash;she would have let the room get to be like a Jew's old clothes
+shop, and never be aware of it. I didn't know what was choking me so,
+and now I know it was the confusion. You belong to the navy?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I told you so last evening," said Mr. Shubrick, who meanwhile was
+sponging Mr. Copley's face and hands again and putting him in order
+generally, so as a sick man's toilet might be made.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"By Jupiter!&mdash;I beg your pardon&mdash;I believe I am going to get over this,
+after all," said Mr. Copley "I am sure I shall, if you'll stay and help
+me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I will do it with pleasure. Now, what are you going to have for your
+breakfast?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But, look here. Why should you stay with me? I am nothing to you.
+Who's to pay you for it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not come for pay; or rather, I get it as I go along. Make
+yourself easy, and tell me about your breakfast."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How do you come here? I don't know you. Who does know you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have been a friend of your friends, Mr. and Mrs. Thayer, for many
+years."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Humph. Ah! Well. About breakfast, I don't know what they have got for
+me downstairs; some lolypop or other."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We'll do better for you than that," said Mr. Shubrick.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The morning meanwhile had come to the other inmates of the house. Dolly
+had left the sofa where she had spent the night, with a glad
+consciousness that the night was over and there had been no
+disturbance. Her mother had slept all the night through and was
+sleeping yet. What refreshment and comfort it was. What strength and
+rest, to think of that kind, calm, strong, resolute man in her father's
+room; somebody that could be depended upon. Dolly thought Christina
+ought to be a happy woman, with always such a hand to support her all
+her life long. "And he drinks no wine," thought Dolly; "that temptation
+will never overtake him; she will never have to be ashamed of him. He
+will hold her up, and not she him. She is happy."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The worst thing about Mr. Shubrick's coming was, that he must go away
+again! However, not yet; he would be seen at breakfast first; and to
+prepare breakfast was now Dolly's next care. Then she got her mother up
+and persuaded her to make herself nice and appear at the meal.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are never going to bring him down into the kitchen?" said Mrs.
+Copley, horrified, when she got there.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Certainly, mother; it is no use trying to make a fuss. I cannot give
+him breakfast anywhere else."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then I would let him go to the village, Dolly, and get his breakfast
+there."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But that would be very inhospitable. He was here at supper, mother; I
+don't think he was frightened. He knows just how we are situated."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He doesn't know you have nobody to help you, I hope?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How could he help knowing it? The thing is patent. Never mind, mother;
+the breakfast will be good, if the breakfast-room is only so so. If you
+do not mind, nobody else will."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That you should come to this!" said Mrs. Copley, sinking into a chair.
+"My Dolly! Doing a servant's work, and for strangers, and nobody to
+help or care! And what are we coming to? I don't see, for my part. You
+are ruined."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not yet," said Dolly cheerfully. "If I am, I do not feel like it. Now,
+mother, see if you can get Mr. Shubrick down here before my omelette is
+ruined; for that is the greatest danger just at present."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was not quite easy to get Mr. Shubrick down there, however; he
+demurred very seriously; and I am afraid the omelette was something the
+worse before he came. But then the breakfast was rather gay. The
+watcher reported a quiet night, and as he was much inclined to think,
+an amended patient.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Quiet!" echoed Mrs. Copley. "How could you keep him quiet?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose I imagined myself on board ship," said the young man,
+smiling, "and gave orders, as I am accustomed to do there. Habit is a
+great thing."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And Mr. Copley minded your orders?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is understood."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well!" ejaculated Mrs. Copley. "He never would do the least thing I or
+Dolly wanted him to do; not the least thing. <I>He</I> has been giving the
+orders all along; and as fidgetty as ever he could be. Fidgetty and
+nervous. Wasn't he fidgetty?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No; very docile and peaceable."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You must be a wonderful man," said Mrs. Copley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Habit," said Mr. Shubrick. "As I said, it is a great thing."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He has been having his own way all along," said Mrs. Copley; "and
+ordering us about, and doing just the things he ought not to do. He was
+always that way."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not the proper way for a sick room," said Mr. Shubrick. "You had
+better install me as head nurse."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+How Dolly wished they could do that! As she saw him there at the table,
+with his quiet air of efficiency and strength, Dolly thought what a
+treasure he was in a sick house; how strong she felt while she knew he
+was near. Perhaps Mrs. Copley's thoughts took the same turn; she sighed
+a little as she spoke.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have been very kind, Mr. Shubrick. We shall never forget it. You
+have been a great help. If Mr. Copley would only get better now"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am going to see him better before I go."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We could not ask any <I>more</I> help of you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You need not," and Mr. Shubrick smiled. "Mr. Copley has done me the
+honour to ask me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mr. Copley has asked you!" repeated Mrs. Copley in bewilderment.
+"What?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Asked me to stay."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To stay and nurse him?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes. And I said I would. You cannot turn me away after that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But you have your own business in England," Dolly here put in.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"This is it, I think."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your own pleasure, then. You did not come to England for this."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It seems I did," he said. "I am off duty, Miss Dolly, I told you; here
+on furlough, to do what I like; and there is nothing else at present
+that I should like half so well."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly scored another private mark here to the account of Mr. Shubrick's
+goodness; and in the ease which suddenly came to her own mind, felt as
+if her head were growing light and giddy. But it was no illusion or
+dream. Mr. Shubrick was really there, finishing his breakfast, and
+really going to stay and take care of her father; and Dolly felt as if
+the tide of their affairs had turned.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+So indeed it proved. From that time Mr. Shubrick assumed the charge of
+the sick-room, by night and also by day. He went for a walk to the
+village sometimes, and always got his dinner there; the rest of the
+time he was at the cottage, attending to everything that concerned Mr.
+Copley. Dolly and her mother were quite put away from that care. And
+whether it were the moral force of character, which acted upon Mr.
+Copley, or whether it were that his disorder had really run its length
+and that a returning tide of health was coming back to its channels,
+the sick man certainly was better. He grew better from day to day. He
+had been quiet and manageable from the first in his new nurse's hands;
+now he began to take pleasure in his society, holding long talks with
+him on all possible subjects. Appetite mended also, and strength was
+gradually replacing weakness, which had been very great. Anxiety on the
+one score of her father's recovery was taken away from Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Other anxieties remained, and even pressed harder, when the more
+immediately engrossing care was removed. In spite of Mr. Shubrick's
+lecture about casting off care, Dolly found it difficult to act upon
+the truth she knew. Her little fund of money was much reduced; she
+could not help asking herself how they were going to live? Would her
+father, as soon as he was strong enough, go back to his former ways and
+be taken up with his old companions? and if he did, how much longer
+could the little household at Brierley struggle on alone? What had
+become of all her father's property in America, from which in old time
+the income had always been more than sufficient for all their wants and
+desires? Was it gone irrevocably? or had only the ready money accruing
+from it been swallowed up in speculation or pleasure? And whence could
+Dolly get light on these points, or how know what steps she ought to
+take? Could her weakness do anything, in view of that fact to which her
+mother had alluded, that Mr. Copley always took his own way? It was all
+utter and dark confusion as she looked forward. Could Dolly trust and
+be quiet?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In her meditations another subject occupied her a good deal. The
+presence of Sandie Shubrick was such a comfort that it was impossible
+not to think what she would do without him when he was gone. He was a
+universal comfort. Since he had taken charge of the sick-room, the
+sickness was disappearing; while he was in command, there was no
+rebellion; the affairs of the household worked smoothly, and Dolly had
+no need to draw a single long breath of perplexity or anxiety. The
+sound of that even, firm step on the gravel walk or in the hall, was a
+token of security; the sight of Mr. Shubrick's upright, alert figure
+anywhere was good for courage and hope. His resolute, calm face was a
+light in the house. Dolly's thoughts were much busied with him and with
+involuntary speculations about him and Christina. It was almost
+unavoidable. She thought, as indeed she had thought before, that Miss
+Thayer was a happy woman, to have so much strength and goodness
+belonging to her. What a shielded life hers would be, by this man's
+side. He would never neglect her or prefer his interests to hers; he
+would never give her cause to be ashamed of him; and here Dolly's lips
+sometimes quivered and a hot tear or two forced their way out from
+under her eyelids. And how could possibly Christina so play fast and
+loose with him, do dishonour to so much goodness, and put off her
+consent to his wishes until all grace was gone out of it? Mr. Shubrick
+apparently had made up his mind to this treatment and was not cast down
+by it; or perhaps would he, so self-reliant as he was, be cast down
+utterly by anything?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+I think perhaps Dolly thought too much about Mr. Shubrick. It was
+difficult to help it. He had brought such a change into her life; he
+was doing such a work in the house; he was so very pleasant a companion
+at those breakfasts and suppers in the kitchen. For his dinner Mr.
+Shubrick persisted in going to the village inn. He said the walk did
+him good. He had become in these few days quite as one of themselves.
+And now he would go. Mr. Copley was fast getting well, and his nurse
+would go. Dolly could not bear to think of it.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap33"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+UNDER AN OAK TREE.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+More than a week passed, and Mr. Copley was steadily convalescent. He
+had not left his room yet, but he needed no longer the steady
+attendance of some one bound to minister to his wants. Dolly was
+expecting now every day to hear Mr. Shubrick say he must bid them
+good-bye; and she took herself a little to task for caring so much
+about it. What was Sandie Shubrick to her, that she should feel such a
+heart-sinking at the prospect of his departure? It was a very wonderful
+thing that he, Christina Thayer's Mr. Shubrick, should have come to
+help this little family in its need; it was very astonishing that he
+should be there even then, waiting on Dolly Copley's sick father; let
+her be satisfied with this so unexpected good, and bid him farewell as
+easily as she had bid him welcome. But Dolly could not. How could she?
+she said to herself. And every time she saw Mr. Shubrick she feared
+lest the dreaded words would fall from his lips. So when he came to her
+one afternoon when she was sitting in the porch, her heart gave a throb
+of anticipation. However, he said nothing of going, but remarked how
+pretty the sloping ground looked, on the other side of the little
+river, with its giant trees and the sunlight streaming through the
+branches upon the greensward.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is very pretty," said Dolly. "The park is beautiful. You ought to
+see it"&mdash;<I>before you go</I>, she was on the point of saying, but did not
+say.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Will you come with me, and show me what I ought to look at?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now?" said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If it is not too warm for you. We might take it easily and keep in the
+shadow of the trees."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, it is not too warm," said Dolly; and she ran to fetch her garden
+hat.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was not August now; the summer was past, yet the weather was fit for
+the height of summer. Warm, spicy, dry air, showing misty in the
+distance like a gossamer veil, and near by a still glow over
+everything. The two young people wandered over the bridge and slowly
+mounted the bank among the oaks and beeches, keeping in the shade as
+much as might be. There was a glorious play of shadow and sunlight all
+over the woodland; and the two went softly along, hardly disturbing the
+wild creatures that looked at them now and then. For the woods were
+full of life. They saw a hare cross an opening, and grey squirrels eyed
+them from the great oak branches overhead; and there was a soft hum of
+insects filling all the silence. It was not the time of day for the
+birds to be merry. Nor perhaps for the human creatures who slowly
+passed from tree to tree, avoiding the spaces of sunlight and summer
+glow. They were neither merry nor talked much.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"This is very noble," said Sandie at last.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Were you ever in England before, Mr. Shubrick?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you have seen many of these fine places already, perhaps?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, not many. My stay has been mostly in London; though I did run down
+a little into the country."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"People say we have nothing like this in America."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"True, I suppose," said Sandie. "We are too young a people, and we have
+had something else to do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is like a dream, that anybody should have such a house and such a
+place as Brierley," Dolly went on. "There is nothing wanting that one
+can imagine, for beauty and dignity and delight of living and luxury of
+ease. It might be the Arabian Nights, or fairyland. You must see the
+house, with its lovely old carvings, and pictures, and old, old
+furniture; and the arms of the family that built it carved and painted
+everywhere, on doors and chairs and mantelpieces."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of the family that built it?" repeated Mr. Shubrick. "Not the family
+that owns it now?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No. You see their arms too, but the others are the oldest. And then it
+would take you hours to go through the gardens. There are different
+gardens; one, most exquisite, framed in with trees, and a fountain in
+the middle, and all the beds filled with rare plants. But I do not like
+anything about the place better than these trees and greensward."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It must be a difficult thing," said Sandie meditatively, "to use it
+all for Christ."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly was silent a while. "I don't see how it <I>could</I> be used so," she
+said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The other made no answer. They went slowly on and on, getting up to the
+higher ground and more level going, while the sun's rays coming a
+little more slant as the afternoon declined, gave an increasing
+picturesqueness to the scene. Mr. Shubrick had been for some time
+almost entirely silent, when Dolly proposed to stop and rest.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"One enjoys it better so," she said. "One has better leisure to look.
+And I wanted to talk to you, besides."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Her companion was very willing, and they took their places under a
+great oak, on the swell of greensward at the foot of it. Ground and
+grass and moss were all dry. Dolly sat down and laid off her hat;
+however, the proposed "talk" did not seem to be ready, and she let Mr.
+Shubrick wait.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wanted to ask you something," said she at last. "I have been wanting
+to ask you something for a good while."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There she stopped. She was not looking at him; she was taking care not
+to look at him; she was trying to regard Mr. Shubrick as a foreign
+abstraction. Seeing which, he began to look at her more persistently
+than hitherto.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What is it?" he asked, with not a little curiosity.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is nobody else I can ask," Dolly went on; "and if you could give
+me the help I want, it would be a great thing for me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I will if I can."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The young man's eyes did not turn away now. And Dolly was an
+excessively pretty thing to look at; so taken up with her own thoughts
+that she was in no danger of finding out that she was an object of
+attention or perhaps admiration. Her companion perceived this, and
+indulged his eyes fearlessly. Dolly's fair, flushed face was thin with
+the work and the care of many weeks past; the traces of that were plain
+enough; yet it was delicately fair all the same, and perhaps more than
+ever, with the heightened spirituality of the expression. The writing
+on her features, of love and purity, habitual self-devotion and
+self-forgetfulness, patience and sweetness, was so plain and so
+unconscious, that it made her a very rare subject of contemplation,
+and, as her companion thought, extremely lovely. Her attitude spoke the
+same unconsciousness; her dress was of the simplest description; her
+brown hair was tossed into disorder; but dress and hair and attitude
+alike were deliciously graceful, with that mingling of characteristics
+of child and woman which was peculiar to Dolly. Lieutenant Shubrick was
+familiar with a very diverse type of womanly charms in the shape of his
+long-betrothed Miss Thayer. The comparison, or contrast, might be
+interesting; at any rate, any one who had eyes to read this type before
+him needed no contrast to make it delightful; and probably Mr. Shubrick
+had such eyes. He was quite silent, leaving Dolly to choose her time
+and her words at her own pleasure.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I know you will," she said slowly, taking up his last words;&mdash;"you
+have already; but I am a bad learner. You know what you said, Mr.
+Shubrick, the day you came, that evening when we were at supper,&mdash;about
+trusting, and not taking care?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly did not look at him, and went on. "I do not find that I can do
+it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do what?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Lay down care. Quite lay it down."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is not easy," Mr. Shubrick admitted.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is it possible, always? I find I can trust pretty well when I can see
+at least a possible way out of difficulties; but when the way seems all
+shut up, and no opening anywhere,&mdash;then&mdash;I do not quite lay down care.
+How can I?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is only one thing that can make it possible."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I know&mdash;you told me; but how then can I get that? I must be very far
+from the knowledge of Christ&mdash;if <I>that</I> is what is wanting."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly's eyes filled with tears.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said Mr. Shubrick gently, "but perhaps it does follow, that you
+have not enough of that knowledge."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course. And how shall I get it? I can trust when I see some light,
+but when I can see none, I am afraid."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If I promised to take you home, I mean, to America, by ways known to
+me but unknown to you, could you trust me and take the steps I bade
+you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+I am not justifying Mr. Shubrick. This was a kind of tentative speech
+for his own satisfaction; but he made it, watching for Dolly's answer
+the while. It came without hesitation.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes," she said. "I should believe you, if you told me so."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yet in that case you would follow me blindly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Seeing no light."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes. But then I know you enough to know that you would not promise
+what you would not do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Thank you. This is by way of illustration. You would not be afraid?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not a bit. I see what you mean," said Dolly, colouring a little.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you think there is anything friends can give one another, so
+precious as such trust?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No&mdash;I suppose not."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is it wonderful, if the Lord wants it of His children?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No. O Mr. Shubrick, I am ashamed of myself! What is the reason that I
+can give it to you, for instance, and not to Him? Is it just
+wickedness?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is rather, distance."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Distance! Then how shall I get near?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you know what a question you are asking me? One of the grandest
+that a creature can ask. It is the question of questions. For, to get
+near, is to see the Lord's beauty; and to see Him is to love Him, and
+to love with that absolute confidence. 'Thou wilt keep Him in perfect
+peace whose mind is stayed on Thee.' And, 'This is life eternal, to
+know thee.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then how, Mr. Shubrick?" said Dolly. "How is one to do?" She was
+almost tearful in her earnestness. But he spoke, earnestly enough, yet
+with a smile.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There are two sides to the question. On your side, you must do what
+you would do in any case where you wanted to cultivate a friendship.
+How would that be?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly pondered. "I never put it so to myself," she said slowly, "and
+yet I suppose it must be so. Why, in any such case I should try to see
+a great deal of the person I wanted to make a friend of. I would be in
+the person's company, hear him talk, or hear her talk, if it was a
+woman; and talk to her. It would be the only way we could become known
+to each other."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Translate, now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Translate?" said Dolly. "You mean,"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Apply to the case in hand."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You mean," said Dolly, "that to study the Bible is to hear the Lord
+speak; and to pray, is to speak to Him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To study the Bible with a heart ready to obey all it finds&mdash;<I>that</I> is
+hearing the Lord speak; and if prayer is telling Him your thoughts and
+wishes in your own language, that is speaking to Him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But it is speaking without an answer."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I beg your pardon. It is speaking without an audible answer; that is
+all."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then how does the answer come?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In receiving what you ask for; in finding what you seek."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly brushed away a tear again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"One needs to take a good deal of time for all that," she said
+presently.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Can you cultivate a friendship on any other terms?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Perhaps not. This is quite a new view of the whole matter, Mr.
+Shubrick. To me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Common sense. And Bible."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Does the Bible speak of it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The Bible speaks of the life of religion as contained in our knowing
+God and in His knowing us."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But He,&mdash;He knows everybody."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not in this way. It is the sweet knowledge of intimate friendship and
+relations of affection. 'I know thee by name,' was one of the reasons
+given why the Lord would grant Moses' bold prayer. 'I have called thee
+by thy name, thou art Mine,' is the word to His people Israel. 'He
+calleth His own sheep by name,' you know it is said of the Good
+Shepherd. And 'they shall all know Me,' is the promise concerning the
+Church in Christ. While, you remember, the sentence of dismissal to the
+others will be simply, 'I know you not.' And, 'the Lord knoweth them
+that are His.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was silence; and then Dolly said, "You said there were two sides
+to the question."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes. Your part we have talked about; it is to study, and ask, and
+obey, and believe. The Lord's part is to reveal Himself to you. It is a
+matter of revelation. You cannot attain it by any efforts of your own,
+be they never so determinate. Therefore your prayer must be constantly
+like that of Moses&mdash;'I beseech thee, show me Thy glory.' And you see,
+that makes your part easy, because the other part is sure."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mr. Shubrick, you are a very comforting talker!" said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nay, I am only repeating the Lord's words of comfort."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So I am to study, and yet study will not do it," said Dolly; "and I am
+to pray, and yet prayer will not give it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Study will not do it, certainly. But when the Lord bestows His light,
+study becomes illumination. No, prayer does not give it, either; yet
+you must ask if yon would have. And Christ's promise to one who loves
+Him and keeps His commandments is,&mdash;you recollect it,&mdash;'I will love him
+<I>and will manifest Myself to him</I>.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That will do, Mr. Shubrick, thank you," said Dolly rising. "You need
+not say any more. I think I understand. And I am very much obliged to
+you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Shubrick made no answer. They went saunteringly along under the
+great trees, rather silent both of them after that. As the sun got
+lower the beauty of the wooded park ground grew more exceeding. All
+that a most noble growth of trees could show, scattered and grouped,
+all that a most lovely undulation of ground surface could give, in
+slope and vista and broken light and shadow, was gilded here and there
+with vivid gold, or filled elsewhere with a sunny, misty glow of
+vapourous rays, as if the air were streaming with gold dust among the
+trees. All tints and hues of greensward, moss, and fern, under all
+conditions of illumination, met their wondering eyes; and for a while
+there was little spoken but exclamations of delight and discussion of
+beautiful effects that came under review. They went on so, from point
+to point, by much the same way that Dolly had taken on her first visit
+to the park; till they came out as she had done from the thinner part
+of the woodland, and stood at the edge of the wide plain of open
+greensward which stretched on up to the House. Here they stood still.
+The low sun was shining over it all; the great groups of oaks and elms
+stood in full revealed beauty and majesty; and in the distance the
+House looked superbly down over the whole.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is hardly anything about Brierley that I like better than this,"
+said Dolly. "Isn't it lovely? I always delight in this great slope of
+wavy green ground; and see how it is emphasised and set off by those
+magnificent trees? And the House looks better from nowhere than from
+here."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is very noble&mdash;it is exceeding beautiful," Mr. Shubrick assented.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now this, I suppose, one could not see in America," Dolly went on;
+"nor anything like it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"America has its own beauties; doubtless nothing like this. There is
+the dignity of many generations here. But, Miss Dolly, as I said
+before,&mdash;it would be difficult to use all this for Christ."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not see how it could be done," said Dolly. "Mr. Shubrick, I
+happen to know, it takes seven or eight thousand a year&mdash;or more&mdash;to
+keep the place up. Pounds sterling, I mean; not dollars. Merely to keep
+the establishment up and in order."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And yet, if I were its owner, I should find it hard to give up these
+ancestral acres and trees, or to cease to take care of them. I am glad
+I am a poor man!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Give them up?" said Dolly. "Do you think <I>that</I> would be duty?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not know. How could I take seven or eight thousand pounds a year
+just to keep up all this magnificence, when the money is so wanted for
+the Lord's work, in so many ways? When it would do such great things,
+given to Him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then, Mr. Shubrick, the world must be very much mistaken in its
+calculations. People would not even understand you, if they heard you
+say that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do <I>you</I> understand me?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh yes. And yet I cannot tell you what delight I take in all this,
+every time I see it. The feeling of satisfaction seems to go to my very
+heart. And so when I am in the house,&mdash;and the gardens. Oh, you have
+not seen the gardens, nor the House either; and there is no time
+to-day. But I do not know that I enjoy anything much more than this
+view. Though the House is delicious, Mr. Shubrick."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I can believe it," he said, smiling. "You see what reason I have to
+rejoice that I am a poor man."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly thought, poor child, as they turned and went homeward, she could
+hardly go so far as to rejoice that she was a poor woman. Not that she
+wanted Brierley; but she did dread possible privation which seemed to
+be before her. She feared the uncertainty which lay over her future in
+regard to the very necessaries of life; she shrank a little from the
+difficulty and the struggle of existence, which she knew already by
+experience. And then, Mr. Shubrick, who had been such a help and had
+made such a temporary diversion of her troubled thoughts, would be soon
+far away; she had noticed that he did not speak of some other future
+opportunity of seeing the house and gardens, when she remarked that it
+was too late to-day. He would be going soon; this one walk with him was
+probably the last; and then the old times would set in again. Dolly
+went along down among the great oaks and beeches, down the bank now
+getting in shadow, and spoke hardly a word. And Mr. Shubrick was as
+silent as she, probably as busy with his own thoughts. So they went,
+until they came again in sight of the bridge and the little river down
+below them, and a few steps more would have brought the cottage into
+view.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We have come home fast," said Mr. Shubrick. "Do you think we need go
+in and show ourselves quite yet? Suppose we sit down here under this
+tree for a few minutes again, and enjoy all we can."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly knew it must be approaching the time for her to see about supper;
+but she could not withstand the proposal. She sat down silently and
+took off her hat to cool herself.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I come here very often," she said, "to get a little refreshment. It is
+so pleasant, and so near home."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You call Brierley 'home.' Have you accepted it as a permanent home?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What can we do?" said Dolly. "Mother and I long to go back to
+America&mdash;we cannot persuade father."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Miss Dolly, will you excuse me for remarking that you wear a very
+peculiar watch-chain," Mr. Shubrick said next, somewhat irrelevantly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My watch-chain! Oh, yes, I know it is peculiar," said Dolly. "For
+anything I know, there is only one in the world."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"May I ask, whose manufacture it is?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It was made by somebody&mdash;a sort of a friend, and yet not a friend
+either&mdash;somebody I shall never see again."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah? How is that?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is a great while ago," said Dolly. "I was a little girl. At that
+time I was at school in Philadelphia, and staying with my aunt there. O
+Aunt Hal! how I would like to see her!&mdash;The girls were all taken one
+day to see a man-of-war lying in the river; our schoolmistress took us;
+it was her way to take us to see things on the holidays; and this time
+it was a man-of-war; a beautiful ship; the 'Achilles.' My chain is made
+out of some threads of a cable on board the 'Achilles.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You did not make it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, indeed. I could not, nor anybody else that I know. The manufacture
+is exquisite. Look at it," said Dolly, putting chain and watch in Mr.
+Shubrick's hand.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But somebody must have made it," said the young officer, examining the
+chain attentively.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes. It was odd enough. The others were having lunch; I could not get
+into the little cabin where the table was set, the place was so full;
+and so I wandered away to look at things. I had not seen them half
+enough, and then one of the young officers of the ship found me&mdash;he was
+a midshipman, I believe&mdash;and he was very good to me. He took me up and
+down and round and about; and then I was trying to get a little bit of
+a piece off a cable that lay coiled up on the deck and could not, and
+he said he would send me a piece; and he sent me that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Seems strong," said Mr. Shubrick, still examining the chain.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, it is very strong."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"This is a nice little watch. Deserves a better thing to carry it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Better!" cried Dolly, stretching out her hand for the chain. "You do
+not appreciate it. I like this better than any other. I always wear
+this. Father gave me a very handsome gold chain; he was of your
+opinion; but I have never had it on. This is my cable." She slipped the
+chain over her neck as she spoke.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What makes you think you will never see the maker of the cable again?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, that is a part of the story I did not tell you. With the chain
+came a little note, asking me to say that I had received it, and signed
+'A. Crowninshield.' I can show you the note. I have it in my work-box
+at home. Do you know anybody of that name in the navy, Mr. Shubrick?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Midshipman?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He might not be a midshipman now, you know. That is nine years ago."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"True. I do not know of a Lieutenant Crowninshield in the navy&mdash;and I
+am sure there is no captain of that name."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is what I thought," said Dolly. "I do not believe he is alive.
+Whenever I saw in the papers mention of a ship of the navy in port, I
+used to go carefully over the lists of her officers; but I never could
+find the name of Crowninshield."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Shubrick here produced his pocket-book, and after some opening of
+inner compartments, took out a small note, which he delivered to Dolly.
+Dolly handled it at first in blank surprise, turned it over and over,
+finally opened it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, this is my note!" she cried, very much confounded. "My own little
+note to that midshipman. Here is my name. And here is his name. How did
+you get it, Mr. Shubrick?" she asked, looking at him. But his face told
+her nothing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It was given to me," he said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"By whom?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"By the messenger that brought it from you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The messenger? But you you&mdash;you&mdash;are somebody else!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Shubrick laughed out.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Am I?" said he. "Well, perhaps,&mdash;though I think not."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But you are not that midshipman?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No. I was he, though."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your name,&mdash;your name is not Crowninshield?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes. That is one of my names. Alexander Crowninshield Shubrick, at
+your service."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly looked at him, like a person awake from a dream, trying to read
+some of the remembered lineaments of that midshipman in his face. He
+bore her examination very coolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why&mdash;Oh, is it possible you are he?" cried Dolly with an odd accent of
+almost disappointment, which struck Mr. Shubrick, but was inexplicable.
+"Why did you not sign your true name?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Excuse me. I signed my true name, as far as it went."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But not the whole of it. Why didn't you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I had a reason. I did not wish you to trace me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But please, why not, Mr. Shubrick?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We might say, it was a boy's folly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I shall not say so," said Dolly, tendering the note back. "I daresay
+you had some reason or other. But I cannot somehow get my brain out of
+a whirl. I thought you were somebody else!&mdash;Here is your note, Mr.
+Shubrick. I cannot imagine what made you keep it so long."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+His hand did not move to receive the note.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have been keeping it for this time," he answered. "And now, I do not
+want to keep it any longer, Miss Dolly, unless&mdash;unless I may have you
+too."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly looked at him now with a face of startled inquiry and uneasiness.
+Whether she were more startled or incredulous of what she heard, it
+would be impossible to say. The expression in her eyes grew to be
+almost terror. But Mr. Shubrick smiled a little as he met them.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I kept the note, for I always knew, from that time, that I should
+marry that little girl, if ever I could find her,&mdash;and if she would let
+me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly's face was fairly blanched. "But&mdash;you belong to somebody else,"
+she said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said he,&mdash;"I beg your pardon. I belong to nobody in the world,
+but myself. And you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Christina told me"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She told you true," said Mr. Shubrick quite composedly. "There was a
+connection subsisting between us, which, while it lasted, bound us to
+each other. It happened, as such things happen; years ago we were
+thrown into each other's company, in the country, when I was home on
+leave. My home was near hers; we saw a great deal of each other; and
+fancied that we liked each other more than the fact was, or rather in a
+different way. So we were engaged; on my part it was one of those
+boyish engagements which boys frequently form before they know their
+own minds, or what they want. On the other side you can see how it was
+from the circumstances of the case. Christina did not care enough about
+me to want to be married; she always put it off; and I was not deeply
+enough concerned to find the delay very hard to bear. And then, when I
+saw you in Rome that Christmas time, I knew immediately that if ever in
+the world I married anybody, it would be the lady that wore that chain."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But Christina?" said Dolly, still with a face of terrified trouble.
+Was then Mr. Shubrick a traitor, false to his engagements, deserting a
+person to whom, whether willingly or not, he was every way bound? He
+did not look like a man conscious of dishonourable dealing, of any
+sort; and he answered in a voice that was both calm and unconcerned.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Christina and I are good friends, but not engaged friends any more.
+Will you read that?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He handed Dolly another letter as he spoke, and Dolly, bewildered,
+opened it.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+"Ischl, <I>May</I> 6, 18&mdash;.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"DEAR SANDIE,&mdash;"You are quite ridiculous to want me to write this
+letter, for anybody that knows you, knows that whatever you say is the
+truth, absolutely unmixed and unvarnished. Your word is enough for any
+statement of facts, without mine to help it. However, since you will
+have it so, here I am writing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But really it is very awkward. What do you wish me to say, and how
+shall I say it? You want a testimony, I suppose. Well, then, this is to
+certify, that you and I are the best friends in the world, and mean to
+remain so, in spite of the fact that we once meant to be more than
+friends, and have found out that we made a mistake. Yes, it was a
+mistake. We both know it now. But anybody may be mistaken; it is no
+shame, either to you or me, especially since we have remedied the error
+after we discovered it. Really, I am in admiration of our
+clear-sightedness and bravery, in breaking loose, in despite of the
+trammels of conventionality. But you never were bound by those
+trammels, or any other, except what you call 'duty.' So I herewith
+declare you free,&mdash;that is what you want me to say, is it not?&mdash;free
+with all the honours, and with the full preservation of my regards and
+high consideration. Indeed, I do not believe I ever shall hold anybody
+else in <I>quite</I> such high consideration; but perhaps that very fact
+made me unfit to be anything but your friend. I am afraid you are too
+good for me, in stern earnest; but I have a notion that will be no
+disadvantage to you in certain other sweet eyes that I know; the
+goodness, I mean, not anything else.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We are here, at this loveliest of lovely places; but we have got
+enough of it, and are going to spend some weeks in the Tyrol. I suppose
+I know where to imagine <I>you</I>, at least part of the summer. And you
+will know where to imagine me next winter, when I tell you that in the
+fall the probability is that I shall become Mrs. St. Leger. You may
+tell Dolly. Didn't I remark to her once that she and I had better
+effect an exchange? Funny, wasn't it? However, for the present I am, as
+I have long been, your very sincere friend, CHRISTINA THAYER."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+Dolly read the letter and stared at it, and finally returned it without
+raising her eyes. And then she sat looking straight before her, while
+her face might be likened to the evening sky when the afterglow is
+catching the clouds. From point to point the flush catches, cloud after
+cloud is lighted up, until under the whole heaven there is one crimson
+glow. Dolly was not much given to blushing, she was not at all wont to
+be a prey to shyness; what had come over her now? When Lawrence St.
+Leger had talked to her on this very same subject, she had been able to
+answer him with scarcely a rise of colour in her cheeks; with a calm
+and cool exercise of her reasoning powers, which left her fully
+mistress of the situation and of herself. She had not been disturbed
+then, she had not been excited. What was the matter now? For Dolly was
+overtaken by an invincible fit of shyness, such as never had visited
+her in all her life. I do not think now she knew that she was blushing;
+according to her custom, she was not self-conscious; what she was
+conscious of, intensely, was Mr. Shubrick's presence, and an
+overwhelming sense of his identity with the midshipman of the
+"Achilles." What <I>that</I> had to do with Dolly's shyness, it might be
+hard to tell; but her sweet face flushed till brow and neck caught the
+tinge, and the eyelids fell over the eyes, and Dolly for the moment was
+mistress of nothing. Mr. Shubrick looking at her, and seeing those
+lovely flushes and her absolute gravity and silence, was in doubt what
+it might mean. He thought that perhaps nobody had ever spoken to her on
+such a subject before; yet Dolly was no silly girl, to be overcome by
+the mere strangeness of his words. Did her silence and gravity augur
+ill for him? or well? And then, without being in the least a coxcomb,
+it occurred to him that her excessive blushing told on the hopeful side
+of the account. He waited. He saw she was as shy as a just caught bird;
+was she caught? He would not make so much as a movement to startle her
+further. He waited, with something at his heart which made it easier
+every moment for him to wait. But in the nature of the case, waiting
+has its limits.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What are you going to do about it?" he inquired at length, in a very
+gentle manner. "Give me my note back again, with the conditions?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly did nothing of the kind. She held the note, it is true, and
+looked at it, but without making any movement to restore it to its
+owner. So decided an action did not seem at the moment possible to her.
+She looked at the little note, with the prettiest sort of
+embarrassment, and presently rose to her feet. "I am sure it is time to
+have supper," she said, "and they cannot do anything at home till I
+come."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Shubrick rose too and followed Dolly, who set off unceremoniously
+down the bank towards the bridge. He followed her, half smiling, and
+wholly impatient. Yet though a stride or two would have brought him
+alongside of her, he would not make them. He kept behind, and allowed
+her to trip on before him, which she did with a light, hasty foot,
+until they neared the little gate of the courtyard belonging to the
+house. Then he stepped forward and held the gate open for her to enter,
+not saying a word. Dolly passed him with the loveliest shy down-casting
+of her eyelids, and went on straight into the house. He saw the bird
+was fluttering yet, but he thought he was sure of her.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap34"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+UNDER THE SAME OAK.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Dolly threw off her hat and went down to the kitchen premises. Mr.
+Shubrick repaired to the sick-room and relieved Mrs. Copley. That lady,
+descending to the lower part of the house, found Dolly very busy with
+the supper-table, and apparently much flushed with the hot weather.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your father's getting well!" she said with a sigh.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's good news, I am sure, mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes,&mdash;it's good news," Mrs. Copley repeated doubtfully; "but it seems
+as if everything good in this world had a bad side to it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly stood still. "What's the matter?" she said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, he's so uneasy. As restless end fidgetty as a fish out of water.
+He is contented with nothing except when Mr. Shubrick is near him; he
+behaves quietly then, at least, however he feels. I believe it takes a
+man to manage a man. Though I never saw a man before that could manage
+your father. <I>He</I> laughs at it, and says it is the habit of giving
+orders."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who laughs at it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mr. Shubrick, to be sure. You don't suppose your father owns to
+minding orders? But he does mind, for all that. What will become of us
+when that young man goes away?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, mother?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My patience, Dolly! what have you done to heat yourself so! Your face
+is all flushed. Do keep away from the fire, or you'll certainly spoil
+your complexion. You're all flushed up, child."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But father,&mdash;what about father?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, he's just getting ready to take his own head, as soon as Mr.
+Shubrick slips the bridle off. He's talking of going up to town
+already; and he will go, I know, as soon as he <I>can</I> go; and then,
+Dolly, then&mdash;I don't know what will become of us!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Copley put her hands over her face, and the last words were spoken
+with such an accent of forlorn despair, that Dolly saw her mother must
+have found out or divined much that she had tried to keep from her. She
+hesitated with her answer. Somehow, the despair and the forlornness had
+gone out of Dolly's heart.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I hope&mdash;I think&mdash;there will be some help, mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where is it to come from?" said Mrs. Copley sharply. "We are as alone
+as we can be. We might as well be on a desert island. Now you have sent
+off Mr. St. Leger&mdash;oh, how obstinate children are! and how little they
+know what is for their good!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+This subject was threadbare. Dolly let it drop. It may be said she did
+that with every subject that was started that evening. Mr. Shubrick at
+supper made brave efforts to keep the talk a going; but it would not
+go. Dolly said nothing; and Mrs. Copley in the best of times was never
+much help in a conversation. Just now she had rather a preoccupied
+manner; and I am by no means certain that, with the superhuman keenness
+of intuition possessed by mothers, she had not begun to discern a
+subtle danger in the air. The pressure of one fear being removed, there
+was leisure for any other to come up. However, Mr. Shubrick concerned
+himself only about Dolly's silence, and watched her to find out what it
+meant. She attended to all her duties, even to taking care of him,
+which to be sure was one of her duties; but she never looked at him.
+The same veil of shy grace which had fallen upon her in the wood, was
+around her still, and tantalised him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Nor did he get another chance to speak to her alone through the next
+two days that passed; carefully as he sought for it. Dolly was not to
+be found or met with, unless sitting at the table behind her tea-urn
+and with her mother opposite. Mr. Shubrick bided his time in a mixture
+of patience and impatience. The latter needs no accounting for; the
+former was half brought about and maintained by the exquisite manner of
+Dolly's presentation of herself those days. The delicate, coy grace
+which invested her, it is difficult to describe it or the effect of it.
+She was not awkward, she was not even embarrassed, the least bit in the
+world; she was grave and fair and unapproachable, with the rarest
+maidenly shyness, which took the form of the rarest womanly dignity.
+She was grave, at least when Mr. Shubrick saw her; but watching her as
+he did narrowly and constantly, he could perceive now and then a slight
+break in the gravity of her looks, which made his heart bound with a
+great thrill. It was not so much a smile as a light upon her lips; a
+play of them; which he persuaded himself was not unhappy. The
+loveliness of the whole manifestation of Dolly during those two days,
+went a good way towards keeping him quiet; but naturally it worked two
+ways. And human patience has limits.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The second day, Mr. Shubrick's had given out. He came in from his walk
+to the village, bringing Mrs. Copley something she had commissioned him
+to get from thence; and found both ladies sitting at a late dinner. And
+not the young officer's eyes alone marked the sudden flush which rose
+in Dolly's cheeks when he appeared, and the lowered eyelids as he stood
+opposite her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We began to review the park, the other day," he said, eyeing her
+steadily. "Can we have another walk in it this afternoon, Miss Dolly?
+The first was so pleasant."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I shouldn't think you'd go pleasuring just now, Dolly, when your
+father wants you," said Mrs. Copley. "You have seen hardly anything of
+him lately. I should think you would go and sit with him this
+afternoon. I know he would like it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Whether this arrangement was agreeable to the present parties
+concerned, or either of them, did not appear. Of course the most
+decorous acquiescence was all that came to light. A little later, Mr.
+Shubrick himself, being thus relieved from duty, quitted the house and
+strolled down to the bridge and over it into the park; and Dolly slowly
+went upstairs to her father's room. It was true, she had been there
+lately less than usual; but there had been a reason for that. Her
+conscience was not charged with any neglect.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Copley seemed sleepily inclined; and after a word or two exchanged
+with him Dolly began to go round the room, looking to see if anything
+needed her ordering hand. Truly she found nothing. Coming to the
+window, she paused a moment in idle wistfulness to see how the summer
+sunshine lay upon the oaks of the park. And standing there, she saw Mr.
+Shubrick, slowly going over the bridge. She turned away and went on
+with her progress round the room.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What are you about there, Dolly?" Mr. Copley called to her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Just seeing if anything wants my attention, father."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nothing does, I can tell you. The room is all right, and everything in
+it. I've been kept in order, since I have had a naval officer to attend
+upon me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't I keep things in order, father?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you do, your mother don't. She thinks that anywhere is a place, and
+that one place is as good as another."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mother seems to think I have neglected you lately. Have you missed me?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Missed you! no. I have had care and company. Where did you pick up
+that young man, Dolly?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I, father? I didn't pick him up."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How came he here, then? What brought him?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know," said Dolly. "Would you like to have me read to you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, child. Shubrick reads to me and talks to me. He's capital company,
+though he's one of your blue sort."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Father! He is not blue, nor am I. Do you think I am blue?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sky blue," said her father. "He's navy blue. That's the difference."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not understand the difference," said Dolly, half laughing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Never mind. What have you done with Mr. Shubrick?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I?" said Dolly, aghast.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes. Where is he?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh!&mdash;I believe, mother sent him into the park."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sent him into the park? What for?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not mean that she sent him," said Dolly, correcting herself in
+some embarrassment; "I mean, that she sent me up here, and he went into
+the park."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wish he'd come back, then. I want him to finish reading to me that
+capital article on English and European politics."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Can I finish it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, child. You don't understand anything about the subject. Shubrick
+does. I like to discuss things with him; he's got a clear head of his
+own; he's a capital talker. When is he going?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Going where, father?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Going away. He can't stay here for ever, reading politics and putting
+my room in order. How long is he going to stay?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well&mdash;when he goes I shall go! I shall not be able to hold out here. I
+shall go back to London. I can't live where there is not a man to speak
+to some time in the twenty-four hours. Besides, I can do nothing here.
+I might as well be a cabbage, and a cabbage without a head to it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are we cabbages?" asked Dolly at this. "Mother and I?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Cabbage roses, my dear; cabbage roses. Nothing worse than that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But even cabbage roses, father, want somebody to take care of them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll take care of you. But I can do it best in London."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you do not want me to read to you father?" Dolly said after a
+pause.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, my dear, no, my dear. If you could find that fellow Shubrick&mdash;I
+should like him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And Mr. Copley closed his eyes as if to sleep, finding nothing worthy
+to occupy his waking faculties. Dolly sat by the window, looking out
+and meditating. Yes, Mr. Shubrick would be going away, probably soon;
+his furlough could not last always. Meanwhile, she had given him no
+answer to his questions and propositions. It was rather hard upon him,
+Dolly felt; and she had a sort of yearning sympathy towards her suitor.
+A little impatience seized her at being shut up here in her father's
+room, where he did not want her, and kept from the walk in the park
+with Mr. Shubrick, who did want her. He wanted her very much, Dolly
+knew; he had been waiting patiently, and she had disappointed every
+effort he made to get speech of her and see her alone, just because she
+was shy of him and of herself. But it was hardly fair to him, after
+all, and it could not go on. He had a right to know what she would say
+to his proposition; and she was keeping him in uneasiness, (to put it
+mildly), Dolly knew quite well. And now, when could she see him? when
+would she have a chance to speak to him alone, and to hear all that she
+yet wanted to hear? but indeed Dolly now was thinking not so much of
+what she wanted as of what <I>he</I> wanted; and her uneasiness grew. He
+might be obliged to go off suddenly; officers' orders are stubborn
+things; she might have no chance at all, for aught she knew, after this
+afternoon. She looked at her father; he had dozed off. She looked out
+of the window; the afternoon sun, sinking away in the west, was sending
+a flood of warm light upon and among the trees of the park. It must be
+wonderfully pretty there! It must be vastly pleasant there! And there,
+perhaps, Mr. Shubrick was sitting at this moment on the bank, wishing
+for her, and feeling impatiently that his free time was slipping away.
+Dolly's heart stirred uneasily. She had been very shy of him; she was
+yet; but now she felt that he had a right to his answer. Something that
+took the guise of conscience opposed her shy reserve and fought with
+it. Mr. Shubrick had a <I>right</I> to his answer; and she was not treating
+him well to let him go without it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly looked again at her father. Eyes closed, breathing indicative of
+gentle slumber. She looked again over at the sunlit park. It was
+delicious over there, among its sunny and shadowy glades. Perhaps Mr.
+Shubrick had walked on, tempted by the beauty, and was now at a
+distance; perhaps he had not been tempted, and was still near, up there
+among the trees, wanting to see her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly turned away from the window and with a quick step went
+downstairs. She met nobody. Her straw flat was on the hall table; she
+took it up and went out; through the garden, down to the bridge, over
+the bridge, with a step not swift but steady. Mr. Shubrick had a right
+to his answer, and she was simply doing what was his due, and there
+might be no time to lose. She went a little more slowly when she found
+herself in the park; and she trembled a little as her eye searched the
+grassy openings. She was not quite so confident here. But she went on.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She had not gone very far before she saw him; under the same oak where
+they had sat together; lying on his elbow on the turf and reading.
+Dolly started, but then advanced slowly, after that one minute's check
+and pause. He was reading; he did not see her, and he did not hear her
+light footstep coming up the bank; until her figure threw a shadow
+which reached him. Then he looked up and sprang up; and perhaps
+divining it, met Dolly's hesitation, for, taking her hands he placed
+her on the bank beside his open book; which book, Dolly saw, was his
+Bible. But her shyness had all come back. The impression made by the
+thought of a person, when you do not see him, is something quite
+different from the living and breathing flesh and blood personality.
+Mr. Shubrick, on the other hand, was in a widely different mood; which
+Dolly knew, I suppose, though she could not see.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"This is unlooked-for happiness," said he, throwing himself down on the
+bank beside her. "What have you done with Mr. Copley?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nothing. He did not want me. He asked me what I had done with Mr.
+Shubrick? I think you have spoiled him." Dolly spoke without looking at
+her companion, be it understood, and her breath came a little short.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And what are you going to do with Mr. Shubrick?" her companion said,
+not in the tone of a doubtful man, lying there on the bank and watching
+her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+But Dolly found no words. She could not say anything, well though she
+recognised Mr. Shubrick's right to have his answer. Her eyes were
+absolutely cast down; the colour on her cheek varied a little, yet not
+with the overwhelming flushes of the other day. Dolly was struggling
+with the sense of duty, the necessity for action, and yet she could not
+act. She had come to the scene of action, indeed, and there her bravery
+failed her; and she sat with those delicate lights coming and going on
+her cheek, and the brown eyes hidden behind the sweep of the lowered
+eyelashes; most like a shy child. Mr. Shubrick could have smiled, but
+he kept back the smile.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You know," he said in calm, matter-of-fact tones, that met Dolly's
+sense of business, "my action must wait upon your decision. If you do
+not let me stay, I must go, and that at once. What do you want me to
+do?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not want you to go," Dolly breathed softly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Silently Mr. Shubrick held out his hand. As silently, though frankly,
+Dolly put hers into it. Still she did not look at him. And he
+recognised what sort of a creature he was dealing with, and had sense
+and delicacy and tact and manliness enough not to startle her by any
+demonstration whatever. He only held the little hand, still and fast,
+for a space, during which neither of them said anything; then, however,
+he bent his head over the hand and kissed it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My fingers are not accustomed to such treatment," said Dolly, half
+laughing, and trying hard to strike into an ordinary tone of
+conversation, though she left him the hand.  "I do not think they ever
+were kissed before."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They have got to learn!" said her companion.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly was silent again. It was with a great joy at her heart that she
+felt her hand so clasped and held, and knew that Mr. Shubrick had got
+his answer and the thing was done; but she did not show it, unless to a
+nice observer. And a nice observer was by her side. Yet he kept silence
+too for a while. It was one of those full, blessed silences that are
+the very reverse of a blank or a void; when the heart's big treasure is
+too much to be immediately unpacked, and words when they come are quite
+likely enough not to touch it and to go to something comparatively
+indifferent. However, words did not just that on the present occasion.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dolly, I am in a sort of amazement at my own happiness," Mr. Shubrick
+said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly could have answered, so was she! but she did not. She only
+dimpled a little, and flushed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have been waiting for you all these years," he went on; "and now I
+have got you!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly's dimples came out a little more. "I thought you did not wait,"
+she remarked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Shubrick laughed. "My heart waited," he said. "I made a boy's
+mistake; and I might have paid a man's penalty for it. But I had always
+known that you and no other would be my wife, if I could find you. That
+is, if I could persuade you; and somehow I never allowed myself to
+doubt of that. I did not take such a chance into consideration."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But I was such a little child," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ay," said he; "that was it. You were <I>such</I> a little child."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But you must have been a very extraordinary midshipman, it seems to
+me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"By the same rule you must have been a very extraordinary little girl."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They both laughed at that.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose we were both extraordinary," said Dolly; "but, really, Mr.
+Shubrick, you know very little about me!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+His answer to that was to kiss again the hand he held.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do you know of me?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think I know a great deal about you," said Dolly softly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have a great deal to learn. Wouldn't you like to begin by hearing
+how Miss Thayer and I came to an understanding?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, yes, yes! if you please," said Dolly, extremely glad to get upon a
+more abstract subject of conversation.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I owe that to myself, perhaps," Mr. Shubrick went on; "and I certainly
+owe it to you. I told you how I got into my engagement with her. It was
+a boyish fancy; but all the same, I was bound by it; and I should have
+been legally bound before now, only that Christina always put off that
+whenever I proposed it. I found too that the putting it off did not
+make me miserable. Dolly, the case is going to be different this time!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You mean," said Dolly doubtfully, "it <I>is</I> going to make you
+miserable?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No! I mean, you are not going to put me off."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, but!"&mdash;&mdash;said Dolly flushing, and stopped.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have settled that point in my own mind," he said, smiling; "it is as
+well you should know it at once.&mdash;So time went by, until I went to
+spend that Christmas Day in Rome. After that day I knew nearly all that
+I know now. Of course it followed, that I could not accept the
+invitation to Sorrento, when you were expected to be there. I could not
+venture to see you again while I was bound in honour to another woman.
+I stayed on board ship, those hot summer days, when all the officers
+that could went ashore. I stayed and worked at my problem&mdash;what I was
+to do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He paused and Dolly said nothing. She was listening intently, and
+entirely forgetting that the sunlight was coming very slant and would
+soon be gone, and that home and supper were waiting for her managing
+hand. Dolly's eyes were fixed upon another hand, which held hers, and
+her ears were strained to catch every word. She rarely dared glance at
+Mr. Shubrick's face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wonder what counsel you would have given me?" he went on,&mdash;"if I
+could have asked it of you as an indifferent person,&mdash;which you were."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know," said Dolly. "I know what people think"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, I knew what people think, too; and it a little embarrassed my
+considerations. However, Dolly, I made up my mind at last to
+this;&mdash;that to marry Christina would be acting a lie; that I could not
+do that; and that if I could, a lie to be acted all my life long would
+be too heavy for me. Negatively, I made up my mind. Positively, I did
+not know exactly how I should work it. But I must see Christina. And as
+soon as affairs on board ship permitted, I got a furlough of a few days
+and went to Sorrento. I got there one lovely afternoon, about three
+weeks after you had gone. Sea and sky and the world generally were
+flooded with light and colour, so as I have never seen them anywhere
+else, it seems to me. You know how it is."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, I know Sorrento," said Dolly. But just then, an English bank
+under English oaks seemed as good to the girl as ever an Italian
+paradise. That, naturally, she did not show. "I know Sorrento," she
+said quietly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And you know the Thayers' villa. I found Christina and Mr. St. Leger
+sitting on the green near the house, under an orange tree&mdash;symbolical;
+and the air was sweet with a thousand other things. I felt it with a
+kind of oppression, for the mental prospect was by no means so
+delicious."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said Dolly. "And sometimes that feeling of contrast makes one
+very keen to see all the lovely things outside of one."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do <I>you</I> know that?" said Mr. Shubrick.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes. I know it"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"One can only know it by experience. What experience can you have had,
+my Dolly, to let you feel it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly turned her eyes on him without speaking. She was thinking of
+Venice at midnight under the moon, and a sail, and a wine-shop. Tell
+him? No, indeed, never!
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are not ready to let me know?" said he, smiling. "How long first
+must it be?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It isn't anything you need know," said Dolly, looking away. But with
+that the question flashed upon her, would he not have to know? had he
+not a right? "Please go on," she said hurriedly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I can go on now easier than I could then," he said with a half laugh.
+"I sat down with them, and purposely brought the conversation upon the
+theme of my trouble. It came quite naturally, <I>apropos</I> of a case of a
+broken engagement which was much talked of just then; and I started my
+question. Suppose one or the other of the parties had discovered that
+the engagement was a mistake? They gave it dead against me; all of
+them; Mrs. Thayer had come out by that time. They were unanimous in
+deciding that pledges made must be kept, at all hazards."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think that is the general view," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is not yours?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I never thought much about it. But I think people ought always and
+everywhere to be true.&mdash;That is nothing to kiss my hand for," Dolly
+added with the pretty flush which was coming and going so often this
+afternoon.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You will let me judge of that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I didn't think you were that sort of person."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What sort of person?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"One of those that kiss hands."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Shall I choose something else to kiss, next time?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+But Dolly looked so frightened that Mr. Shubrick, laughing, went back
+to his story.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We were at Sorrento," he said. "You can suppose my state of mind. I
+thought at least I would take disapprobation piecemeal, and I asked
+Christina to go out on the bay with me. You have been on the bay of
+Sorrento about sun-setting?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh yes, many a time."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I did not enjoy it at first. I hope you did. I think Christina did. It
+was the fairest evening imaginable; and my oar, every stroke I made,
+broke and shivered purple and golden waters. It was sailing over the
+rarest possible mosaic in which the pattern was constantly shifting. I
+studied it, while I was studying how to begin what I had to do. Then,
+after a while, when we were well out from shore, I lay on my oars, and
+asked Miss Thayer whether she were sure that her judgment was according
+to her words, in the matter we had been discussing at the house? She
+asked what I meant. I put it to her then, whether she would choose to
+marry a man who liked another woman better than he did herself?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Christina's eyes opened a little, and she said 'Not if she knew it.'
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'Then you gave a wrong verdict up there,' I said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'But that was about what the <I>man</I> should do,' she replied. 'If he
+has made a promise, he must fulfil it. Or the woman, if it is the
+woman.'
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'Would not that be doing a wrong to the other party?'
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'How a wrong?' said Christina. 'It would be keeping a promise. Every
+honourable person does that.'
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'What if it be a promise which the other side no longer wishes to
+have kept?'
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'You cannot tell that,' said Christina. 'You cannot know. Probably
+the other side does wish it kept.'
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I reminded her that she had just declared <I>she</I>, in the circumstances,
+would not wish it; but she said, somewhat illogically, 'that it made no
+difference.'
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suggested an application of the golden rule."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes," said Dolly; "I think that rule settles it. I should think no
+woman would let a man marry her who, she knew, liked somebody else
+better."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And no man in his senses&mdash;no <I>good</I> man," said Sandie, "would have a
+woman for his wife whose heart belonged to another man; or, leaving
+third parties out of the question, whose heart did not belong to <I>him</I>.
+I said something of this to Christina. She answered me with the
+consequences of scandal, disgrace, gossip, which she said attend the
+breaking off of an engagement. In short, she threw over all my
+arguments. I had to come to the point. I asked her if she would like to
+marry <I>me</I>, if she knew that I liked somebody else better?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She opened her eyes at me. 'Do you, Sandie?' she said. And I told her
+yes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'Who?' she asked as quick as a flash. And I knew then that <I>her</I>
+heart was safe," Mr. Shubrick added with a smile. "I told her frankly,
+that ever since Christmas Day, I had known that if I ever married
+anybody it would be the lady I then saw with her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'Dolly!' she cried. 'But you don't know her, Sandie.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Shubrick and Dolly both stopped to laugh.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am sure that was true. And I should think unanswerable," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It was not true. Do you think it is true now?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, you know me a little better, but I should think, not much."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Shows how little you can tell about it. By the same reasoning, I
+suppose you do not know <I>me</I> much?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said Dolly. "Yes, I do! I know you a great deal, in some things.
+If I didn't"&mdash;&mdash; she flushed up.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We both know enough to begin with; is that it? Do you remember, that
+evening, Christmas Eve, how you sat by the corner of the fireplace and
+kept quiet, while Miss Thayer talked?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes." Dolly remembered it very well.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You wore a black dress, and no ornaments, and the firelight shone on a
+cameo ring on your hand, and on your face, and the curls of your hair,
+and every now and then caught this," said Mr. Shubrick, touching
+Dolly's chain. "Christina talked, and I studied you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"One evening," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"One evening; but I was reading what was not written in an evening.
+However, I left Christina's objection unanswered&mdash;though I do not allow
+that it is unanswerable; and waited. She needed a little while to come
+to her breath."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Poor Christina!" said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not at all; it was poor Sandie, if anybody. I do not think Christina
+suffered, more than a little natural and very excusable mortification.
+She never loved me. I had guessed as much before, and I was relieved
+now to find that I had been certainly right. But she needed a little
+while to get her breath, nevertheless. She asked me if I was serious?
+then, why I did not tell her sooner? I replied that I had had a great
+fight to fight before I could make up my mind to tell her at all.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And then, as I judge, <I>she</I> had something of a fight to go through.
+She turned her face away from me, and sat silent. I did not interrupt
+her; and we floated so a good while on the coloured sea. I do not
+believe she knew what the colours were; but I did, I confess. I had got
+a weight off my mind. The bay of Sorrento was very lovely to me that
+evening. After a good while, Christina turned to me again, and I could
+see that she was all taut and right now. She began with a compliment to
+me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What was it?" Dolly asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Said I was a brave fellow, I believe."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am sure I think that was true."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you? It is harder to be false than true, Dolly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All the same, it takes bravery sometimes to be true."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So Christina seemed to think. I believe I said nothing; and she went
+on, and added she thought I had done right, and she was much obliged to
+me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That was like Christina," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'But you are bold,' she said again, 'to tell me!'
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I assured her I had not been bold at all, but very cowardly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'What do you expect people will say?'
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I told her I had been concerned only and solely with the question of
+how she herself would take my disclosure; what she would say, and how
+she would feel.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She was silent again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'But, Sandie,' she began after a minute or two which were not yet
+pleasant minutes to either of us,&mdash;'I think it was very risky. It's all
+right, or it will be all right, I believe, soon,&mdash;but suppose I had
+been devotedly in love with you? Suppose it had broken my heart? It
+<I>hasn't</I>&mdash;but suppose it had?'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes," said Dolly. "You could not know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think I knew," said Mr. Shubrick. "But at any rate, Dolly, I should
+have done just the same. 'Fais que dois, advienne que pourra,' is a
+grand old motto, and always safe. I could not marry one woman while I
+loved another. The question of breaking hearts does not come in. I had
+no right to marry Christina, even to save her life, if that had been in
+danger. But happily it was not in danger. She did shed a few tears, but
+they were not the tears of a broken heart. I told her something like
+what I have been saying to you.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'But Dolly!' she said. 'You do not know her, you do not even <I>know
+her</I>.' That thought seemed to weigh on her mind."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What could you say to it?" said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I said nothing," Mr. Shubrick answered, smiling. "Then Christina went
+on to remark that Miss Copley did not know me; and that possibly I had
+been brave for nothing. I still made no answer; and she declared she
+saw it in my face, that I was determined it should <I>not</I> be for
+nothing. She wished me success, she added; but 'Dolly had her own way
+of looking at things.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly could not help laughing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So that is my story," Mr. Shubrick concluded.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And, oh, look at the light, look at the light!" said Dolly, jumping
+up. "Where will mother think I and supper are!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She thinks probably that you are in Mr. Copley's room."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, she knows I am not; for she is sure to be there herself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then I will go straight to them, while you bring up arrears with
+supper."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And Christina will marry Mr. St. Leger!" said Dolly, while she flushed
+high at this suggestion. "Yet I am not surprised."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is it a good match?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The world would say so."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"<I>I</I> am not," said Sandie, "according to the same judgment. I am not
+rich, Dolly. By and by I will tell you all I have. But it is enough for
+us to live upon comfortably."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Nobody had ever seen Dolly so shy and blushing and timid as she was
+now, walking down the bank by Mr. Shubrick's side. It was a bit of the
+same lovely manifestation which he had been enjoying for a day or two
+with a little alloy. It was without alloy that he enjoyed it now.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap35"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XXXV.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+WAYS AND MEANS.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+As they entered the house, Dolly went downstairs and Mr. Shubrick up;
+she trembling and in a maze, he with a glad, free step, and a
+particularly bright face. Mrs. Copley was with her husband, as Dolly
+had opined.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Here's one of them," cried Mr. Copley as Sandie entered. "Where have
+you been all this while? If you think I'll do to be left alone yet,
+you're mistaken. Where have you been?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In what I believe is the park of Brierley&mdash;over there under the oaks."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And where is Dolly, Mr. Shubrick?" Dolly's mother asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have just brought her home. She is downstairs."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I sent her to take care of her father," said Mrs. Copley in a
+dissatisfied tone.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She informed me that Mr. Copley did not want her, and preferred me,"
+said Mr. Shubrick.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But you did not come?" said Mrs. Copley suspiciously.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He stood looking at her half a minute, with a slight smile upon his
+face, the frank, pleasant smile which belonged to him; then he turned,
+took a glass from the table and came to Mr. Copley's side to give him a
+draught which was due. Next he lifted his patient by the shoulders a
+little, to arrange the pillows behind him, and as he laid him back upon
+them he said quietly&mdash;"Will you give your daughter to me, Mr. Copley?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Copley looked, or stared rather, grumly enough at the speaker.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That means, you have got her already!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not without your consent."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I thought as much! Does Dolly want to marry you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not know," said Sandie with a smile; "but I believe I may say
+that she will marry nobody else."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ay, there it is. I have other views for my daughter."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And I thought you were engaged to Miss Thayer?" put in Mrs. Copley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"True; I was; but that was a boyish mistake. We have all other views.
+Miss Thayer is to marry your friend, Mr. St. Leger."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Christina!" cried Mrs. Copley. "Didn't I know Mrs. Thayer would do
+that, if she could! And now she has done it. And Christina has thrown
+you over?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not at all," said Sandie, again with a smile. "And you have not to
+blame Mrs. Thayer, so far as I know. Miss Thayer and I are very good
+friends, but we were never intended to marry each other. We have found
+that out, and acted accordingly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And she has got him!" Mrs. Copley repeated. "I told Dolly she would
+like to do that. Put their two fortunes together, and they will have
+enough," said poor Mrs. Copley. "That comes of our going to Sorrento!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Look here, young man," said Mr. Copley. "If I give you Dolly, as you
+say, after she has given herself,&mdash;the witch!&mdash;what are you and she
+going to live on?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We have something to live on," said the young man with quiet
+independence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not much, I'll be sworn!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not perhaps what you would call much. A lieutenant in the navy is not
+likely to have more than a very moderate fortune."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Fortune! What do you call a fortune?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Enough to live on."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are you ever going to be a captain?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I cannot say. But there is some prospect of it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Things might be worse, then," grumbled Mr. Copley. "Anyhow, you have
+tied my tongue, my fine fellow. I can't say a word against you. But
+look here;&mdash;if you don't want a wife that will rule you, I advise you
+not to marry my Dolly. She's a witch for having her own way. 'My
+Dolly'!" Mr. Copley half groaned. "I suppose now she's your Dolly. I
+don't want to give her to any man, that's the truth."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And I thought all this nursing had been so disinterested!" said Mrs.
+Copley dolefully.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sandie's answer to this was conclusive, of the subject and the
+conversation both. He went up to Mrs. Copley, took her hand, and bent
+down and kissed her. Just at that moment they were called to supper;
+and Mrs. Copley, completely conquered, went down with all her
+reproaches smothered in the bud. Yet I confess her face showed a
+conflict of feelings as she entered the kitchen. It was cloudy with
+disappointment, and at the same time her eyes were wet with tears of
+some sweeter feeling. Dolly, standing behind the supper-table, looked
+from the one to the other as the two came in.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is all settled, Dolly," said Mr. Shubrick.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And I think he would have taken his betrothal kiss, then and there, had
+not Dolly's glance been so shy and shrinking that she flashed at him.
+She was standing quietly and upright; there was no awkwardness in her
+demeanour; it was the look of her eyes that laid bans upon Sandie. He
+restrained himself; paid her no particular attention during supper;
+talked a great deal, but on entirely indifferent subjects; and if he
+played the lover to anybody, certainly it was to Mrs. Copley.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He is a good young man, I believe," said Mrs. Copley, making so much
+of an admission as she and Dolly went upstairs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"O mother," said Dolly, half laughing and half vexed, "you say that
+just because he has been entertaining you!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well," returned Mrs. Copley. "I like to be entertained. Don't you find
+him entertaining?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Shubrick kept up the same tactics for several days; behaving
+himself in the house very much as he had done ever since he had come to
+it. And out of the house, though he and Dolly took long walks and held
+long talks together; he was very cool and undemonstrative. He would let
+her get accustomed to him. And certainly in these conversations he was
+entertaining. Walking, or sitting on the bank under some old beech or
+oak tree, he had endless things to tell Dolly; things to which she
+listened as eagerly as ever Desdemona did to Othello; stories out of
+which, avoid personalities as he would, she could not but gain, step by
+step, new knowledge of the story-teller. And hour by hour Dolly's
+respect for him and appreciation of him grew. Little by little she
+found how thorough his education was, and how fine his accomplishments.
+Especially as a draughtsman. Easily and often, in telling her of some
+place or of some naval engagement, Sandie would illustrate for her with
+any drawing materials that came to hand; making spirited and masterly
+sketches with a few strokes of his hand, it might be on paper, or on a
+bit of bark, or on the ground even.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah," said Dolly one day, watching him, "I cannot do that! I can do
+something, but I cannot do that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What can you do?" inquired Sandie.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I can copy. I can take down the lines of a face, or of a bridge, or a
+house, when I see it before me; but I cannot put things on paper out of
+my thoughts. Do you remember how you did this sort of thing for me the
+very first time I saw you?&mdash;in the gun deck of the 'Achilles'?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He smiled, finishing the sketch he was about.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I remember. I remember what pleasure it gave me, too. At that time I
+had a little sister, just your age, of whom I was exceedingly fond."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"At that time&mdash;you <I>had?</I>" Dolly repeated.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes," he said soberly; "I have not anybody now, of near kin to me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly's hand with mute sympathy stole into his. It was the first action
+of approach to him that she had made, unless that coming to him in the
+park three or four days before might be reckoned in the bargain. He
+tossed his drawing into her lap and warmly clasped the hand.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is time you began to talk to me, Dolly," he said. "I have talked a
+great deal, but you have said next to nothing. You must have a great
+many questions to ask me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, you know nothing about me," he said with a laughing look of his
+eyes. "You had better begin. You may ask me anything."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But knowing a person and knowing <I>about</I> him, are very different
+things."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very. And if you have the one sort of knowledge, it seems to me you
+must want to have the other. Unless, where both are alike
+uninteresting; which I cannot suppose is my case."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said Dolly, laughing a little, "but I suppose you will tell me
+things by degrees, without my asking."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What makes you suppose that?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It would be natural, wouldn't it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"<I>Would</I> it be natural, without your showing any interest?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah, but now <I>you</I> are supposing. Perhaps I should show interest."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sandie laughed now heartily.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I will try you," said he. "I will begin and tell you something without
+questions asked. Dolly, I have a house."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Have you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You do not care to hear about it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am glad that you have a house," said Dolly demurely. Sandie was
+lying on the turfy bank, in a convenient position for looking up into
+her eyes; and she found it not precisely an easy position for her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You do not take it as a matter of personal concern?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is a house a long way off," said Dolly. "Just now we are here.''
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How much longer do you expect to be here?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That I do not know at all. Mother and I have tried and tried to get
+father to go home again,&mdash;and we cannot move him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I must try," said Mr. Shubrick.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, if you could!" said Dolly, clasping her hands unconsciously&mdash;"I
+don't know what I would give. He seems to mind you more than anybody."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What keeps him here? Business?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose it is partly business," said Dolly slowly, not knowing quite
+how to answer. And then darted into her heart with a pang of doubt and
+pain, the question: was not Mr. Shubrick entitled to know what kept her
+father in England, and the whole miserable truth of it? She had been so
+occupied and so happy these last days, she had never fairly faced the
+question before. It almost caught her breath away.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dolly, when we all go back to America, the house I speak of will not
+be 'far off.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said Dolly faintly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Look here," said he, taking one of her hands. "It is a house I hope
+you will like. <I>I</I> like it, though it has no pretension whatever. It is
+an old house; and the ground belonging to it has been in the possession
+of my family for a hundred years; the house itself is not quite so old.
+But the trees about it are. The old house stands shut up and empty. I
+told you, I have no one very near of kin left to me; so even when I am
+at home I do not go there. I have never lived there since my mother
+left it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly was silent.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now, how soon do you think I may have the house opened and put in
+order for living in?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There came up a lovely rose colour in the cheeks he was looking at;
+however Dolly answered with praiseworthy steadiness&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is a matter for you to consider."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Certainly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But you know it would be no use to open it, until somebody is ready to
+live there."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said Dolly. "Of course&mdash;I suppose not."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So you see, after all, I have to come to you with questions, seeing
+you will ask me none."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh," said Dolly, "I will ask you questions, if you will let me. I
+would rather ask than answer."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very well," said he, laughing. "I give place to you. Ask what you
+like."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then followed silence. The young officer lay easily on the bank at her
+feet, holding Dolly's hand; sometimes bringing his eyes to bear upon
+her face, sometimes letting them rove elsewhere; amused, but waiting.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I shall have to begin again," said he.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, don't," said Dolly. "Mr. Shubrick, where is your house?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"About fifty miles from Boston, in one of the prettiest New England
+villages on the coast."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And how much ground is there round it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"About a hundred acres."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Doesn't it spoil a house to be shut up so?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is not good for it. But there is nobody belonging to me that I
+would like to see in it; and I could never rent the old place. I am
+very fond of it, Dolly. It is full of associations to me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It swept through Dolly, how she would like to put it in order and keep
+it open for him; and again she was silent, till admonished by a
+laughing, "Go on."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+But Dolly did not know what further to say, and was still silent.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is one question you have not asked me," Mr. Shubrick said,
+"which would be a very pertinent one just now. You have never asked me
+how long <I>I</I> was going to stay in England."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said Dolly, starting. "How soon must you&mdash;how long can you stay?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My leave expires in two weeks."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Two weeks! And can you not get it extended?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know. Perhaps, for a little. But, Dolly, there is a prospect
+of the 'Red Chief' being ordered home; and there is a further
+possibility that I may have to take her home; for Captain Busby is very
+much out of health and wants to stay the winter over in Naples."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You may have to take her home. Will that give you the ship, do you
+mean?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said he, smiling; "ships are not had at such an easy rate as
+that. But, Dolly, you perceive that there are several questions we must
+ask and answer; and the sooner the better."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then," said Dolly a little hurriedly,&mdash;she was afraid of the questions
+that might be coming,&mdash;"if you go away in two or three weeks, when
+shall I see you again?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was more of an admission made in these words than Dolly herself
+knew; and it was made with a tender, shy grace of tone and manner which
+touched the young officer with more than one feeling. He bent down to
+kiss Dolly's hand before he said anything.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is one of the questions," he said. "Let me tell you what I have
+thought about it. The 'Red Chief' has been a long time out; she needs
+overhauling. She will probably be sent home soon, and I am like to be
+in charge of her. I may expect to get a long furlough when I go home;
+and&mdash;I want to spend every minute of it with you. I do not want to lose
+a day, Dolly. Do you understand? I want you to be all ready for me, so
+that we can be married the very day I get to you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You mean, in America?" said Dolly, with a great flush.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I mean, in America, of course. I want to take you straight away from
+your old home to your new one. I will have the house put in
+readiness"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"When do you think you will be there?" Dolly broke in.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"By Christmas, perhaps."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But I am here," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So am I here, just at present," said he, smiling. "But you can go over
+in one ship while I am going over in another, and be there as soon as
+I, or before."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know," said Dolly. "I can't tell about father. I don't know
+when he will be persuaded to leave England."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She looked doubtful and troubled now. Possible difficulties and
+hindrances began to loom up before her, never looked at until then.
+What if her father would not go? What if he persisted in staying by the
+companions who were his comrades in temptation? Could she go away and
+leave him to them? and leave her mother to him? Here offered itself
+another sort of self-sacrifice, to which nothing could be objected
+except its ruinous effect upon her own future. Nay, not <I>her</I> own
+future alone; but what of that? "Fais que dois advienne que pourra." It
+all swept through Dolly's head with the speed, and something of the
+gloom, of a whirlwind.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know anything about his movements," she repeated anxiously.
+"Only, mother and I cannot get him away."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In that case, I will come to England for you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh  no!" said Dolly, shaking her head; "<I>that</I> would not do. I could
+not leave him and mother here."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why not?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly was silent. She could not tell him why not.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Would it be more difficult here, than to leave them in America?" Mr.
+Shubrick asked, the smile upon his lips checked by the very troubled
+expression of Dolly's face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It would not be 'difficult' here; it would be <I>impossible</I>."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"May I ask, why more impossible, or difficult, than in America?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly was silent. What could she say?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Suppose Mr. Copley should prefer to stay in England permanently?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes," said Dolly in a sort of whisper.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What then?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not know," she answered faintly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In America it would be different?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you know, my little Dolly, you are speaking what it is very
+difficult for me to understand?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course," said Dolly. "You cannot understand it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are you not going to give me the grace of an explanation?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I cannot."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then I shall go to Mr. Copley for it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh no!" said Dolly, starting, and laying both her hands upon one of
+the young officer's, as if in pleading or in hindering. "Oh no, Mr.
+Shubrick! Please, <I>please</I>, do not speak to mother or father about
+this! Please say nothing about it!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He kissed and clasped the hands, making, however, no promise. For a
+moment he paused, seeing that Dolly was very deeply disturbed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you think father and mother both could not be tempted to go home
+for your sake?" he then asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, mother, yes; but father&mdash;I don't know about father."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I shall try my powers of persuasion," said Mr. Shubrick lightly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly made no answer and was evidently in so much troubled confusion of
+thought that she was not ready, even if he were, to take up again the
+consideration of plans and prospects, or to enter into any other more
+indifferent subject of conversation. After a trial or two, seeing this,
+Mr. Shubrick proposed to get a book and read to her; which he had once
+or twice done to their great mutual pleasure. And as Dolly eagerly
+welcomed the proposal, he left her there on the bank and went down to
+the cottage, which was not very far off, to fetch the book. As soon as
+he was out of sight, Dolly laid her face in her hands.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was all rushing upon her now, what she had scarce looked at before
+in the pre-occupation and happiness of the last days. It was a
+confusion of difficult questions. Would her father leave the companions
+and habits to which he had grown so fast, and go back to America for
+her sake&mdash;that is, for the sake of seeing her promptly married? Dolly
+doubted it much. It was quite possible that her father would regard
+that consideration as the reverse of an inducement. It was quite
+possible that no unselfish inducement would have any power at all with
+him. Then he would stay in England. And so long as he was in England,
+in the clutches of the temptation that had got so much power, Dolly
+could not leave him; and if she could leave him, it would be impossible
+to forsake her mother, whose only stay and comfort on earth she was. In
+that case, what was she to say to Mr. Shubrick? How could he
+understand, that for Dolly to leave father and mother was any way
+different or more difficult than Christina's or any other girl's doing
+the same thing? He could not understand, unless she told him all; and
+how was it possible for her to do that? How could she tell her lover
+her father's shame? And if she simply refused to marry him and refused
+to give any reason, what was he to think then? Shame and fear and
+longing took such possession of Dolly that she was thrown into great
+perturbation. She left her seat on the bank and walked up and down
+under the great trees. A good burst of tears was near, but she would
+not give way to that; Sandie would see it. He would be back presently.
+And he would be putting his question again; and whatever in the world
+should she say to him? For the hundredth time the bitter apostrophe to
+her father rose in Dolly's heart. How <I>could</I> he have let her be
+ashamed of him? And then another thought darted into her head. Had not
+Mr. Shubrick a right to know all about it? Dolly was almost distracted
+with her confusion of difficulties.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She would not cry, which as she told herself would help nothing. She
+stood by a great oak branch which, leaving the parent trunk a few feet
+higher up, swept in lordly fashion, in a delicious curve, down towards
+the turf, with again a spring upward at its extremity. Dolly stood
+where it came lowest, and had rested her two arms upon it, looking out
+vaguely into the green wilderness beyond. She thought she was safe;
+that was not the side towards the cottage, from which quarter Mr.
+Shubrick would come; she would hear his steps in time before she turned
+round. But Mr. Shubrick had seen her standing there, and innocently
+made a little bend from the straight path so as to come up on one side
+and catch a stolen view of her sweet face. Coming so, he saw much more
+than he expected, and much more than Dolly would have let him see. The
+next moment he had taken the girl in his arms.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly started and would have freed herself, but she found she could not
+do it without making more effort than she was willing to use. She stood
+still, fluttering, trembling, and at the same time not a little abashed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What is troubling you, Dolly?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly dared not look and could not speak. Silence made an admission,
+she knew; nevertheless, she could find no words to say.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't you love me well enough to tell me?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, it isn't that," cried Dolly; "it's <I>because</I>"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Here Dolly's revelations came to an end, and yet she had revealed a
+good deal. A dark glow came into the young officer's eyes. Truly, she
+had before never told him so much as that she loved him. But his next
+words were spoken in the same tone with the foregoing. It was very
+affectionate, and withal there was a certain accent of authority in it.
+I think it awed Dolly a little. She had known really very little of
+authority, as exercised towards herself. This was something very unlike
+her father's careless acquiescence, or his careless opposition; very
+unlike the careless way in which he would sometimes throw his arm round
+her, affectionate though that was. The affection here was different,
+Dolly felt with an odd sort of astonishment; and the care, and the
+asserted right of ownership. It gave the girl a thrill of joy; at the
+same time it had upon her a kind of subduing effect. So came his next
+question, gently as it was put, and it was put very gently.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you not think I have a right to know?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Perhaps," she stammered. "Oh, I don't know but you ought to know,&mdash;but
+how can I tell you! Oh, I don't know how I can tell you!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly trembled in her doubt and distress; she fought down tears. Both
+hands went up to cover her face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is it a trouble in which I can help?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If I am to help, you must tell me something more, Dolly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, but I cannot. Oh, if you knew, you would know that I cannot. I
+think perhaps you ought to know,&mdash;but I cannot tell you! I don't see
+how I can tell you!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then do not try to tell me, until we are married," said he soothingly.
+"It will be easier then."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But I think you ought to know before," said Dolly, and he felt how she
+trembled in his arms. "If you don't know, you will not be able to
+understand"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What?" for Dolly paused.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What I do. You will not understand it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What are you going to do?" said Mr. Shubrick, smiling; she knew he was
+smiling. "You are going home to be ready to meet me; and the day I
+come, we are going to be married. Then you can tell me what you like.
+Hey?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But you don't know!" cried Dolly. "I can't tell when we shall go home.
+I don't know whether father will quit England for all I can say. I
+don't know whether he will ever quit it!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then, as I remarked before, I will have the honour to come to England
+and fetch you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah, but I could not go then."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why not?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I could not leave them alone here."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why not here as well as in America?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My father needs me here," said Dolly in a low voice and with
+tears,&mdash;what sharp tears of bitterness!&mdash;coming into her eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Needs you! Do not I need you?" said Mr. Shubrick.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said Dolly. "I am so glad you don't!" And her brown eyes gave one
+flash of undoubted, albeit inexplicable, pride and rejoicing into his
+face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How do you dare say that, Dolly?" he asked in growing curiosity and
+mystification.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You can stand alone," she said, her voice again drooping. Mr. Shubrick
+was silent a moment, considering what this might mean. They had not
+altered their relative positions during this little dialogue. Dolly's
+face was again covered by her hands.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know if I can stand alone," said Sandie at last slowly; "but I
+am not going to try."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Perhaps you must," said Dolly sadly, lifting her face again. "If I can
+get father to go home, I will; maybe you can do it if I cannot. But I
+am not sure that anybody can do it. Mr. Shubrick, he did not use to be
+like this; he was everything different; he was what you would have
+liked; but now he has got in with some people here in whose company
+he&mdash;oh, how can I tell you!" cried Dolly, bursting into tears; but then
+she fought them back and struggled for voice and went on with sad
+bravery. "I have told you so much, I must tell you the whole. He is not
+just master of himself; temptation takes hold of him and he cannot
+resist it. They lead him to play and&mdash;betting&mdash;and he loses money,&mdash;and
+then comes wine." Dolly's voice fell. "I have been trying and trying to
+get him back; sometimes I almost thought I had done it; but the
+temptation gets hold of him again, and then everything goes. And so, I
+cannot be sure," Dolly went on, as Mr. Shubrick remained silent, "what
+he will do about going home. Once he would have done it for me; but I
+do not know what he will do now. I cannot tell. And if there is a hope
+for him, it is in me. I have not been able to do much, yet; but if I
+cannot, no one can. Unless you, perhaps; but you cannot be with him.
+And you see, Mr. Shubrick, that even if I can be of no use to him, I
+could not leave mother all alone. I could not. I am glad you know it
+all now; but"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly could say nothing more. In sorrow and shame and agitation of
+spirits, she broke down and sobbed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Her lover was very still; but though he spoke not a word, Dolly was
+feeling all the while the new guardianship she had come into; what
+strong love and what resolute care it was; feeling it the more because
+Mr. Shubrick was so quiet about it. It was new to Dolly; it was very
+delicious; ah, and what if she were but learning that now, to do
+without it for ever after! Her tears had more sources than one;
+nevertheless, as soon as she could manage it, Dolly mastered her
+feelings and checked down the expression of them; lifted her head and
+wiped her eyes, as if she had done now with tears for the term of her
+natural life. Even forced a smile, as she said&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Please, Mr. Shubrick, let me go,&mdash;you must be tired of me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Which Dolly, to be sure, had no reason to think, and had still less
+reason a minute after; being obliged to learn, somewhat to her
+astonishment, that there was also a difference in kisses as well as in
+some other things. Dolly was exceedingly filled with confusion.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I&mdash;didn't&mdash;give you leave!" she managed to say, abashed as she was.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said Sandie, laughing. "And yet I think you did, Dolly. I am glad
+to see your dimples again! Come here and sit down. I think I see the
+way out of our difficulties."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have been quick in finding it," said Dolly, as he placed her on
+the bank.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Habit," said Sandie. "Sailors <I>must</I> see their way and make their
+decisions quickly, if at all. At least, that is oftentimes the case.
+This is one of the cases."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Can you depend on decisions formed so suddenly?"&mdash;Dolly was driven by
+some unaccountable instinct of shyness to lead off from the subject in
+hand, nearly as it concerned her. And besides, she was too flushed and
+abashed to deal coolly with any subject.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"<I>Must</I> depend on them," said Sandie, laughing a little at her pretty
+confusion. "As I told you, there is often no other to be had. And a
+sailor cannot afford to change his course; he must see to it that he is
+right at first. Vacillation would be almost worse than anything."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"At that rate, sailors must get a very downright way with them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Perhaps. Are you afraid of it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," said Dolly demurely. "Are you a good sailor?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Shubrick laughed out "Do you doubt it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, not at all," said Dolly, laughing a little herself. "Only you can
+do so many things&mdash;drawing, and speaking so many languages,&mdash;I wanted
+to know if you were good at that too."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is one of the necessities of my position, Dolly. A man who cannot
+sail a ship had better not try to command her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wish you would tell me one thing," said Dolly wistfully.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I will tell you anything."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wish you would tell me how you got your promotion. When I saw you
+first, you were a midshipman on board the 'Achilles.' Christina told me
+you had distinguished yourself in the war. How was it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Shubrick gave her a glance of surprise at first, at this very
+irrelevant propounding of questions; then a gleam came out of his blue
+eyes, which were not in the least like Mr. St. Leger's blue eyes; but
+he answered quite gravely.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have a right to know, if anybody in the world has; and yet I
+cannot tell you, Dolly. I did nothing more than hundreds of others;
+nothing but my duty. Only it happens, that if a man is always doing his
+duty, now and then there comes a time that draws attention to him, and
+brings what he does into prominence; and he gets advancement perhaps;
+but it does not follow that he has done any more than hundreds of
+others would have done."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are there so many men that are 'always doing their duty'?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I hope so. I believe so. In naval affairs."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have not told me what was the occasion that brought your doings
+into prominence?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He glanced at her with a flash in his eyes again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is that pressing just now?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Isn't now a good time?" said Dolly, smiling.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, for my head is full of something else. I can't tell you how I came
+to be promoted first. After I was raised to a lieutenancy, I got
+special credit for disciplining the crew."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Disciplining?" said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Exercising them in gunnery practice."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh!&mdash;I remember how you told me about that in the gun deck of the
+'Achilles.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"This was on board another ship. Her guns were well served upon an
+occasion that followed, and honourable mention was made of my services
+as having led to that result. Now shall I go on?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you have any more to tell."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am going no further on that tack. You must come about."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose," said Dolly quaintly, "I must if you must."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We were getting too far to leeward. We must come up into the wind a
+little more, Dolly, and face our difficulties. I think I have found the
+way out of them. As I understand you, it is quite a matter of
+uncertainty when, or if ever, Mr. Copley can be induced to leave
+England."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Quite uncertain. Even if he promised to-day that he would go next
+week, I could not be sure but he would change his mind before the day
+came."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And so long as he and your mother are here, they need you. Do you see,
+Dolly, what prospect that opens to us?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The only thing to do, is to give me a right to speak in the matter."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have a right to speak," said Dolly. "Only"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have no right to speak with authority. You must give me the
+authority."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How?" said Dolly shyly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is but one way. Don't you see, if I have the right to say where
+you shall be, the rest all follows?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How can you?" said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He took her hand gently. "You must marry me before I go," said he. "It
+is the only way, Dolly. Don't be startled; you shall have all the time
+you want to get accustomed to the thought. I am not going to hurry you.
+The only difference is, that instead of being married the day I get to
+you in America, we will have the ceremony performed here, the day I
+leave you. Not till then, Dolly. But then, of course, you must go to
+America to meet me; and if I know anything of Mr. and Mrs. Copley,
+where you must be, they will choose to be also. I think I can get
+another week or two of leave, so that it will not seem so very sudden."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly had flushed and paled a little. She sat looking on the ground in
+silence. Mr. Shubrick let her have a while to herself, and then asked
+her what she thought of his plan?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know," said Dolly faintly. "I mean," she added,&mdash;"perhaps it
+is the best way. I don't know but it is the only way. I don't believe
+mother will like it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We will talk her over," said the young officer joyfully. "You said
+<I>she</I> wishes to go home?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh yes. And I think she will come over to our side, when she knows the
+reasons."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sandie bent down and reverently kissed the hand he held.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then"&mdash;&mdash; said Dolly, on whose cheek the flushes were coming and
+going,&mdash;but she did not finish her sentence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then, what?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I was thinking to ask, how soon or when you expect your ship to go
+home?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not know certainly. Probably I shall be ordered home before
+Christmas; but it may not be till January."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly was silent again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If our plan is carried out, <I>you</I> will go sooner, will you not?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, immediately. As soon as possible."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In that case you will be there before I shall. I told you, I have
+nobody very nearly belonging to me; but there is a cousin&mdash;a sort of
+cousin&mdash;living in the place; Mrs. Armitage; I will send her word to
+open the house and get it in some sort of order for us."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Both were silent again for a space, and I think not only one was happy.
+For Dolly knew the plan would work. But she was struggling besides with
+a thought which she wanted, and did not want, to speak. It must come
+out! or Dolly would not have been Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mr. Shubrick"&mdash;&mdash; she began.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What?" said he eagerly; for Dolly's tone showed that there was a good
+deal behind it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Would you&mdash;I was thinking"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"About what?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The house. Would you&mdash;trust <I>me?</I> I mean, of course, if we are there
+before you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A flood of colour rushed over Dolly's face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Trust you?" he said with a bright light in his eyes. "What am I going
+to do all my life? Trust you to put your own house in order? I cannot
+think of anything I should like quite so well. What a delightful
+thought, Dolly!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I should like it," said Dolly shyly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then, instead of writing to Mrs. Armitage to open the house, I will
+send her an order to deliver the key to Mrs. Shubrick."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He liked to watch how the colour flitted on her face, and the lines of
+brow and lip varied; how she fluttered like a caught bird, and yet a
+bird that did not want to fly away. Dolly was frank enough; there was
+nothing affected, or often even conscious, about this shy play; it was
+the purest nature in sweetest manifestation. Shyness was something
+Dolly had never been guilty of with anybody but Mr. Shubrick; it was an
+involuntary tribute she constantly paid to him.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap36"></A>
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XXXVI.
+</H3>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+THIS PICTURE AND THAT.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+The plan worked, as Dolly had known from the first, that it would. Mrs.
+Copley came into it, and then Mr. Copley could not resist. It only
+grieved Mrs. Copley's heart that there should be, as she said, no
+wedding. "Might as well be married in a barn!" she said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The barn-like effect was a little taken off by Lord and Lady Brierley's
+presence at the ceremony, which to be sure was performed in no barn,
+but the pretty village church; and by the breakfast given to Dolly
+thereafter at the great house. This was not what Dolly or Mr. Shubrick
+had desired. It came about on this wise.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly went to pay a farewell visit of thanks to Lady Brierley and to
+her good friend the housekeeper. Sandie accompanied her. Now, Mr.
+Shubrick was one of those persons who make their way in all companies.
+Lady Brierley, talking to Dolly, eyed the while the figure of the young
+officer, his face, and his fine, quiet, frank manners; watched him
+talking with her husband, who happened to come in; and also caught with
+her practised eye a glance or two of Dolly's. Dolly, be it remarked,
+was not shy here; before her noble friends, she neither flushed nor
+trembled nor was nervous. But Lady Brierley saw how things were.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So," said her ladyship at last, when Dolly was about taking
+leave,&mdash;"you have not told me, but I know it,&mdash;you are going home to
+get married!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That would seem to be the natural order of things," said Sandie, as
+Dolly was not immediately ready with her answer; "but we are going to
+reverse the terms. We are purposing to be married first and then go
+home."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The lady looked at him with a curious mixture of expressions; it was
+too early in the century then for an officer of the American navy to be
+altogether a pleasant sight to the eyes of an Englishwoman; at the same
+time, she could not wholly withhold her liking from this young
+officer's fine looks and manly bearing. She turned to Dolly again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I hope you are going to ask me to your wedding," she said. "When is it
+to be, Dolly?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My mother thinks it does not deserve to be called a wedding," said
+Dolly, dimpling and growing rosy. "I should not have ventured to ask
+your ladyship. But if you are so kind&mdash;it is to be on the morning of
+the 10th&mdash;very early in the morning, for Mr. Shubrick has to set off
+that day to rejoin his ship."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll get up by daybreak," said her ladyship, arching her brows, "if it
+is necessary. And you will come here from the church and have breakfast
+with me, will you? It would be a great pleasure to me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+So it had been arranged; and, as I said, Mrs. Copley had been a good
+deal comforted by the means. Lady Brierley's breakfast was beautiful;
+she had caused her rooms to be dressed with flowers in Dolly's honour;
+the company was small, but the more harmonious; and the presents given
+to Dolly were very handsome.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And now there is nothing more to do, but to give two pictures; and even
+for them there is hardly room.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The scene of the first, is a house in Harley Street, London. It is an
+excellent house, and just new furnished and put in cap-a-pie order from
+top to bottom. In the drawing-room a group of people taking a general
+survey. One of them a very handsome young man, in unexceptionable
+style, waiting upon two ladies; a beauty, and the beauty's mother.
+Things in the house meet approval.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think it is perfect," said Mrs. Thayer. "Just perfect. The man has
+done his work very well." She was referring to the upholsterer, and at
+the moment looking at the window curtains.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Isn't that a lovely tint of French grey?" said Christina, "and the
+blue fringe is the right thing for it. I think the folds are a little
+too full&mdash;but it is a good fault. It is all right, I believe. I do like
+a drawing-room with no fault in it, no eye-sore."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There could hardly be any fault in the work of Hans and Piccalilly,"
+remarked St. Leger.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, I don't know, Lawrence," said the young lady. "Didn't they do the
+Fortescues' house? and the drawing-room is in white and gold; very
+pretty in itself, but just think how it will set off all those florid
+people. A bunch of peonies on a white ground!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lawrence laughed. "<I>You</I> can bear anything," he said. "But blue suits
+you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's just perfect," Mrs. Thayer repeated. "I see nothing to find fault
+with. Yes, Christina can bear anything and wear anything. It saves a
+great deal of trouble. When I was a girl I had a different complexion.
+I wasn't a peony, but I <I>was</I> a rose&mdash;not a white rose; and anything
+shading on red I could not wear; not purple, nor claret, nor even ashes
+of roses. It was a regular perplexity, to get variety enough with the
+small number of shades at my disposal; for orange did not become me,
+either. Well, I can wear anything now, too," she added with a half
+laugh. "And it is nothing to anybody."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mamma, you know better than that," said Christina.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now," said Lawrence, "the question is, when shall we take possession?
+The house is all ready for us."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is no use in taking possession till we are ready to keep it; and
+it would be dull to stay in town all winter, wouldn't it?" said
+Christina. "Whatever should we do?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very dull," said Mrs. Thayer. "It is a long while yet before the
+season begins. Better be anywhere else."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I was thinking of Brighton," said Christina.  "I think I should like
+that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"After the Peacocks," said Lawrence. "We are due there, you know, for a
+visit."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, after the Peacocks, of course. But then,&mdash;do you think, Lawrence,
+we could do anything better than go to Brighton? Till the season opens?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Brighton quite met Mr. St. Leger's views of what was desirable.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was a month or two later, as it happened, that another house was
+undergoing inspection, a house at a very great distance from Harley
+Street, geographically and otherwise; but let the reader judge. This
+was a country house in a fair New England village; where there was land
+enough for everybody, and everybody had land, and in consequence the
+habitations of men were individually, as the habitations of men should
+be, surrounded with grass and trees and fields; the very external
+arrangements of the place giving thereby a type of the free and
+independent life and wide space for mental and characteristic
+development enjoyed by the inhabitants. The particular house in
+question was not outwardly remarkable above many others; it stood in a
+fair level piece of ground, shaded and surrounded with beautiful old
+American elms. The inspectors of the same were two ladies.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly had come to the village a week or two before. Mr. Copley was not
+just then in condition to be left alone; so as her mother could not be
+with her, she had summoned her dear Aunt Hal, from Philadelphia; and
+Mr. Eberstein would not be left behind. All three they had come to this
+place, found quarters at the inn, and since then Dolly and Mrs.
+Eberstein had been very busy getting the house cleaned and put in
+order. The outside, as I said, gave promise of nothing remarkable;
+Dolly had been the more surprised and pleased to find the interior
+extremely pleasant and not commonplace. Rooms were large and airy;
+picturesquely arranged; and furnished, at least in part, in a style for
+which she had not been at all prepared. The house had been for a long
+stretch of years in the possession of a family, not wealthy, but well
+to do, and cultivated; and furthermore, several of the members of it at
+different times had been seafaring; and, as happens in such cases,
+there had been brought home from foreign parts a small multitude of
+objects of art or convenience which bore witness to distant industries
+and fashions. India mats of fine quality were on some of the floors;
+India hangings at some of the windows; beautiful china was found to be
+in quantity, both of useful and ornamental kinds. Little lacquered
+tables; others of curious inlaid work; bamboo chairs; Chinese screens
+and fans; and I know not what all besides. Dolly and Mrs. Eberstein
+reviewed these articles with great interest and admiration; they gave
+the house, simple as it was, an air of elegance which its exterior
+quite forbade one to look for. At the same time, some other necessary
+things were wanting, or worn. The carpet in what Dolly called the
+drawing-room was one of these instances. It was very much the worse for
+wear. Dolly and her aunt went carefully over everything; adjusting,
+supplying, arranging, here and there; Dolly getting a number of small
+presents by the way, and a few that were not small. At last Mr.
+Eberstein sent in a fine carpet for the drawing-room; and Dolly would
+not have it put down.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not till Mr. Shubrick comes," she said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why not, my dear? this is threadbare," her aunt pleaded.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Aunt Hal, I should not like to give the room a strange look. He may
+have associations with this old carpet, for anything I know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Men do not have 'associations' with things," said Mrs. Eberstein.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Some men do, and perhaps he is one of them. At any rate, I want the
+house to look like home to him when he comes. I'll put down the carpet
+afterwards, if he likes it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am afraid you are going to spoil him, Dolly," said Mrs. Eberstein,
+shaking her head. "I hope he is worthy of it all. But don't spoil him!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He is much more likely to spoil me, Aunt Hal."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Spoil <I>you!</I>" exclaimed her aunt indignantly. "What do you know about
+it? O Dolly, Dolly! I hope you have got the right man!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At which, however, Dolly showed all her dimples, and laughed so
+comically that Mrs. Eberstein, right or wrong, was obliged to laugh
+with her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Copley had once said a true thing about his daughter; that if she
+married Mr. St. Leger she would be devoted to him. "If"&mdash;yes, so she
+would. And being now married to somebody else, Dolly was a very
+incarnation of loyalty to her husband. Alas, many another woman has
+trusted so, on less grounds, and made shipwreck; but Dolly's faith was
+well founded, and there was no shipwreck in store for her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+So the day came when all was in readiness, and the two ladies took a
+satisfied review of their work. It was the day when Mr. Shubrick was
+looked for home. The "Red Chief" had arrived in port; and Sandie had
+written that by the evening of this day he hoped to be at home.
+Everything was in order; fires were lighted; a servant installed below
+stairs; supper prepared; nothing left to be done anywhere. Dolly had
+seen to the supper carefully herself; indeed, for a day or two there
+had been some very thoughtful cooking and baking going on; which Mrs.
+Eberstein had watched with great interest, some amusement, and ever so
+little a bit of jealousy.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is Mr. Shubrick a difficult man to please?" she demanded.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How can I tell?" said Dolly. "I have only seen him in our house, not
+in his own. He did not scold there; but how do I know what he may do
+here?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Scold!" repeated Mrs. Eberstein. "Dolly, I believe it would rouse all
+the wickedness there is in me, if anybody should scold <I>you!</I>"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly flushed rosily, and then she fairly laughed out.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I will tell you a secret, Aunt Hal," she said. "I don't mean that in
+this matter, at least, he shall find any occasion."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+So the supper was ready, and the table was set, and fires were bright.
+Mrs. Eberstein stayed with Dolly till the evening began to fall, and
+then went back to the inn; averring that she would not for the universe
+be found in Mr. Shubrick's house when he came. Dolly stood at the
+window and watched her aunt's dark figure moving down to the gate, and
+then still stood at the window watching. It was all snow stillness
+outside.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was a faint moonlight, which glistened on the white ground and
+bare elm branches. A few inches of snow had fallen the day before; the
+sun had thawed the surface slightly, and then it had frozen in a
+glittering smooth crust. It was still outside as only leafless winter
+can be, when there are no wings to flutter, or streams to trickle, or
+chirrup of insects to break the calm. Not a footfall, not a sleigh
+bell; not another light in sight, but only the moon. Anybody in the
+road might have seen another light,&mdash;that which came from Dolly's
+windows. She had been hard to suit about her arrangements; she would
+not have candles lit, for she did not wish an illumination that might
+make the interior visible to a chance passer-by; and yet she would not
+have the shutters shut, for the master of the house coming home must
+read his welcome from afar in rays of greeting from the windows. So she
+made up the fires and left the curtains open; and ruddy firelight
+streamed out upon the snow. It was bright enough to have revealed Dolly
+herself, only that the house stood back some distance from the road.
+Dolly watched and listened a while; then crossed the hall to the room
+on the other side, from the windows of which a like glow shone out. The
+fire was in order; the table stood ready. Dolly went back again. It was
+so still outside, as if Sandie never would come. She listened with her
+heart beating hard and fast.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+For an hour and a half, perhaps; and then she heard the tinkle of
+sleigh bells. They might be somebody else's. But they came nearer, and
+very near, and stopped; only Dolly heard a mixed jangle of the bells,
+as if the horse had thrown his head up and given a confused shake to
+them all. The next thing was the gate falling to, and a step crunching
+the crisp snow. Then the house door opened with no preliminary knock;
+and somebody was throwing off wraps in the hall.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly had made a step or two forward, and stopped; and when Sandie
+appeared on the threshold, she was standing in the middle of the room,
+as pretty a picture of shy joy as a man need wish to see in his heart
+or his house. If Mrs. Eberstein could have been there and watched his
+greeting of her, the lady's doubts respecting his being "the right man"
+would perhaps have been solved.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+But after the first hasty word or two, it was very silent.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dolly," Mr. Shubrick said at last. And there he stopped; nothing
+followed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What were you going to say?" Dolly whispered.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So much, that I do not know how to begin. I cannot get hold of the end
+of anything. Are you not going to let me see your eyes? I do not know
+where I am, till I get a look into them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He smiled a moment after; for, although shyly and fleetingly, the brown
+eyes were lifted for a brief glance to his. What a sweet, tender
+simpleness was in them, and yet what a womanly, thoughtful brow was
+above them; and, yes, Sandie read somewhat else that a man likes to
+read; a fealty of love to him that would never fail. It went to his
+heart. But he saw too that Dolly's colour had left her cheeks, though
+at first they were rosy enough; and in the lines of her face generally
+and the quiver of her lip he could see that the nervous tension was
+somewhat too much. He must lead off to commoner subjects.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who is here with you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nobody."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You do not mean that you are <I>alone</I> here, Dolly?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No. Oh no. I mean, nobody in the house. Aunt Harry and Uncle Ned are
+at Baxter's. Aunt Harry only left me an hour or two ago, when it was
+time to expect you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It was very kind of her to leave you!" said Sandie frankly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We have been here a fortnight. When I found I could not have mother, I
+wrote to Aunt Hal; and she came."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What was the matter with your mother?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly half unwound herself from the arms that held her, and turned her
+face away. She was trying to choke something down that threatened to
+stop her speech.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Father"&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What of him?" said Sandie with a grave change of tone.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am not sorry," said Dolly. "But, oh! to think that I should not be
+sorry!" She covered her face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sandie was silent, waiting and wondering. It could not be Mr. Copley's
+death that was in question; but what then could it be? He waited, to
+let Dolly take her own time. Neither did he have to wait long.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You remember," she began, still with her face turned away,&mdash;"you
+remember what I told you one day in Brierley Park&mdash;about father?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Certainly I remember."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You understood me?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, I think so."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you knew that I was&mdash;very anxious"&mdash;Dolly caught her
+breath&mdash;"about what might come? Oh, it is not treason for me to talk to
+you about it&mdash;now!" cried Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is not treason for you to tell me anything," said Mr. Shubrick,
+drawing her again closer, though Dolly kept her face bent down out of
+his sight. "Treason and you have nothing in common. What is it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I told you, I knew there was no safety," she said, making a quick
+motion of her hand over her eyes. "I hoped things would be better over
+here, away from those people that led him the wrong way; and they
+<I>were</I> better; it was like old times; still I knew there was no safety.
+And now&mdash;he is taken care of," she said with a tremble of her lip which
+spoke of strong pain, strongly kept down. "He went to see some new fine
+machinery in somebody's mill. Somehow, by some carelessness, his coat
+got caught in the machinery; and before the works could be stopped his
+leg was&mdash;fearfully broken." Dolly spoke with difficulty and making
+great effort to master her agitation. The arms that held her felt how
+she was quivering all over.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"When, Dolly? When did this happen?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Soon after we came home. It is six weeks ago now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How is your father now?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Doing very well; getting cured slowly. But he will never walk again
+without&mdash;support. Oh, do you see how I am so sorry and glad together?
+Isn't it dreadful, that I should be glad?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She looked up now, for she would not distress Mr. Shubrick by giving
+way to the tears which would have been a relief to herself. She looked
+up with such a face! the eyes shining through tears, the mouth
+trembling with a smile; sunshine and rain all in one glitter. "And
+<I>that</I> is the way he has been taken care of!" she said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Shubrick stooped his face gently to hers with a mute, caressing
+motion, leaving her time to get rid of those encumbering tears or to
+shed more of them; waiting till the tremor subsided a little. Soon
+Dolly spoke again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It has been such a weight on me&mdash;oh, such a weight! I could hardly
+bear it sometimes. And now&mdash;this is better."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes," he said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You had to know of it. I was very sorry!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sorry that I should know?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh yes, yes! Sorry and ashamed. Sorry for you, too." Dolly's trembling
+was excessive.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Hush!" said Sandie softly. "What is yours is mine; sorrow and joy
+together. I think I had better go and take up my old office of nurse
+again."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh," said Dolly, starting, and a glad tone coming into her voice,
+"would you? How he would like that!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It must have been a little hard for them both to have you come away
+just now. I think we will go and comfort them up, Dolly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are very, very good!" said Dolly, with her eyes glistening, and
+speaking from hearty conviction.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Whom are you talking to? I have not heard my name yet."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have not got accustomed to you yet, you know," Dolly said with a
+little nervous laugh. "Besides,&mdash;I never did."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Never did what?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I never called you anything but&mdash;Mr. Shubrick."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Christina did."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Poor Christina!" said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why?" said the other merrily. "She is the rich Mrs. St. Leger; why do
+you say 'Poor Christina'?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am afraid I have come between her and happiness," Dolly said,
+blushing frankly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have no occasion to say that," Sandie said, laughing. "She has got
+what she wanted. There was a terrible danger that she might have come
+between <I>me</I> and happiness. But for her&mdash;I am not at all sure that she
+would have been happy with me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I remember," said Dolly, "she told me one time, she knew she would not
+'<I>have her head</I>' so much, if she were once married to you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She would not have approved my old house, either," said Sandie
+contentedly, letting Dolly go that he might put up the fire, which had
+tumbled down, after the fashion of wood fires.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She might have liked it," Dolly answered.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You do?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, very much! Aunt Hal and I think it is charming. And it is full of
+lovely things."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Wants a new carpet, I should say," said Sandie, eyeing the threadbare
+one under his feet, which Mrs. Eberstein had objected to.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There!" said Dolly. "Aunt Hal said you would never know what was on
+the floor. I told her she was mistaken."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What gave her such a poor opinion of my eyesight?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, nothing, it was not of your <I>eyesight</I>, I don't know, unless she
+thinks that is the way with men in general. Uncle Ned had brought me a
+present of a beautiful new carpet for this room, and Aunt Harry wanted
+me to have it put down; but I wouldn't until I knew whether you would
+like it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Whether I would like it!" Sandie repeated, rather opening his eyes. "I
+should think the question was, whether <I>you</I> would like it. I like new
+carpets."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I did not know but you might have some affection for this old one,"
+said Dolly. "I did not want to change the look of the room before you
+came, so that it would not seem like home. Aunt Harry said I would
+spoil you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What did you answer to that?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I said it was more likely you would spoil me," said Dolly, dimpling up
+and flushing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you think I will?" said Sandie, taking her hand and drawing her up
+to him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dolly hesitated, flushed and dimpled more, and answered, however, a
+frank "No."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why?" was the quick next question.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You ask too many things," said Dolly. "Don't you want something to
+eat?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, not at all!&mdash;Yes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I thought so," said Dolly, laughing. "Come, then."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She put her hand in his and led him across the broad hall to the
+dining-room. And during the next hour Sandie might have recurred with
+reason to his late remark; that Christina had been near coming between
+him and happiness. The careless luxury of her way of entertaining him,
+was in strongest contrast to the sweet, thoughtful, delicate
+housewifery of his wife. It was a constant pleasure to watch her.
+Tea-making, in her hands, was a nice art; her fingers were deft to cut
+bread; and whenever the hands approached him, whether it were to give a
+cup of tea or to render some other ministry, it was with an
+indescribable shyness and carefulness at once, which was wholly
+bewitching. Sandie was hungry, no doubt; but his feast was mental that
+night, and exquisite.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+Meanwhile, he talked. He gave Dolly details of his voyage home, which
+had been stormy; got from her a full account of the weeks since she had
+set foot on American ground; and finally informed her that his having a
+ship was certain, and in the near future.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+"Poor Christina!" said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Hush!" said he, laughing and drawing her with him back into the other
+room; "you shall not say that again. Would you like to go to
+Washington? The probability is that you will have to go."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Anywhere," said Dolly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They stood silently before the fire for a few minutes; then Mr.
+Shubrick turned to her with a change of tone.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why did you think I would not spoil you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She was held fast, she could not run away; he was bending down to look
+in her face, she could not hide it. Dolly's breath came short. There
+was so much in the tone of his words that stirred her. Besides, the
+answer&mdash;what came at last was&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sandie, you know you wouldn't!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Reasons?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh!&mdash;reasons."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes. I want to know the reasons, Dolly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In her desperation Dolly looked up, one good glance of her brown eyes;
+then she hid her face. I think Sandie was satisfied, for he asked no
+more.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes," he said presently. "I love you too well, and you love me too
+well. We will try to help each other up; not down. Dolly, I would not
+spoil you for the whole world! and I do not believe I could if I tried."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+The lady from whom this story comes, remembers having seen Mrs.
+Shubrick when she was a beautiful old lady. Then and all her life she
+wore her cable watch-chain.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR>
+
+<P CLASS="finis">
+THE END.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+Typographical errors silently corrected:
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+Chapter 1: =if they don't know Him= replaced by =if they don't know him=
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+Chapter 3: ='The sails are said= replaced by =The sails are said=
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+Chapter 4: =what strange shapes:= replaced by =what strange shapes;=
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+Chapter 4: =unschoolgirl-like;= replaced by =unschoolgirl-like,=
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+Chapter 6: =for calculation,= replaced by =for calculation;=
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+Chapter 10: =all her beauty she= replaced by =all her beauty, she=
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+Chapter 10: =pay my gardener.= replaced by =pay my gardener."=
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+Chapter 11: =old-fashioned flowers showed= replaced by =old-fashioned
+flowers, showed=
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+Chapter 18: =with it. I should= replaced by =with it, I should=
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+Chapter 18: =No" said Rupert= replaced by =No," said Rupert=
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+Chapter 20: =If Lawrence, had= replaced by =If Lawrence had=
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+Chapter 22: =there by interpreting= replaced by =there, by
+interpreting=
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+Chapter 22: =to him, Dolly= replaced by =to Him, Dolly=
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+Chapter 23: =in thee.&mdash;I am= replaced by =in thee.'&mdash;I am=
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+Chapter 25: =and he cometh.= replaced by =and he cometh.'=
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+Chapter 25: ="Though people do= replaced by ="though people do=
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+Chapter 26: =ways, of private= replaced by =ways of private=
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+Chapter 28: =hateth you."= replaced by =hateth you.'"=
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR><BR>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The End of a Coil, by Susan Warner
+
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+
diff --git a/27618.txt b/27618.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7d03dfa
--- /dev/null
+++ b/27618.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,21712 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The End of a Coil, by Susan Warner
+
+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 End of a Coil
+
+Author: Susan Warner
+
+Release Date: December 25, 2008 [EBook #27618]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE END OF A COIL ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Daniel Fromont.  HTML version by Al Haines.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Transcriber's note: Susan Warner, _The End of a Coil_ (1880)]
+
+
+
+
+THE END OF A COIL.
+
+
+BY
+
+SUSAN WARNER
+
+
+
+AUTHOR OF
+
+"THE WIDE, WIDE WORLD."
+
+
+
+"Well begun is half done."
+
+
+
+LONDON:
+
+JAMES NISBET & CO., 21 BERNERS STREET
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTE TO THE READER.
+
+As in the case of "My Desire," the turning facts of this story are
+fact; even to the most romantic and unlikely detail. In this is found,
+I hope, my justification for making the hero in one place repeat
+something very like what was said by the hero of Queechy on a like
+occasion. I was unwilling to disturb the absolute truth of the story,
+so far as I had it.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+CHAPTER
+
+      I. DOLLY'S ARRIVAL
+     II. CHRISTINA AND HER MOTHER
+    III. THE MARINE DICTIONARY
+     IV. THE "ACHILLES"
+      V. THE PIECE OF ROPE
+     VI. END OF SCHOOL TERM
+    VII. PLAYTHINGS
+   VIII. LONDON
+     IX. THE PEACOCKS
+      X. BRIERLEY COTTAGE
+     XI. IN THE PARK
+    XII. THE HOUSE
+   XIII. PREACHING AND PRACTICE
+    XIV. DIFFICULTIES
+     XV. THE CONSUL'S OFFICE
+    XVI. A FIGHT
+   XVII. RUPERT
+  XVIII. A SQUARE PARTY
+    XIX. SEEING SIGHTS
+     XX. LIMBURG
+    XXI. VENICE
+   XXII. MR. COPLEY
+  XXIII. THE WINE SHOP
+   XXIV. PAST GREATNESS
+    XXV. CHRISTMAS EVE
+   XXVI. NAPLES
+  XXVII. SORRENTO
+ XXVIII. AT THE VILLA
+   XXIX. WHITHER NOW?
+    XXX. DOWN HILL
+   XXXI. HANDS FULL
+  XXXII. THE NURSE
+ XXXIII. UNDER AN OAK TREE
+  XXXIV. UNDER THE SAME OAK
+   XXXV. WAYS AND MEANS
+  XXXVI. THIS PICTURE AND THAT
+
+
+
+
+THE END OF A COIL.
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+DOLLY'S ARRIVAL.
+
+The door stands open of a handsome house in Walnut Street--the Walnut
+Street which belongs to the city of William Penn; and on the threshold
+stands a lady, with her hand up to her brows, shielding her eyes from
+the light. She is watching to see what will come out of a carriage just
+driving up to the curbstone. The carriage stops; there descends first
+the figure of a handsome, very comfortable-looking gentleman. Mrs.
+Eberstein's eyes pass over him very cursorily; she has seen him before;
+and there is hardly a curl on his handsome head which his wife does not
+know by heart. What comes next? Ah, that is she!--the figure of the
+expected one; and a little girl of some eleven years is helped
+carefully out by Mr. Eberstein, and comes up the steps to the waiting
+and watching lady. A delicate little thing, delicate in frame and
+feature alike, with a fair, childish face, framed in by loose light
+brown curls, and a pair of those clear, grave, wise, light hazel eyes
+which have the power of looking so young and so spiritually old at
+once. Those eyes are the first thing that Mrs. Eberstein sees, and they
+fascinate her already. Meanwhile kind arms are opened wide, and take
+the little one in.
+
+"Come at last, darling! And do you remember your Aunt Hal? and are you
+half as glad to see her as she is to see you?" So Mrs. Eberstein gives
+her greeting, while she is drawing the child through the hall and into
+the parlour; gives it between kisses.
+
+"Why, no," said her husband, who had followed. "Be reasonable, Harry.
+She cannot be so glad to see you as we are to see her. She has just
+come from a long stage-coach journey; and she is tired, and she is
+hungry; and she has left a world she knows, and has come to a world she
+doesn't know; hey, Dolly? isn't it true? Tell your Aunt Hal to stop
+asking questions, and give you something to eat."
+
+"I have come to a world I don't know," repeated the little girl by way
+of answer, turning her serious small face to her questioner, while Mrs.
+Eberstein was busily taking off coat and hat and mufflers.
+
+"Yes, that's what I say!" returned Mr. Eberstein. "How do you like the
+look of it, hey?"
+
+"I wonder who is asking questions now!" said Mrs. Eberstein. "There,
+darling! now you are at home."
+
+She finished with another kiss; but, nevertheless, I think the feeling
+that it was a strange world she had come to, was rather prominent in
+Dolly. She suddenly stooped to a great Maltese cat that was lying on
+the hearthrug, and I am afraid the eyes were glad of an excuse to get
+out of sight. She touched the cat's fur tenderly and somewhat
+diligently.
+
+"She won't hurt you," said her aunt. "That is Mr. Eberstein's pet. Her
+name is Queen Mab."
+
+"She don't look much like a fairy," was Dolly's comment. Indeed, Queen
+Mab would outweigh most of her race, and was a magnificent specimen of
+good feeding.
+
+"You do," thought Mrs. Eberstein. Aloud she asked: "What do you know
+about fairies?"
+
+"Oh, I know they are only stories. I have read about them."
+
+"Fairy tales, eh?"
+
+"No, not much fairy tales," said Dolly, now rising up from the cat. "I
+have read about them in 'Midsummer Night's Dream.'"
+
+"'Midsummer Night's Dream,' you midget!" exclaimed Mrs. Eberstein.
+"Have you read that? And everything else you could lay hands on?"
+
+She took the child in her arms again as she spoke. Dolly gave a quiet
+assent.
+
+"And they let you do just what you like at home? and read just what you
+like?"
+
+Dolly smiled slightly at the obviousness of the course of action
+referred to; but the next minute the smile was quenched in a mist of
+tears, and she hid her head on Mrs. Eberstein's shoulder. Kisses and
+caresses of course followed, not successfully. At last Mr. Eberstein's
+repeated suggestion that food, in the circumstances, would be very much
+in place, was acted upon. Supper was served in the next room, which did
+duty for a dining-room; and the little family gathered round a
+bountifully spread table. There were only those three; and, naturally,
+the attention of the two elder was very much concentrated upon the
+third new member of the party; although Mr. Eberstein was hungry and
+proved it. The more Mrs. Eberstein studied her new acquisition,
+however, the more incitement to study she found. .
+
+Dolly was not like most children; one could see that immediately. Faces
+as pretty, and more pretty, could easily be found; the charm was not in
+mere flesh and blood, form or colour. Other children's faces are often
+innocent too, and free from the shadow of life's burdens, as this was.
+Nevertheless, it is not often, it is very rarely, that one sees the
+mingling of childish simplicity with that thoughtful, wise, spiritual
+look into life, which met one in Dolly's serious hazel orbs; not often
+that sweetness and character speak so early in the lines of the lips;
+utterly childish in their soft, free mobility, and yet revealing
+continually a trait of thoughtfulness or of strength, along with the
+happy play of an unqualified tender disposition. "You are lovely! you
+are lovely!" was Mrs. Eberstein's inner cry; and she had to guard
+herself that the thought did not come to too open expression. There was
+a delicate air of refinement also about the child, quite in keeping
+with all the rest of her; a neat and noiseless handling of knife and
+fork, cup and saucer; and while Dolly was evidently hungry as well as
+her uncle, she took what was given to her in a thoroughly high-bred
+way; that is, she made neither too much nor too little of it.
+
+Doubtless all the while she was using her power of observation, as Mrs.
+Eberstein was using hers, though the fact was not obtruded; for Dolly
+had heart wants quite as urgent as body wants. What she saw was
+reassuring. With Mr. Eberstein she had already been several hours in
+company, having travelled with him from New York. She was convinced of
+his genial kindness and steadfast honesty; all the lines of his
+handsome face, and every movement of his somewhat ease-loving person,
+were in harmony with that impression. Mrs. Eberstein was a fit mate for
+her husband. If Dolly had watched her a little anxiously at first, on
+account of her livelier manner, she soon made out to her satisfaction
+that nothing but kindness, large and bounteous, lodged behind her
+aunt's face, and gave its character to her aunt's manner. She knew
+those lively eyes were studying her; she knew just as well that nothing
+but good would come of the study.
+
+The meal over, Mrs. Eberstein took her niece upstairs to make her
+acquainted with her new quarters. It was a little room off the hall
+which had been destined for Dolly, opening out of her aunt's own; and
+it had been fitted up with careful affection. A small bedstead and
+dressing-table of walnut wood, a little chest of drawers, a little
+wardrobe; it was a wonder how so much could have been got in, but there
+was room for all. And then there were red curtains and carpet, and on
+the white spread a dainty little eider-down silk quilt; and on the
+dressing-table and chest of drawers pretty toilet napkins and
+pincushion. It was a cosy little apartment as ever eleven years old
+need delight in. Dolly forthwith hung up her hat and coat in the
+wardrobe; took brush and comb out of her travelling bag, and with
+somewhat elaborate care made her hair smooth; as smooth, that is, as a
+loose confusion of curly locks allowed; then signified that she was
+ready to go downstairs again. If Mrs. Eberstein had expected some
+remark upon her work, she was disappointed.
+
+In the drawing-room, she drew the child to sit down upon her knee.
+
+"Well, Dolly, what do you think you are going to do in Philadelphia?"
+
+"Go to school--they say."
+
+"Who says so?"
+
+"Father says so, and mother."
+
+"What do you think they want you to go to school for?"
+
+"I suppose that I may become like other people."
+
+Mr. Eberstein burst out into a laugh. His wife's eyes went over to him
+adjuringly.
+
+"Are you not like other people now, Dolly?"
+
+The child's sweet, thoughtful brown eyes were lifted to hers frankly,
+as she answered, "I don't know, ma'am."
+
+"Then why do you say that? or why do they say it?"
+
+"I don't know," said Dolly again. "I think they think so."
+
+"I daresay they do," said Mrs. Eberstein; "but if you were mine, I
+would rather have you unlike other people."
+
+"Why, Aunt Harry?"
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Eberstein; "now you'll have to go on and tell." And
+Dolly's eyes indeed looked expectant.
+
+"I think I like you best just as you are."
+
+Dolly's face curled all up into a smile at this; brow and eyes and
+cheeks and lips all spoke her sense of amusement; and stooping forward
+a little at the same time, she laid a loving kiss upon her aunt's
+mouth, who was unspeakably delighted with this expression of
+confidence. But then she repeated gravely--
+
+"I think they want me changed."
+
+"And pray, what are you going to do, with that purpose in view?"
+
+"I don't know. I am going to study, and learn things; a great many
+things."
+
+"I don't believe you are particularly ignorant for eleven years old."
+
+"Oh, I do not know anything!"
+
+"Can you write a nice hand?"
+
+Dolly's face wrinkled up again with a sense of the comical. She gave an
+unhesitating affirmative answer.
+
+"And you have read Shakespeare. What else, Dolly?"
+
+"Plutarch."
+
+"'Plutarch's Lives'?" said Mrs. Eberstein, while her husband again
+laughed out aloud. "Hush, Edward. Is it 'Plutarch's Lives,' my dear,
+that you mean? Caesar, and Alexander, and Pompey?"
+
+Dolly nodded. "And all the rest of them. I like them very much."
+
+"But what is your favourite book?"
+
+"That!" said Dolly.
+
+"I have got a whole little bookcase upstairs full of the books I used
+to read when I was a little girl. We will look into it to-morrow, and
+see what we can find. 'Plutarch's Lives' is not there."
+
+"Oh, I do not want that," said Dolly, her eyes brightening. "I have
+read it so much, I know it all."
+
+"Come here," said Mr. Eberstein; "your aunt has had you long enough;
+come here, Dolly, and talk to me. Tell me which of those old fellows
+you think was the best fellow?"
+
+"Of 'Plutarch's Lives'?" said Dolly, accepting a position upon Mr.
+Eberstein's knee now.
+
+"Yes; the men that 'Plutarch's Lives' tell about. Whom do you like
+best?"
+
+Dolly pondered, and then averred that she liked one for one thing and
+another for another. There ensued a lively discussion between her and
+Mr. Eberstein, in the course of which Dolly certainly brought to view
+some power of discrimination and an unbiassed original judgment; at the
+same time her manner retained the delicate quiet which characterised
+all that belonged to her. She held her own over against Mr. Eberstein,
+but she held it with an exquisite poise of ladylike good breeding; and
+Mr. Eberstein was charmed with her. The talk lasted until it was broken
+up by Mrs. Eberstein, who declared Dolly must go to rest.
+
+She went up herself with the child, and attended to her little
+arrangements; helped her undress; and when Dolly was fairly in bed,
+stood still looking at the bright little head on the pillow, thinking
+that the brown eyes were very wide open for the circumstances.
+
+"Are you very tired, darling?" she asked.
+
+"I don't know," said Dolly. "I guess not very."
+
+"Sleepy?"
+
+"No, I am not sleepy yet. I am wide awake."
+
+"Do you ever lie awake, after you have gone to bed?"
+
+"Not often. Sometimes."
+
+"What makes you do it?"
+
+"I don't know. I get thinking sometimes."
+
+"About what can such a midget as you get thinking?"
+
+Dolly's face wrinkled up a little in amusement at this question. "I see
+a great many things to think about," she answered.
+
+"It's too soon for you to begin that," said Mrs. Eberstein, shaking her
+head. Then she dropped down on her knees by the bedside, so as to bring
+her face nearer the child's.
+
+"Dolly, have you said your prayers?" she asked softly.
+
+The brown eyes seemed to lift their lids a little wider at that. "What
+do you mean, Aunt Harry?" she replied.
+
+"Do you never pray to the Lord Jesus before you go to sleep?"
+
+"I don't do it ever. I don't know anything about it."
+
+The thrill that went over Mrs. Eberstein at this happily the little one
+did not know. She went on very quietly in manner.
+
+"Don't you know what prayer is?"
+
+"It is what people do in church, isn't it?"
+
+"What is it that people do in church?"
+
+"I do not know," said Dolly. "I never thought about it."
+
+"It is what you do whenever you ask your father or mother for anything.
+Only that is prayer to your father or mother. This I mean is prayer to
+God."
+
+"We don't call it prayer, asking them anything," said Dolly.
+
+"No, we do not call it so. But it is really the same thing. We call it
+prayer, when we speak to God."
+
+"Why should I speak to God, Aunt Harry? I don't know how."
+
+"Why He is our Father in heaven, Dolly. Wouldn't it be a strange thing
+if children never spoke to their father?"
+
+"But they can't, if they don't know him," said Dolly.
+
+Here followed a strange thing, which no doubt had mighty after-effects.
+Mrs. Eberstein, who was already pretty well excited over the
+conversation, at these words broke down, burst into tears, and hid her
+face in the bedclothes. Dolly looked on in wondering awe, and an
+instant apprehension that the question here was about something real.
+Presently she put out her hand and touched caressingly Mrs. Eberstein's
+hair, moved both by pity and curiosity to put an end to the tears and
+have the talk begin again. Mrs. Eberstein lifted her face, seized the
+little hand and kissed it.
+
+"You see, darling," she said, "I want you to be God's own child."
+
+"How can I?"
+
+"If you will trust Jesus and obey Him. All who belong to Him are God's
+dear children; and He loves them, and the Lord Jesus loves them, and He
+takes care of them and teaches them, and makes them fit to be with Him
+and serve Him in glory by and by."
+
+"But I don't know about Jesus," said Dolly again.
+
+"Haven't you got a Bible?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Never read it?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Never went to Sunday School?"
+
+"No, ma'am."
+
+"Little Dolly, I am very glad you came to Philadelphia."
+
+"Why, Aunt Harry?"
+
+"Because I love you so much!" exclaimed Mrs. Eberstein, kissing the
+child's sweet mouth. "Why, Dolly, Jesus is the best, best friend we
+have got; nobody loves us so much in the whole world; He gave his life
+for us. And, then, He is the King of glory. He is everything that is
+loving, and true, and great, and good; 'the chiefest among ten
+thousand.'"
+
+"What did He give His life for?" said Dolly, whose eyes were growing
+more and more intent.
+
+"To save our lives, dear."
+
+"From what?"
+
+"Why, Dolly, you and I, and everybody, have broken God's beautiful law.
+The punishment for that is death; not merely the death of the body, but
+everlasting separation from God and His love and His favour; that is
+death; living death. To save us from that, Jesus died Himself; He paid
+our debt; He died instead of us."
+
+"Then is He dead?" said Dolly awefully.
+
+"He was dead; but He rose again, and now He lives, King over all. He
+was God as well as man, so the grave could not hold Him. But He paid
+our debt, darling."
+
+"You said, death was everlasting separation from God and good," said
+Dolly very solemnly.
+
+"For us, it would have been."
+
+"But He did not die that way?"
+
+"He could not, for He is the glorious Son of God. He only tasted death
+for us; that we might not drink the bitter cup to eternity."
+
+"Aunt Harry," said Dolly, "is all that true?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"When did He do that?"
+
+"It is almost nineteen hundred years ago. And since then, if any one
+trusts His word and is willing to be His servant, Jesus loves him, and
+keeps him, and saves him, and makes him blessed for ever."
+
+"But why did He do that? what made Him?"
+
+"His great love for us."
+
+"Us?" Dolly repeated.
+
+"Yes. You and me, and everybody. He just came to save that which was
+lost."
+
+"I don't see how He can love me," said Dolly slowly. "Why, I am a
+stranger to Him, Aunt Harry."
+
+"Ah, you are no stranger! Oh yes, Dolly, He loves you dearly; and He
+knows all about you."
+
+Dolly considered the matter a little, and also considered her aunt,
+whose lips were quivering and whose eyes were dropping tears. With a
+very serious face Dolly considered the matter: and came to a conclusion
+with promptitude unusual in this one subject of all the world. She half
+rose up in her bed.
+
+"Then I love Him," she said. "I will love Him, too, Aunt Harry."
+
+"Will you, my darling?"
+
+"But I do not know how to be His servant."
+
+"Jesus will teach you Himself, if you ask Him."
+
+"How will He teach me?"
+
+"He will make you understand His word, and let you know what pleases
+Him. He says, 'If ye love me, keep My commandments.'"
+
+"His commandments are in the Bible, aren't they?"
+
+"Certainly. You say you have not got a Bible?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then we will see about that to-morrow, the first thing we do. You
+shall have a Bible, and that will tell you about His commandments."
+
+"Aunt Harry, I would like Him to know to-night that I love Him."
+
+"Then tell Him so, dear."
+
+"Can I?"
+
+"To be sure you can. Why not?"
+
+"I do not know how."
+
+"Tell Him, Dolly, just as if the Lord Jesus were here present and you
+could see Him. He is here, only you do not see Him; that is all the
+difference Tell Him, Dolly, just as you would tell me; only remember
+that you are speaking to the King. He would like to hear you say that."
+
+"I ought to kneel down when I speak to Him, oughtn't I? People do in
+church."
+
+"It is proper, when we can, to take a position of respect when we speak
+to the King; don't you think so?"
+
+Dolly shuffled herself up upon her knees in the bed, not regarding much
+that Mrs. Eberstein threw a shawl round her shoulders; and waited a
+minute or two, looking intensely serious and considering. Then laying
+her hands involuntarily together, but with her eyes open, she spoke.
+
+"O Lord Jesus,--Aunt Harry says you are here though I cannot see you.
+If you are here, you can see, and you know that I love you; and I will
+be your servant. I never knew about you before, or I would have done it
+before. Now I do. Please to teach me, for I do not know anything, that
+I may do everything that pleases you. I will not do anything that don't
+please you. Amen."
+
+Dolly waited a moment, then turned and put her arms round her aunt's
+neck and kissed her. "Thank you!"--she said earnestly; and then lay
+down and arranged herself to sleep.
+
+Mrs. Eberstein went downstairs and astonished her husband by a burst of
+hysterical weeping. He made anxious enquiries; and at last received an
+account of the last half-hour.
+
+"But, oh, Edward, what do you think?" she concluded. "Did you ever hear
+anything like that in your life? Do you think it can be genuine?"
+
+"Genuine what?" demanded her husband.
+
+"Why, I mean, can it be true religious conversion? This child knows
+next to nothing; just that Jesus died out of love to her, to save
+her,--nothing more."
+
+"And she has given her love back. Very logical and reasonable; and
+ought not to be so uncommon."
+
+"But it is uncommon, Edward. At least, people generally make a longer
+business of it."
+
+"In which they do not show their wisdom."
+
+"No; but they do it. Edward, can it be that this child is so suddenly a
+Christian? Will it stand?"
+
+"Only time can show that. But Harry, all the cases,--almost all the
+cases reported in the New Testament are cases of sudden yielding. Just
+look at it. John and Andrew took but a couple of hours or so to make up
+their minds. Nathanael did not apparently take more than two minutes
+after he saw Christ. Lydia became a Christian at her first hearing the
+good news; the eunuch made up his mind as quick. Why should not little
+Dolly? The trouble is caused only by people's obstinate resistance."
+
+"Then you think it may be true work?"
+
+"Of course I think so. This child is not an ordinary child, there is
+that to be said."
+
+"No," said Mrs. Eberstein thoughtfully. "Is she not peculiar? She is
+such a child; and yet there is such a wise, deep look in her brown
+eyes. What pretty eyes they are! There is the oddest mixture of old and
+young in her I ever saw. She is going to be lovely, Edward!"
+
+"I think she is lovely now."
+
+"Oh yes! but I mean, when she grows up. She will be very lovely, with
+those spiritual eyes and that loose curly brown hair; if only she can
+be kept as she is now."
+
+"My dear, she cannot be that!"
+
+"Oh, you know what I mean, Edward. If she can be kept unspoiled;
+untainted; unsophisticated; with that sort of mixture of wisdom and
+simplicity which she has now. I wish we need not send her to school."
+
+"We have no choice about that. And the Lord can keep His own. Let us
+ask Him."
+
+They knelt and did so; with some warm tears on Mrs. Eberstein's part,
+and great and warm earnestness in them both.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+CHRISTINA AND HER MOTHER.
+
+Mrs. Eberstein watched during the next few days, to see, if she could,
+whether the sudden resolve taking on Dolly's part that first evening
+"meant anything," as she expressed it, or not. She remained in doubt.
+Dolly was thoughtful certainly, and sweet certainly; "but that don't
+tell," Mrs. Eberstein remarked; "it is her characteristic." It was
+equally certain that she had attached herself with a trustful, clinging
+affection to the new friends whose house and hearts had received her.
+Dolly's confidence was given to them fully and heartily from that very
+first day; and they saw that it was.
+
+Nearly a week passed before the school-term began. Meanwhile Dolly was
+taken about, in walks and drives, to see all that her friends thought
+would interest her. Everything interested her, they found; and upon
+every subject presented to her, her little head went to work; the
+result of which was the putting of a question now and then, which
+afforded her guardians, perhaps, as much entertainment as the ground of
+the question had given Dolly. These questions, however, were called
+forth most of all by the subject which had seized hold of Dolly's mind
+with such force that first evening. Mrs. Eberstein had not forgotten
+her promise about the Bible. One of the first expeditions undertaken
+the next day had been in search of one; successful, in the judgment of
+both Dolly and her aunt; and since then the book was very often to be
+seen in Dolly's hands.
+
+"What are you reading there, Dolly?" Mr. Eberstein asked, corning in
+one evening just before dinner. Dolly was on a low seat at the corner
+of the fireplace, reading by the shine of a fire of Liverpool coal,
+which threw warm lights all over the little figure. She looked up and
+said it was her Bible she was studying.
+
+"You will put out your eyes."
+
+"Oh no, Uncle Edward; the print is so good, and the fire makes such a
+nice blaze, I can see perfectly."
+
+"And pray, what are you looking for, or what are you finding, in that
+book, little one?"
+
+"I am looking for a great deal,--and I am finding a little," was
+Dolly's reply.
+
+"Different with me," said Mr. Eberstein with a short laugh. "I
+generally find more in the Bible than I look for."
+
+"What do you look for in it?" said Dolly, raising her head which had
+gone down to the reading.
+
+Mr. Eberstein laughed again.
+
+"Truly, Dolly," he said, "you have hit me there! I believe I often open
+the Bible without looking for anything in particular."
+
+"Perhaps that makes the difference," said Dolly, letting her eyes fall
+again to her page.
+
+"Perhaps it does; but, Dolly, I should very much like to know what you
+are looking for?"
+
+"I am looking to find out the will of God, Uncle Edward."
+
+"Come here, my pet," said Mr. Eberstein, coaxing the little girl into
+his arms and setting her on his knee. "What do you want to find out the
+will of God for? what about?"
+
+"About me."
+
+"What do you want to know the will of God about you for?"
+
+"I want to do it, Uncle Edward."
+
+"There couldn't be a better reason. Jesus says, 'He that hath My
+commandments, and keepeth them, he it is that loveth Me.' Do you find
+what you seek?"
+
+"I find some," said Dolly.
+
+"Where were you reading just now?"
+
+"About Abraham."
+
+"Abraham! What do you find in Abraham's life, may I ask, that tells you
+the will of God about Dolly Copley? You are not called upon to leave
+your country and go out into a strange land."
+
+"No; not that. But God said to Abraham, 'Walk before Me, and be thou
+perfect.' And it puzzles me."
+
+"What puzzles you?"
+
+"I don't see how I can 'walk before Him.'"
+
+"Dolly,--the Lord is here, here where we are, wherever we are."
+
+"Yes. I know that."
+
+"Then, if you know that and remember it, and do everything you do in
+His presence, and feeling that it is in His presence, you will be
+walking before Him; don't you see? Just as if Jesus were here again
+upon earth, and you were always with Him; only you do not see Him now.
+He sees you."
+
+"And 'be perfect'?" said Dolly questioningly.
+
+"Yes. That means, I think, don't try to serve two masters. If you love
+God with all your heart, and give Him your whole life and service,--not
+a part of it,--that is what the word to Abraham means, I think. A
+servant of God is a perfect servant, if he does all the will of God
+that he knows, and as fast as he knows it. But you cannot do that of
+yourself, little Dolly."
+
+"Why cannot I, if I want to?"
+
+"Why, because there come temptations, and there come difficulties; and
+you will want to do something you like, and not what God likes; and you
+will do it too, unless the Lord Jesus keeps fast hold of you and saves
+you from making such a mistake. Only He can."
+
+"Can He?"
+
+"Certainly He can."
+
+"Will He?"
+
+"If you want Him to do it, and trust Him to do it, He will. He will
+just do all that you trust Him to do."
+
+Dolly pondered. "Will He do that because He loves me?" she asked.
+
+"Just for that reason, Dolly."
+
+"Then He will do it," said Dolly confidently; "for I will trust Him.
+Won't you show me where he says that, Uncle Edward?"
+
+Mr. Eberstein told Dolly to find Matt. xxi. 21. Dolly read eagerly--
+
+"Jesus answered and said unto them, Verily I say unto you, If ye have
+faith, and doubt not, ye shall not only do this which is done to the
+fig-tree, but also if ye shall say unto this mountain, Be thou removed,
+and be thou cast into the sea, it shall be done. And all things
+whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer, believing, ye shall receive."
+
+Dolly read to herself, then looked up, eager and confident, for the
+next reference.
+
+"Turn to John xv. 7."
+
+Again Dolly found and read, in silence--
+
+"If ye abide in Me, and My words abide in you, ye shall ask what ye
+will, and it shall be done unto you."
+
+"What next, Uncle Edward?"
+
+"Isn't that promise enough?"
+
+"Yes; but I thought you had more."
+
+"There is a great deal more. Look out Thessalonians v. 23, 24."
+
+Dolly read, slowly, aloud now--
+
+"'And the very God of peace sanctify you wholly; and I pray God your
+whole spirit and soul and body be preserved blameless unto the coming
+of our Lord Jesus Christ. Faithful is He that calleth you, who also
+will do it.' That is beautiful, Uncle Edward!"
+
+"Do you want another? Find Jude, and read the 24th and 25th verses."
+
+With some trouble Dolly found it.
+
+"'Now unto Him that is able to keep you from falling, and to present
+you faultless before the presence of His glory with exceeding joy, to
+the only wise God our Saviour, be glory and majesty, dominion and
+power, both now and ever. Amen.'"
+
+Dolly slipped off Mr. Eberstein's knee and retook her old place by the
+fire; where she sat turning from one passage to another of those she
+had been reading. Mr. Eberstein watched her, how the ribbon markers of
+the Bible were carefully laid in two of the places, and a couple of
+neat slips of paper prepared for the others.
+
+"What have you been doing to-day, Dolly?" he asked at length.
+
+"We went to see the water works."
+
+"Oh, you did! And what did you think of the water works?"
+
+"We went up to the top and walked about. Do the people in Philadelphia
+want so much water as all that?"
+
+"They want a great deal more. The Fairmount works give only enough for
+part of the city."
+
+"That is taking a great deal of trouble to get water."
+
+"It would be worse trouble to do without it."
+
+"But why don't people all live in the country, as we do at home? then
+they would have water for nothing."
+
+"Humph! That would answer, Dolly, if people were contented with water;
+they all want wine. I mean, my child, that most people are not
+satisfied with simple doings; and for anything more they must have
+money; and they can make money faster in cities. Therefore they build
+cities."
+
+"Is _that_ what they build cities for?" said Dolly.
+
+"Largely. Not altogether. A great many things can be better done where
+people are congregated together; it is for the convenience of trade and
+business, in many kinds and in many ways. What have you been doing
+since you came home from the water works?"
+
+"O Uncle Edward!" said Dolly, suddenly rising now and coming to him,
+"Aunt Harry has opened for me her old bookcase!"
+
+"What old bookcase? I didn't know she had an old bookcase."
+
+"Oh yes; the one where she keeps the books she had when she was as old
+as I am."
+
+"And as young, eh? Well, what is in that bookcase? is it a great find?"
+
+"O Uncle Edward, there is a great deal in it! It is wonderful. Books I
+never saw, and they look so interesting!"
+
+"What, for instance? Something to rival Plutarch's Lives?"
+
+"I don't know," said Dolly; "you know I have not read them yet. There
+is 'Sandford and Merton;' I was reading in that, and I like it very
+much; and the 'Looking Glass' is another; and 'Rosamond' I am sure is
+interesting. Oh there is a whole load of them."
+
+
+"Well I am glad of it," said Mr. Eberstein. "That is the right sort of
+stuff for your busy little brain; will not weigh too heavy. Now I
+suppose you will be reading all the time you are in the house."
+
+"Aunt Harry has begun to teach me to knit."
+
+"Very good," said Mr. Eberstein. "I believe in knitting too. That's
+safe."
+
+They went to dinner, and after dinner there was a further knitting
+lesson, in which Dolly seemed absorbed; nevertheless, before the
+evening was over she brought up a very different subject again.
+
+"Aunt Harry," she began, in the midst of an arduous effort to get the
+loops of wool on her needles in the right relative condition,--"does
+mother know about the Bible?"
+
+"Yes," said Mrs. Eberstein, with a glance at her husband, "she knows
+about it, something."
+
+"Then why did she never tell me anything about it?"
+
+Mrs. Eberstein hesitated.
+
+"I suppose, Dolly, her thoughts were fuller of other things."
+
+"But how _could_ they be?" said the little one, laying her hands with
+their knitting work in her lap, and looking up.
+
+Her aunt did not answer.
+
+"How could her thoughts be fuller of other things, if she knows the
+Bible?" Dolly urged.
+
+"I don't think she really knows much of what is in the Bible," Mrs.
+Eberstein said. "She has never read it much."
+
+"I don't think she knows about Jesus," Dolly went on gravely; "for she
+never told me; and she would if she had known, I think. Aunt Harriet, I
+think _I_ ought to tell _her_ now."
+
+"What would you tell her, my darling?"
+
+"Oh, I will tell her that I know Him and love Him; and I will tell her
+I have got a Bible, and some of the things I have found in it. I will
+ask her to get one too, and read it. I don't believe she knows."
+
+"The reason why a great many people do not know, Dolly, is, as your
+Aunt Harry says, that they are so much taken up with other things."
+
+"Then I think one ought to take care not to be too much taken up with
+other things," said Dolly very seriously.
+
+"But you have got to be taken up with other things," Mr. Eberstein went
+on. "Here you are going to school in a few days; then your head will be
+full of English and French, and your hands full of piano keys and harp
+strings, from morning till night. How are you going to do?"
+
+Dolly looked at the speaker, came and placed herself on his knee again,
+and laid a hand on his shoulder; eyeing him steadily.
+
+"Ought I not to go to school?"
+
+"Must!--else you cannot be the right sort of a woman, and do the right
+sort of work."
+
+"How then, Uncle Edward? what shall I do?"
+
+"I'll tell you one thing, Dolly. Don't study and practise to get ahead
+of somebody else; but to please the King!"
+
+"The King--that is Jesus?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+Dolly nodded, in full agreement with the rule of action as thus stated;
+presently brought forward another idea.
+
+"Will He care? Would it please Him to have me play on the piano, or
+learn French and arithmetic?"
+
+"Dolly, the more you know, and the better you know it, the better
+servant you can be; you will have the more to use for Jesus."
+
+"Can I use such things for Him? How?"
+
+"Many ways. He will show you how. Do you think an ignorant woman could
+do as much in the world as an elegant, well-informed, accomplished
+woman?"
+
+Dolly thought over this question, nodded as one who had come to an
+understanding of it, and went back to her knitting.
+
+"What ever will become of that child," said Mrs. Eberstein an hour or
+two later, when she and her husband were alone. "I am full of anxiety
+about her."
+
+"Then you are taking upon you the part of Providence."
+
+"No, but, Edward, Dolly will have a history."
+
+"So have we all," Mr. Eberstein responded very unresponsively.
+
+"But she will not have a common history. Do you see how open she is to
+receive impressions, and how fast they stay once they are made?"
+
+"I see the first quality. I never saw a creature quicker to take
+impressions or to welcome affections. Whether they will prove as
+lasting as they are sudden,--that we have no means of knowing at
+present."
+
+"I think they will."
+
+"That's a woman's conclusion, founded on her wishes."
+
+"It is a man's conclusion too; for you think the same thing, Edward."
+
+"Don't prove anything, Harry."
+
+"Yes, it does. When two people come to the same independent view of
+something, it is fair to suppose there are grounds for it."
+
+"I hope so. Time will show."
+
+"But, Edward, with this extremely sensitive and affectionate nature,
+how important it is that Dolly should have only the right surroundings,
+and see only the right sort of people."
+
+"Just so. And so she is going out into the world of a large school;
+where she will meet all sorts of people and be subjected to all sorts
+of influences; and you cannot shield her."
+
+"I wish I could keep her at home, and have her taught here! I wish I
+could!"
+
+"Playing Providence again. We all like to do it."
+
+"No, but, Edward, just look at her," said Mrs. Eberstein with her eyes
+full of tears.
+
+"I do," said Mr. Eberstein. "I've got eyes. But you will have to trust
+her, Harry."
+
+"Now she will go, I have no doubt, and write that letter to her mother.
+I wonder if Sally will get scared, and take her away from us?"
+
+"Why, Hal," said her husband, "your self-will is getting up very strong
+to-night! What if? Dolly's future does not depend upon us; though we
+will do what we can for it."
+
+What they did then, was to pray about it again; for these people
+believed in prayer.
+
+The next day Mrs. Eberstein had invited an acquaintance to come to
+dinner. This acquaintance had a daughter, also about to enter Mrs.
+Delancy's school; and Mrs. Eberstein's object was to let the two girls
+become a little known to each other, so that Dolly in the new world she
+was about to enter might not feel everything utterly strange. Mrs.
+Thayer belonged to a good New York family; and it likewise suited her
+purposes to have her daughter received in so unexceptionable a house as
+Mrs. Eberstein's, albeit the young lady was not without other
+Philadelphia friends. So the party fitted together very harmoniously.
+Mrs. Thayer, in spite of her good connections, was no more than a
+commonplace personage. Christina, her daughter, on the other hand,
+showed tokens of becoming a great beauty. A little older than Dolly, of
+larger build and more flesh and blood development generally, and with
+one of those peach-blossom complexions which for fairness and delicacy
+almost rival the flower. Her hair was pretty, her features also pretty,
+her expression placid. Mrs. Eberstein was much struck.
+
+"They are just about of an age," remarked Mrs. Thayer. "I suppose they
+will study the same things. Everybody studies the same things. Well, I
+hope you'll be friends and not rivals, my dears."
+
+"Dolly will not be rivals with anybody," returned Dolly's aunt.
+
+"She don't look very strong. I should think it would not do for her to
+study too hard," said the other lady. "Oh, rivalry is necessary, you
+know, to bring out the spirit of boys and girls and make them work. It
+may be friendly rivalry; but if they were not rivals they would not be
+anything; might as well not be school girls, or school boys. They would
+not do any work but what they liked, and we know what that would amount
+to. I don't know about beating learning into boys; some people say that
+is the way; but with girls you can't take that way; and all you have to
+fall back upon is emulation."
+
+"Very few young people will study for the love of it," Mrs. Eberstein
+so far assented.
+
+"They might, I believe, if the right way was taken," Mr. Eberstein
+remarked.
+
+"Emulation will do it, if a girl has any spirit," said Mrs. Thayer.
+
+"What sort of spirit?"
+
+"What sort of spirit! Why, the spirit not to let themselves be outdone;
+to stand as high as anybody, and higher; be No. 1, and carry off the
+first honours. A spirited girl don't like to be No. 2. Christina will
+never be No. 2."
+
+"Is it quite certain that such a spirit is the one to be cultivated?"
+
+"It makes them study,"--said Mrs. Thayer, looking at her questioner to
+see what he meant.
+
+"What do you think the Bible means, when it tells us not to seek for
+honour?"
+
+"_Not_ to seek for honour?" repeated the lady.
+
+"Not the honour that comes from man."
+
+"I didn't know it forbade it. I never heard that it was forbidden. Why,
+Mr. Eberstein, it is _natural_ to wish for honour. Everybody wishes for
+it."
+
+"So they do," Mr. Eberstein assented. "I might say, so _we_ do."
+
+"It is natural," repeated the lady.
+
+"Its being natural does not prove it to be right."
+
+"Why, Mr. Eberstein, if it is _natural_, we cannot help it."
+
+"How then does trying to be No. 1 agree with the love that 'seeketh not
+her own'?"
+
+Dolly was listening earnestly, Mr. Eberstein saw. Mrs. Thayer
+hesitated, in some inward disgust.
+
+"Do you take that literally?" she said then. "How can you take it
+literally? You cannot."
+
+"But Christ pleased not Himself."
+
+"Well, but He was not like us."
+
+"We are bidden to be like him, though."
+
+"Oh, as far as we can. But you cannot press those words literally, Mr.
+Eberstein."
+
+"As far as we can? I _must_ press them, for the Bible does. I ask no
+more, and the Lord demands no more, than that we be like our Master _as
+far as we can_. And He 'pleased not himself,' and 'received not honour
+from men.'"
+
+"If you were to preach such doctrine in schools, I am afraid you would
+have very bad recitations."
+
+"Well!" said Mr. Eberstein. "Better bad recitations than bad hearts.
+Though really there is no necessary connection between my premises and
+your conclusion. The Bible reckons 'emulations,' Mrs. Thayer, in the
+list of the worst things human nature knows, and does."
+
+"Then you would have a set of dunces. I should just like to be told,
+Mr. Eberstein, how on that principle you would get young people to
+study. In the case of girls you cannot do it by beating; nor in the
+case of boys, after they have got beyond being little boys. Then
+emulation comes in, and they work like beavers to get the start of one
+another. And so we have honours, and prizes, and distinctions. Take all
+that away, and how would you do, Mr. Eberstein?"
+
+Mr. Eberstein was looking fondly into a pair of young eyes that were
+fixedly gazing at him. So looking, he spoke,
+
+"There is another sort of '_Well done!_' which I would like my Dolly
+and Miss Christina to try for. If they are in earnest in trying for
+that, they will study!" said Mr. Eberstein.
+
+Mrs. Thayer thought, apparently, that it was no use talking on the
+subject with a visionary man; and she turned to something else. The
+party left the dinner-table, and Dolly took her new acquaintance
+upstairs to show her the treasure contained in Mrs. Eberstein's old
+bookcase.
+
+"Mr. Eberstein is rather a strange man, isn't he?" said Miss Christina
+on the way.
+
+"No," said Dolly. "I don't think he is. What makes you say so?"
+
+"I never heard any one talk like that before."
+
+"Perhaps," said Dolly, stopping short on the landing place and looking
+at her companion. Then she seemed to change her manner of attack. "Who
+do you want to please most?" she said.
+
+"With my studies? Why, mamma, of course."
+
+"I would rather please the Lord Jesus," said Dolly.
+
+"But I was talking about _school work_," retorted the other. "You don't
+suppose _He_ cares about our lessons?"
+
+"I guess He does," said Dolly. They were still standing on the landing
+place, looking into each other's eyes.
+
+"But that's impossible. Think!--French lessons, and English lessons,
+and music and dancing, and all of it. That couldn't be, you know."
+
+"Do you love Jesus?" said Dolly.
+
+"Love him? I do not know," said Christina colouring. "I am a member of
+the church, if that is what you mean."
+
+Dolly began slowly to go up the remaining stairs. "I think we ought to
+study to please Him," she said.
+
+"I don't see how it should please him," said the other a little out of
+humour. "I don't see how He should care about such little things."
+
+"Why not?" said Dolly. "If your mother cares, and my mother cares.
+Jesus loves us better than they do, and I guess He cares more than they
+do."
+
+Christina was silenced now, as her mother had been, and followed Dolly
+thinking there were a _pair_ of uncomfortably strange people in the
+house. The next minute Dolly was not strange at all, but as much a
+child as any of her fellows. She had unlocked the precious bookcase,
+and with the zeal of a connoisseur and the glee of a discoverer she was
+enlarging upon the treasures therein stowed away.
+
+"Here is 'Henry Milner,'" she said, taking down three little red
+volumes. "Have you read that? Oh, it is delightful! I like it almost
+best of all. But I have not had time to read much yet. Here is 'Harry
+and Lucy,' and 'Rosamond,' and 'Frank.' I have just looked at them. And
+'Sandford and Merton.' do you know 'Sandford and Merton'? I have just
+read that."
+
+"There are the 'Arabian Nights,'" said Christina.
+
+"Is that good? I haven't read much yet. I don't know almost any of
+them."
+
+"'The Looking-Glass'"--Christina went on--"'Pity's Gift'--'Father's
+Tales.'"
+
+"Those are beautiful," Dolly put in. "I read one, about 'Grandfather's
+old arm-chair.' Oh, it's _very_ interesting."
+
+"'Elements of Morality'"--Christina read further on the back of a
+brown book.
+
+"That don't sound good, but I guess it _is_ good," said Dolly. "I just
+peeped in, and 'Evenings at Home' looks pretty. Here is 'Robinson
+Crusoe,' and 'Northern Regions;' I want to read that very much. I guess
+it's delightful."
+
+"Have you ever been to school before?" said Christina. The books had a
+faint interest for her.
+
+"No," said Dolly.
+
+"Nor have I; but I know somebody who has been at Mrs. Delancy's, and
+she says there is one lovely thing at that school. Every month they go
+somewhere."
+
+"They--go--somewhere," Dolly echoed the words. "Who go?"
+
+"Everybody; teachers and scholars and all. There is a holiday; and Mrs.
+Delancy takes them all to see something. One time it was a rope walk, I
+think; and another time it was a paper-mill; and sometimes it's a
+picture-gallery. It's something very interesting."
+
+"I suppose we are not _obliged_ to go, are we, if we don't want to?"
+
+"Oh, but we _do_ want to. I do."
+
+"I would just as lief be at home with my Aunt Harry," said Dolly,
+looking lovingly at the book-case. But Christina turned away from it.
+
+"They dress a great deal at this school," she said. "Does your mother
+dress you a great deal?"
+
+"I don't know," said Dolly. "I don't know what you mean."
+
+"Well, what's your school dress? what is it made of?"
+
+"My school dress for every day! It is grey poplin. It is not new."
+
+"Poplin will do, I suppose," said Christina. "But some of the girls
+wear silk; old silk dresses, you know, but really handsome still, and
+very stylish."
+
+"What do you mean by 'stylish'?" said Dolly.
+
+"Why don't you know what 'stylish' means?"
+
+"No."
+
+Christina looked doubtfully at her new little companion. Where could
+Dolly have come from, and what sort of people could she belong to, who
+did not know _that?_ The truth was, that Dolly being an only child and
+living at home with her father and mother, had led a very childish life
+up to this time; and her mother, owing to some invalidism, had lately
+been withdrawn from the gay world and its doings. So, though the thing
+was greatly upon her mother's heart, the word had never made itself
+familiar to Dolly's ear. Christina was reassured, however, by observing
+that the little girl's dress was quite what it ought to be, and
+certainly bespoke her as belonging to people who "knew what was what."
+So the practice was all right, and Dolly needed only instruction in the
+theory.
+
+"'Stylish,'"--she repeated. "It means--It is very hard to tell you
+what it means. Don't you know? 'Stylish' means that things have an air
+that belongs to the right kind of thing, and only what you see in a
+certain sort of people. It is the way things look when people know how."
+
+"Know how, what?" inquired Dolly.
+
+"Know how things ought to be; how they ought to be worn, and how they
+ought to be done."
+
+"Then everybody ought to be stylish," said Dolly.
+
+"Yes, but you cannot, my dear, unless you happen to know how."
+
+"But I should think one could always know how things ought to be,"
+Dolly went on. "The Bible tells."
+
+"The Bible!" echoed Christina.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"The Bible tell one how to be stylish!"
+
+"The Bible tells how things ought to be."
+
+"Why, no, it don't, child! the Bible don't tell you what sort of a hat
+to put on."
+
+"Yes, it does, Christina. The Bible says, 'Whether you eat or drink, or
+whatsoever you do, do all to the glory of God.' I can show you the
+words."
+
+"Oh, that is something quite different. That has nothing to do with
+being stylish. How shall I make you understand? If your cravat wasn't
+tied in a nice bow there, it wouldn't be stylish."
+
+"Well," returned Dolly, "it wouldn't be to the glory of God either."
+
+"What has that to do with it?"
+
+"I think it would be wrong for a Christian to be anything but nice."
+
+"Oh, it isn't being _nice!_" said Christina. "Your dress wouldn't be
+stylish if it hadn't those flounces."
+
+"And is it now?"
+
+"Yes--I think it is. I should say, your mother knows what is what. It
+isn't very easy to be stylish if you are poor; but I've seen people do
+it, though."
+
+"I don't think I understand, quite," said Dolly. "But when I am old
+enough to dress myself,--to choose my own dresses, I mean, I shall
+dress to please Jesus, Christina."
+
+"You can't," said Christina. "I never heard of such a thing. It's
+making religion little, I think, to talk so."
+
+"I think, if religion isn't little, it'll _do_ so," answered Dolly.
+Whereby each kept her own opinion; notwithstanding which, at the end of
+the afternoon they separated, mutually pleased each with her new
+acquaintance.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE MARINE DICTIONARY.
+
+As the weeks of the first school term went on, the two girls drew
+nearer to each other. Everybody inclined towards Dolly indeed; the
+sweet, fresh, honest little face, with the kindly affections beaming
+forth from it, and the sensitive nature quick to feel pleasure or pain,
+and alive to fun in the midst of its seriousness, made such a quaint
+mingling and such a curious variety and such a lovely creature, that
+all sorts of characters were drawn towards her. From the head of the
+school down, teachers and pupils, there was hardly one whose eye did
+not soften and whose lips did not smile at Dolly's approach. With
+Christina, on the other hand, it was not just so. She was not
+particularly clever, not particularly emotional, not specially
+sociable; calm and somewhat impassive, with all her fair beauty she was
+overlooked in the practical "selection" which takes place in school
+life; so that little Dolly after all came to be Christina's best
+friend. Dolly never passed her over; was never unsympathetic; never
+seemed to know her own popularity; and Christina's slow liking grew
+into a real and warm affection as the passing days gave her more and
+more occasion. In the matter of "style," it appears, Dolly had enough
+to satisfy her; thanks to her mother; for Dolly herself was as
+unconventional in spirit and manner as a child should be. In school
+work proper, on the other hand, she was a pattern of diligence and
+faithfulness; gave her teachers no trouble; of course had the good word
+and good will of every one of them. Was it the working of Mr.
+Eberstein's rule?
+
+The first monthly holiday after school began was spent in Fairmount
+Park. A few weeks later, Dolly and Christina were sitting together one
+day, busy with some fancy work, when one of their schoolmates came up
+to them.
+
+"Guess where we are going next week!" she cried.
+
+"Next week?" said the others, looking up.
+
+"Next holiday--next week--next Saturday. Yes. Where do you think we are
+going? Just guess. Oh, you can't guess."
+
+"I can't guess," said Dolly; "I don't know what there is to go to. The
+Mint? Mrs. Delancy did speak of the Mint."
+
+"Not a bit of it! Something else has come up. Guess again."
+
+"Something has _come up_. Then it must be something new."
+
+"It isn't new, either. Can't a thing come to you that isn't new?"
+
+"But you're talking riddles, Eudora," the other two said, laughing.
+
+"Well, I'll tell you. There's a man-of-war come up the river."
+
+"A man-of-war"--Dolly repeated.
+
+"You know what that means, I hope, Dolly Copley?"
+
+"I don't know. It means a soldier. The Bible says, Goliath was a
+man-of-war from his youth."
+
+Dolly as she spoke looked mystified, and her words were met by a shout
+of laughter so loud and ringing that it almost abashed the child. Some
+other girls had joined the group and were standing around, and there
+were many to laugh. However, Dolly was never given to false shame. She
+waited for more light.
+
+"It's a _ship_, Dolly," they cried. "You dear little innocent, don't
+you know as much as that?"
+
+"It's a ship; and this is a big one. It is lying out in the Delaware."
+
+"Then why is it called a man-of-war?" said Dolly.
+
+"Because it is a war ship. Won't it be fun! just think!--the guns, and
+the officers, and the midshipmen!"
+
+"What are midshipmen?"
+
+"I don't know!" cried another. "They are somebodies that are always on
+a man-of-war; and they are young too. Baby officers, I suppose."
+
+"They _are_ officers," said the first speaker.
+
+"No, they're not. They are learning to be officers. They're at school,
+and their school is a man-of-war; and their teachers are the captain,
+and the lieutenants, and so on."
+
+"And what are their lessons about?" said Dolly.
+
+"_I_ don't know. Oh, they are learning to be officers, you know. Really
+they are boys at school."
+
+"Some of them are old enough," remarked another.
+
+"Learning _what_, Eudora?" said Dolly.
+
+"How do I know, chicken? I've never been a midshipman myself. You can
+ask them if you like, when we go on board. For we are going on board,
+girls! Hurrah! We shall drive over to the Navy Yard, and there we shall
+get into boats, and then we shall row--I mean be rowed--out into the
+stream to the ship. It's a big frigate, the 'Achilles;' and Mrs.
+Delancy knows the captain; and she says it's a good chance, and she
+will not have us lose it. Hurrah, girls! this is prime."
+
+"What's a _frigate?_" was Dolly's next question.
+
+"Dolly Copley, you are ridiculous! you want to understand everything."
+
+"Don't you?"
+
+"No! I guess I don't. I am tired enough with trying to understand a
+little. I'll let alone what I can. You'll know what a frigate is when
+you have been on board of her."
+
+"But I think I should enjoy it a great deal more if I knew beforehand,"
+said Dolly.
+
+"You had best study a ship's dictionary. _I_ am going to study what I
+shall wear."
+
+"That you cannot tell yet," Christina remarked. "You do not know what
+sort of a day next Saturday, I mean, Saturday week, will be. It may be
+cold or"----
+
+"It mayn't be hot," said the other. "It will be cold, cold enough. It's
+November. You can wear your prettiest winter things, young ladies."
+
+A little while after, the group had broken up, and Dolly sought out one
+of the teachers and begged to know where she could find a "ship's
+dictionary."
+
+"A ship dictionary? My dear, there is no such thing. What do you want
+to find out?"
+
+"One of the girls said I could find out about ships in a ship's
+dictionary. We are going to see a man-of-war next week."
+
+"Oh, and you want to study up the subject? It is a Marine Dictionary
+you are in quest of. Come to the library."
+
+The library was always open to the girls for study purposes. The
+teacher was good-natured, and got out a big, brown square volume, and
+put it in Dolly's hand. Dolly had been followed by Christina; and now
+the two sat down together in a window recess on the floor, with the
+book before them. Dolly began at the beginning, and aloud.
+
+"'_Aback_.'"
+
+"That is nothing we want," remarked Christina.
+
+"Oh yes, I think it is. It is 'the situation of the sails when their
+surfaces are flatted against the masts by the force of the wind.' I do
+not understand, though. The sails are said to be 'taken aback.'-- Oh, I
+have heard mother say that. What could she mean? I have heard her say
+she was taken aback."
+
+"I have heard people say that too," said Christina; "often. I never
+knew what they meant. Something disagreeable, I think."
+
+"Well, you see," said Dolly, reading further, "it 'pushes the ship
+_astern_'--what's that? 'See _Backing_.' I suppose it means pushing it
+back. But I don't understand!" the little girl added with a sigh.
+
+"Oh, well! we don't care about all that," said Dolly's companion. "Go
+on to something else. Find out about the midshipmen."
+
+"What about the midshipmen?"
+
+"Nothing,--only I would like to know what they are. Madeleine said they
+were young officers; very young; not older than some of us."
+
+"Then why do you want to know about them?" said Dolly. "We have nothing
+to do with young officers. We don't know any of them."
+
+"But we might," suggested Christina. "We shall see them, if we go on
+board the ship."
+
+"I don't care about seeing them," said Dolly. "Young officers are young
+men, I suppose. I understand _them;_ what I don't know about, is the
+ship. Let us go on in this book, and see what we come to. '_Abaft_--the
+hinder part of a ship'"----
+
+"O Dolly!" cried Christina, "we have not time to go through everything
+in this way. You have not turned over one leaf yet  Do get on a little."
+
+"It is good it's a holiday," said Dolly, turning the leaf. "We have
+plenty of time. I like this book. '_Aboard_,--the inside of a ship.' So
+when we go into the ship, we go aboard. That's it."
+
+"Go on," urged Christina. "Here's '_Admiral_.'"
+
+"'An officer of first rank and command in the fleet.' There is a great
+deal here about the Admiral. I don't believe we shall see him. We'll
+look a little further."
+
+Dolly presently was caught by the word "_Anchor_," and lost herself in
+the study of the paragraphs following, and the plate accompanying;
+after which she declared that she understood how a ship could be held
+by its anchor. Urged to go on again, she turned over more leaves, but
+got lost in the study of "_boats;_" then of "_cannon;_" then of the
+"_captain_'s" office and duties; finally paused at the plate and
+description of a ship's deck.
+
+"It's just the deck of a ship!" said Christina impatiently. "You will
+see it when we go on board the 'Achilles.'"
+
+"I want to understand it."
+
+"You can't."
+
+"Are those guns?" said Dolly, pointing to a row of pieces delineated
+along the side of the deck.
+
+"Must be guns."
+
+"Well, I should like to go on board of a ship very much," said Dolly.
+"There are twelve guns on that side. If there are the same on this
+side, that would make twenty-four. What do they want so many for,
+Christina, on one ship?"
+
+"Why, to fight with, of course. To fire at other ships."
+
+"But what do they want of _so many?_ They would not want to fire twelve
+at once. I should think one would be enough."
+
+"Perhaps it wouldn't. Go on, Dolly, do! let us get to something else."
+
+It was difficult to get Dolly on. She was held fast again by the
+description of a naval engagement; then fell to studying the directions
+for the "_exercise_" of the guns; then was interested in some plates
+giving various orders of the line of battle. At last in due course they
+came to the word "_Midshipman_," which was read, or the article under
+it, by both girls.
+
+"'A naval cadet'"--repeated Christina.
+
+"And a cadet must be four years at sea before he can become a
+lieutenant; and two years midshipman besides. I should think they would
+be tired of it."
+
+"But if they are going to be sailors all their lives, it's no use for
+them to get tired of it," said Christina.
+
+"They come on shore sometimes, don't they?"
+
+"I suppose so. Oh yes, they have houses, I know, and wives and
+children. I shouldn't like to be the wife of a sailor!"
+
+"Somebody must, I suppose," said Dolly. "But I shouldn't like to have
+my home--my principal home, I mean--on the sea; if I was a man. _They_
+must like it, I suppose."
+
+Dolly went on reading.
+
+"The midshipmen have plenty to do, Christina. They have to learn how to
+do everything a common sailor does; all the work of the ship; and then
+they must learn astronomy, and geometry, and navigation and mechanics.
+Hydrostatics, too; oh dear, I don't know what that is. I can look it
+out, I suppose. The midshipmen must be very busy, Christina, and at
+hard work too."
+
+Christina's interest in the Marine Dictionary was exhausted. She went
+off; but Dolly pored over its pages still, endeavouring to take in
+details about vessels, and ropes, and sails, and winds, until her head
+was in a fog. She recurred to the book, however, on the next
+opportunity; and from time to time, as her lessons permitted, gave her
+time and attention to this seemingly very unnecessary subject. How much
+she really learned, is doubtful; yet as little things do touch and link
+themselves with great things, it may be that the old Marine Dictionary
+in Mrs. Delancy's library played a not insignificant part in the
+fortunes of Dolly Copley. As we shall see. She studied, till a ship
+became a romance to her; till rigging and spars and decks and guns were
+like the furniture of a new and strange life, which hardly belonged to
+the earth, being upon the sea; and the men who lived that life, and
+especially the men who ruled in it, grew to be invested with
+characteristics of power and skill and energy which gave them fabulous
+interest in Dolly's eyes.
+
+At home there had been a little scruple about letting Dolly join the
+party. She had had a cold, and was rather delicate at all times. The
+scruples, however, gave way before the child's earnest wish; and as
+Saturday of the particular week turned out mild and quiet, no hindrance
+was put in the way of the expedition.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+THE "ACHILLES."
+
+It was a very special delectation which the school were to enjoy
+to-day. The girls thought it always "fun," of course, to quit lessons
+and go to see anything; "even factories," as one of the girls expressed
+it, to Dolly's untold astonishment; for it seemed to her that to be
+allowed to look into the mystery of manufactures must be the next thing
+to taking part personally in a fairy tale. However, to-day it was not a
+question of manufactures, but of a finished and furnished big ship, and
+not only finished and furnished, but manned. "_This_ is something
+lively," Eudora opined. And she was quite right.
+
+The day was a quiet day in November, with just a spice of frost in it;
+the air itself was lively, quick and quickening. The party were driven
+to the Navy Yard in carriages, and there received very politely by the
+officers, some of whom knew Mrs. Delancy and lent themselves with much
+kindness to the undertaking. The girls were more or less excited with
+pleasure and anticipation; but to Dolly the Navy Yard seemed to be
+already touching the borders of that mysterious and fascinating sea
+life in which her fancy had lately been roaming. So when the girls were
+all carefully bestowed in stout little row boats to go out to the ship,
+Dolly's foot it was which stepped upon enchanted boards, and her eye
+that saw an enchanted world around her. What a field was this rippling
+water, crisped with the light breeze, and gurgling under the boat's
+smooth sweep ahead! How the oars rose and fell, all together, as if
+moved by only one hand. Was this a part of the order and discipline of
+which she had read lately, as belonging to this strange world?
+Probably; for now and then a command was issued to the oarsmen, curt
+and sharp; and obeyed, Dolly saw, although she did not know what the
+command meant. Yes, she was in an enchanted sphere; and she looked at
+the "Achilles" as they drew nearer, with profoundest admiration. Its
+great hulk grew large upon her view, with an absolute haze of romance
+and mystery hanging about its decks and rigging. It was a large ship,
+finely equipped, according to the fashion of naval armament which was
+prevalent in those days; she was a three-decker; and the port holes of
+her guns looked in threatening ranks along the sides of the vessel.
+Still and majestic she lay upon the quiet river; a very wonderful
+floating home indeed, and unlike all else she had ever known, to
+Dolly's apprehension. How she and the rest were ever to get on board
+was an insoluble problem to her, as to most of them; and the chair that
+was presently lowered along the ship's side to receive them, seemed a
+very precarious sort of means of transport. However, the getting aboard
+was safely accomplished; one by one they were hoisted up; and Dolly's
+feet stood upon the great main deck. And the first view was perfectly
+satisfactory, and even went far beyond her imaginings. She found
+herself standing under a mixed confusion of masts and spars and sails,
+marvellous to behold, which yet she also saw was no confusion at all,
+but complicated and systematic order. How much those midshipmen must
+have to learn, though, if they were to know the names and uses and
+handling of every spar and every rope and each sail among them! as
+Dolly knew they must. Her eye came back to the deck. What order there
+too; what neatness; why it was beautiful; and the uniforms here and
+there, and the sailors' hats and jackets, filled up the picture to her
+heart's desire. Dolly breathed a full breath of satisfaction.
+
+The Captain of the "Achilles" made his appearance, Captain Barbour. He
+was a thick-set, grizzly haired man, rather short, not handsome at all;
+and yet with an air of authority unmistakably clothing him like a
+garment of power and dignity. Plainly this man's word was law, and the
+girls stood in awe of him. He was known to Mrs. Delancy; and now she
+went on to present formally all her young people to him. The captain
+returned the courtesy by calling up and introducing to her and them
+some of his officers; and then they went to a review of the ship.
+
+It took a long while. Between Mrs. Delancy and Captain Barbour a lively
+conversation was carried on; Dolly thought he was explaining things to
+the lady that she did not understand; but though it might be the case
+now and then, I think the talk moved mainly upon less technical
+matters. Dolly could not get near enough to hear what it was, at any
+rate. The young lieutenants, too, were taken up with playing the host
+to the older young ladies of the party. If _they_ received instruction
+also by the way, Dolly could not tell; the laughing hardly looked like
+it. She and the other young ones at any rate followed humbly at the
+tail of everything, and just came up to a clear view of some detail
+when the others were moving away. There was nobody to help Dolly
+understand anything; nevertheless, she wandered in a fairy vision of
+wonderland. Into the cabins, down to the forecastle, down to the gun
+deck. What could equal the black strangeness of _that_ view! and what
+could it all mean? Dolly wished for her Uncle Edward, or some one, to
+answer a thousand questions. She had been reading about the guns, she
+looked curiously now at the realities, of which she had studied the
+pictures; recognised here a detail and there a detail, but remaining
+hugely ignorant of the whole and of the bearing of the several parts
+upon each other. Yet she did not know how time flew; she did not know
+that she was getting tired; from one strange thing to another she
+followed her leaders about; very much alone indeed, for even the other
+girls of her own age were staring at a different class of objects, and
+could hardly be said to see what she saw, much less were ready to ask
+what she wanted to ask. Dolly went round in a confused dream.
+
+At last the party had gone everywhere that such a party could go;
+Captain Barbour had spared them the lower gun deck. They came back to
+the captain's cabin, where a very pleasant lunch was served to the
+ladies. It was served, that is, to those who could get it, to those who
+were near enough and old enough to put in a claim by right of
+appearance. Dolly and one or two more who were undeniably little girls
+stood a bad chance, hanging about on the outskirts of the crowd, for
+the cabin would not take them all in; and hearing a distant sound of
+clinking glass and silver and words of refreshment. It was all they
+seemed likely to get; and when a kindly elderly officer had taken pity
+on the child and given Dolly a biscuit, she concluded to resign the
+rest of the unattainable luncheon and make the most of her other
+opportunities while she had them. Eating the biscuit, which she was
+very glad of, she wandered off by herself, along the deck; looking
+again carefully at all she saw; for her eyes were greedy of seeing.
+Sails,--what strange shapes; and how close rolled up some of them were!
+Ropes,--what a multitude; and cables. Coils of them on deck; and if she
+looked up, an endless tracery of lines seen against the blue sky. There
+was a sailor going up something like a rope ladder; going up and up;
+how could he? and how far could he go? Dolly almost grew dizzy gazing
+at him.
+
+"What are you looking after, little one?" a voice near her asked. An
+unceremonious address, certainly; frankly put; but the voice was not
+unkindly or uncivil, and Dolly was not sensitive on the point of
+personal dignity. She brought her eyes down for a moment far enough to
+see the shimmer of gold lace on a midshipman's cap, and answered,
+
+"I am looking at that man. He's going up and up, to the top of
+everything. I should think his head would turn."
+
+"Yours will, if you look after him with your head in that position."
+
+Dolly let her eyes come now to the speaker's face. One of the young
+midshipmen it was, standing near her, with his arms folded and leaning
+upon something which served as a support to them, and looking down at
+Dolly. For standing so and leaning over, he was still a good deal
+taller than she. Further, Dolly observed a pair of level brows, beneath
+them a pair of wise-looking, cognisance-taking blue eyes, an expression
+of steady calm, betokening either an even temperament or an habitual
+power of self-control; and just now in the eyes and the mouth there was
+the play almost of a smile somewhat merry, wholly kindly. It took
+Dolly's confidence entirely and at once.
+
+"You don't think you would like to be a sailor?" he went on.
+
+"Is it pleasant?" said Dolly, retorting the question earnestly and
+doubtfully.
+
+The smile broke a little more on the other's face. "How do you like the
+ship?" he asked.
+
+"I do not know," said Dolly, glancing along the deck. "I think it is a
+strange place to live."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"And I don't understand the use of it," Dolly went on with a really
+puzzled face.
+
+"The use of what?"
+
+"The use of the whole thing. I know what ships are good for, of course;
+other ships; but what is the use of such a ship as this?"
+
+"To take care of the other ships."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Have you been below? Did you see the gun decks?"
+
+"I was in a place where there were a great many guns--but I could not
+understand, and there was nobody to tell me things."
+
+"Would you like to go down there again?"
+
+"Oh yes!" said Dolly. "They will be a good while at lunch yet. Oh,
+thank you! I should like so much to go."
+
+The young midshipman took her hand; perhaps he had a little sister at
+home and the action was pleasant and familiar; it seemed to be both;
+and led her down the way that took them to the upper gun deck.
+
+"How comes it you are not taking lunch too?" he asked by the way.
+
+"Oh, there are too many of them," said Dolly contentedly. "I don't
+care. I had a biscuit."
+
+"You don't care for your lunch?"
+
+"Yes, I do, when I'm hungry; but now I would rather see things. I never
+saw a ship before."
+
+They arrived in the great, gloomy, black gun deck. The midshipman let
+go Dolly's hand, and she stood and looked along the avenue between the
+bristling black cannon.
+
+"Now, what is it that you don't understand?" he asked, watching her.
+
+"What are these guns here for?"
+
+"Don't you know _that?_ Guns are to fight with."
+
+"Yes, I know," said Dolly; "but how can you fight with them here in a
+row? and what would you fight with? I mean, who would you fight
+against?"
+
+"Some other ship, if Fate willed it so. Look here; this is the way of
+it."
+
+He took a letter from the breast of his coat, tore off a blank leaf;
+then resting it on the side of a gun carriage, he proceeded to make a
+sketch. Dolly's eyes followed his pencil point, spell-bound with
+interest. Under his quick and ready fingers grew, she could not tell
+how, the figure of a ship,--hull, masts, sails and rigging, deftly
+sketched in; till it seemed to Dolly she could almost see how the wind
+blew that was filling out the sails and floating off the streamer.
+
+"There," said the artist,--"that is our enemy."
+
+"Our enemy?" repeated Dolly.
+
+"Our supposed enemy. We will suppose she is an enemy."
+
+"But how could she be?"
+
+"We might be at war with England suppose, or with France. This might be
+an English ship of war coming to catch up every merchantman she could
+overhaul that carried American colours, and make a prize of her; don't
+you see?"
+
+"Do they do that?" said Dolly.
+
+"What? catch up merchantmen? of course they do; and the more of value
+is on board, the better they are pleased. We lose so much, and they
+gain so much. Now we want to stop this fellow's power of doing
+mischief; you understand."
+
+"What are those little black spots you are making along her sides."
+
+"The port holes of her guns."
+
+"Port holes?"
+
+"The openings where the mouths of her guns look out. See," said he,
+pointing to the one near which they were standing,--"that is a port
+hole."
+
+"That little window?"
+
+"It isn't a window; it is a port hole."
+
+"It is not a black spot."
+
+"Because you are inside, and looking out towards the light. Look at
+them when you are leaving the ship; they will look like black spots
+then, you will find."
+
+"Well, that's the enemy," said Dolly, drawing a short breath of
+excitement. "What is that ship you are making now?"
+
+"That's the 'Achilles'; brought to; with her main topsails laid aback,
+and her fore topsails full; ready for action."
+
+"I do not know what are topsails or fore topsails," said Dolly.
+
+The midshipman explained; to illustrate his explanation sketched
+lightly another figure of a vessel, showing more distinctly the
+principal sails.
+
+"And this is the 'Achilles,'" said Dolly, recurring to the principal
+design. "You have put her a great way off from the enemy, it seems to
+me."
+
+"No. Point blank range. Quite near enough."
+
+"Oh, what is 'point blank range'?" cried Dolly in despair. Her new
+friend smiled, but answered with good-humoured patience. Dolly listened
+and comprehended.
+
+"Then, if this were an enemy, and that the 'Achilles,' and within point
+blank range, you would load one of these guns and fire at her?"
+
+The midshipman shook his head. "We should load up all of them--all on
+that side."
+
+"And five them one after another?"
+
+"As fast as we could. We should give her a broadside. But we should
+probably give her one broadside after another."
+
+"Suppose the balls all hit her?"
+
+"Yes, you may suppose that. I should like to suppose it, if I were the
+officer in command."
+
+"What would they do to her?--to that enemy ship?"
+
+"If they all hit? Hinder her from doing any more mischief."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Break her masts, tear up her rigging, make a wreck of her generally.
+Perhaps sink her."
+
+"But suppose while you are fighting that she fights too?"
+
+"Extremely probable."
+
+"If a shot came in here--could it come in here?"
+
+"Certainly. Cannon balls will go almost anywhere."
+
+"If it came in here, what would it do?"
+
+"Kill three or four of the men at a gun, perhaps; tear away a bit of
+the ship's side; or perhaps disable the gun."
+
+"While you were firing at the enemy on this side, the guns of the other
+side, I suppose, would have nothing to do?"
+
+"They might be fighting another enemy on that side," said the
+midshipman, smiling.
+
+"I should think," said Dolly, looking down the long line of the gun
+deck, and trying to imagine the state of things described,--"I should
+think it would be most dreadful!"
+
+"I have no doubt you would think so."
+
+"Don't _you_ think so?"
+
+"I have never been in action yet."
+
+"Don't you hope you never will?"
+
+The young man laughed a little. "What would be the use of ships of war,
+if there were never any fighting? I should have nothing to do in the
+world."
+
+"You might do something else," said Dolly, gazing at the lines of black
+guns stretching along both sides of the deck, so near to each other, so
+black, so grim. "How many men does it take to manage each gun? You said
+_three or four_ might be killed."
+
+"According to the size of the gun. Twelve men for these guns; larger
+would take fifteen."
+
+Again Dolly meditated; in imagination peopled the solitary place with
+the active crowd of men which would be there if each gun had twelve
+gunners, filled the silence with the roar of combined discharges,
+thought of the dead and wounded; at last turned her eyes to the blue
+ones that were watching her.
+
+"I wonder if God likes it?" she said.
+
+"Likes what?" said the midshipman in wonder.
+
+"Such work. I don't see how He _can_."
+
+"How can you help such work? People cannot get along without fighting."
+
+He did not speak carelessly or mockingly or banteringly; rather with a
+gentle, somewhat deliberate utterance. Yet Dolly was persuaded there
+was no unmanly softness in him; she never doubted but that he would be
+ready to do his part in that dreadful work, if it must be done.
+Moreover, he was paying to this odd little girl a delicate sort of
+respect and treating her with great consideration. Her confidence, as I
+said, had been entirely given to him before; and now some gratitude
+began to mingle with it, along with great freedom to speak her mind.
+
+"I don't think God can like it," she repeated.
+
+"What would you do, then?" he also repeated, smiling. "Let wicked
+people have their own way?"
+
+"No."
+
+"If they are not to have their own way, you must stop them."
+
+"I think this is a dreadful way of stopping them."
+
+"It's a bad job for the side that goes under," the young officer
+admitted.
+
+"I don't believe God likes it," Dolly concluded for the third time,
+with great conviction.
+
+"Is that your rule for everything?"
+
+"Yes. Isn't it your rule?"
+
+"I have to obey orders," he answered, watching her.
+
+"Don't you obey _His_ orders?" said Dolly wistfully.
+
+"I do not know what they are."
+
+"Oh, but they are in the Bible. You can find them in the Bible."
+
+"Does it say anything about fighting?"
+
+Dolly tried to think, and got confused. Certainly it did say a good
+deal about fighting, but in various ways, it seemed to her. She did not
+know how to answer. She changed the subject.
+
+"How do you get the shot, the balls, I mean, into these guns? I don't
+see how you get at them. The mouths are out of the windows. Port holes,
+I mean."
+
+For the upper gun deck had been put to a certain extent in order of
+action, and the guns were run out.
+
+"You are of an inquiring disposition," said the midshipman gravely.
+
+"Am I?"
+
+"I think you are."
+
+"But I should like to know"--pursued Dolly, looking at the muzzle of
+the gun by which they were standing.
+
+"The guns would be run in to be loaded."
+
+Dolly looked at the heavy piece of metal, and at him, but did not
+repeat her question.
+
+"Now you want to know how," he said, smiling. "If I were captain, I
+would have the men here and show you. The gun is run in by means of
+this tackle, see!--and when it is charged, it is bowsed out again."
+
+Seeing Dolly's wise grave eyes bent upon the subject, he went on to
+amuse her with a full detail of the exercise of the gun; from "casting
+loose," to the finishing "secure your guns;" explaining the manner of
+handling and loading, and the use of the principal tackle concerned.
+Dolly listened, intent, fascinated, enchained; and I think the young
+man was a little fascinated too, though his attentions were given to so
+very young a lady. Dolly's brown eyes were so utterly pure and grave
+and unconscious; the brain at work behind them was so evidently clear
+and busy and competent; the pleasure she showed was so
+unschoolgirl-like, and he thought so unchildlike, and at the same time
+so very far from being young lady-like. What she was like, he did not
+know; she was an odd little apparition there in the gun-deck of the
+"Achilles," leaning with her elbows upon a gun carriage, and surveyeing
+with her soft eyes the various paraphernalia of conflict and carnage
+around her. Contrast could hardly be stronger.
+
+"Suppose," said Dolly at last, "a shot should make a hole in the side
+of the ship, and let in the water?"
+
+"Well? Suppose it," he answered.
+
+"Does that ever happen?"
+
+"Quite often. Why not?"
+
+"What would you do then?"
+
+"Pump out the water as fast as it came in,--if we could."
+
+"Suppose you couldn't?"
+
+"Then we should go down."
+
+"And all in the ship?"
+
+"All who could not get out of it."
+
+"How could any get out of it?"
+
+"In the boats."
+
+"Oh!--I forgot the boats. Would they hold everybody?"
+
+"Probably not. The other ships' boats would come to help."
+
+"The officers would go first, I suppose?"
+
+"Last. The highest officer of all would be the last man on board."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"He must do his duty. If he cannot save his ship, at least he must save
+his men;--all he can. He is there to do his duty."
+
+"I think it would be better not to be there at all," said Dolly very
+gravely.
+
+"Who would take care of you then, if an enemy's fleet were coming to
+attack Philadelphia?" said the young officer.
+
+"I would go home," said Dolly. "I don't know what would become of
+Philadelphia. But I do not think God can like it."
+
+"Shall we go above where it is more cheerful? or have you seen it all?"
+
+Dolly gave him her hand again and let him help her till they got on
+deck. There they went roaming towards the fore part of the vessel,
+looking at everything by the way; Dolly asking the names and the
+meaning of things, and receiving explanations, especially regarding the
+sails and rigging and steering of the ship. She was even shown where
+the sailors made their home in the forecastle. As they were returning
+aft, Dolly stopped by a coil of rope on deck and began pulling at an
+end of it. Her companion inquired what she wanted?
+
+"I would like a little piece," said Dolly; "if I could get it."
+
+"A piece of rope?"
+
+"Yes;--just a little bit; but it is very strong; it won't break."
+
+She was tugging at a loose strand.
+
+"How large a bit do you want?"
+
+"Oh, just a little piece," said Dolly. "I wanted just a little piece to
+keep--but it's no matter. I wanted to keep it."
+
+"A keepsake?" said the young man. "To remember us by? They are breaking
+up,"--he added immediately, casting his glance aft, where a stir and a
+gathering and a movement on deck in front of the captain's cabin could
+now be seen, and the sound of voices came fresh along the breeze. "They
+are going--there is no time now. I will send you a piece, if you will
+tell me where I can send it. Where do you live?"
+
+"Oh, will you? Oh, thank you!" said Dolly, and her face lifted
+confidingly to the young officer grew sunny with pleasure. "I live at
+Mrs. Delancy's school;--but no, I don't! I don't live there. My home is
+at Uncle Edward's--Mr. Edward Eberstein--in Walnut Street."
+
+"What number?" said the midshipman, using his pencil again on the much
+scribbled piece of paper; and Dolly told him.
+
+"And whom shall I send the--the piece of rope, to?"
+
+"Oh, yes!--Dolly Copley. That is my name. Good bye, I must go."
+
+"Dolly Copley. You shall have it," said he, giving the little hand she
+held out to him a right sailorly grasp. And Dolly ran away. In the
+bustle and anxiety of getting lowered into the little boat again she
+forgot him and everything else; however, so soon as she was safely
+seated and just as the men were ordered to "give way," she looked up at
+the great ship they were leaving; and there, just above her, leaning on
+the guards and looking over and down at her, she saw her midshipman
+friend. Dolly saw nothing else till his face was too small in the
+distance to be any longer recognised.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+THE PIECE OF ROPE.
+
+It was Saturday and holiday, and Dolly went home to her aunt's. There
+her aunt and uncle, as was natural, expected a long story of the
+morning's experience. And Dolly one would think might have given it;
+matter for the detail was not wanting; yet she seemed to have little to
+tell. On the other hand, she had a great deal to ask. She wanted to
+know why people could not do all their fighting on land; why ships of
+war were necessary; Mr. Eberstein tried to explain that there might be
+great and needful advantages attendant upon the use of them. Then Dolly
+begged for instances. Had we, Americans, ever fought at sea? Mr.
+Eberstein answered that, and gave her details of facts, while Mrs.
+Eberstein sat by silent and watched Dolly's serious, meditative face.
+
+"I should think," said Dolly, "that when there is a fight, a ship of
+war would be a very dreadful place."
+
+"There is no doubt of that, my little girl," said Mr. Eberstein. "Take
+the noise, and the smoke, the packed condition of one of those gun
+decks, and the every now and then coming in of a round shot, crashing
+through planks and timbers, splintering what comes in its way, and
+stretching half a dozen men at once, more or less, on the floor in dead
+and wounded,--I think it must be as good a likeness of the infernal
+regions as earth can give--in one way at least."
+
+"In what way?" Dolly asked immediately.
+
+"Confusion of pain and horror. Not wickedness."
+
+"Uncle Ned, do you think God can like it?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then isn't it wicked?"
+
+"No, little one; not necessarily. No sort of pain or suffering can be
+pleasing to God; we know it is not; yet sin has made it necessary, and
+He often sends it."
+
+"Don't He always send it?"
+
+"Why no. Some sorts people bring on themselves by their own folly and
+perverseness; and some sorts people work on others by their own wicked
+self-will. God does not cause that, though He will overrule it to do
+what He wants done."
+
+"Uncle Ned, do you think we shall ever have to use our ships of war
+again?"
+
+"We are using them all the time. We send them to this place and that
+place to protect our own people, and their merchant vessels and their
+commerce, from interference and injury."
+
+"No, but I mean, in fighting. Do you think we shall ever have to send
+them to fight again?"
+
+"Probably."
+
+"To fight whom?"
+
+"That I don't know."
+
+"Then why do you say 'probably'?"
+
+"Because human nature remains what it was, and will no doubt do the
+same work in the future that it has done from the beginning."
+
+"Why is fighting part of that work, Uncle Ned?"
+
+"Ah, why! Greed, which wants what is the right of others; pride, which
+resents even a fancied interference with its own; anger, which cries
+for revenge; these are the reasons."
+
+Dolly looked very deeply serious.
+
+"Why do you care so much about it, Dolly?" her aunt asked at length,
+after a meditative pause of several minutes.
+
+"I would be sorry to have the 'Achilles' go into battle," said Dolly;
+and a perceptible slight shudder passed over her shoulders.
+
+"Is the 'Achilles' so much to you, just because you have seen her?"
+
+"No--" said Dolly thoughtfully; "it isn't the _ship;_ it's the people."
+
+"Oh!--But what do you know of the people?"
+
+"I saw a good many of them, Aunt Harry."
+
+Politic Dolly! She had really seen only one. Yet she had no idea of
+being politic; and why she did not say whom she had seen, and what
+reason she had for being interested in him, I cannot tell you.
+
+From that time Dolly's reading took a new turn. She sought out in the
+bookcases everything that related to sailors and ships, and especially
+naval warfare, and simply devoured it. The little Life of Lord Nelson,
+by Southey, in two small calf-bound volumes, became her darling book.
+Better than any novel, for it was _true_, and equal to any novel for
+its varied, picturesque, passionate, stirring life story. Dolly read
+it, till she could have given you at any time an accurate and detailed
+account of any one of Nelson's great battles; and more than that, she
+studied the geography of the lands and waters thereby concerned, and
+where possible the topography also. I suppose the "Achilles" stood for
+a model of all the ships in which successively the great commander
+hoisted his flag; and if the hero himself did not take the form and
+features of a certain American midshipman, it was probably because
+there was a likeness of the subject of the Memoir opposite to the
+title-page; and the rather plain, rather melancholy, rather feeble
+traits of the English naval captain, could by no effort of imagination
+be confounded with the quiet strength and gentle manliness which Dolly
+had found in the straight brows and keen blue eyes and kindly smile of
+her midshipman friend. That would not do. Nelson was not like him, nor
+he like Nelson; but Dolly had little doubt but he would do as much, if
+he had occasion. In that faith she read on; and made every action
+lively with the vision of those keen-sighted blue eyes and firm sweet
+mouth in the midst of the smoke of battle and the confusion of orders
+given and received. How often the Life of Nelson was read, I dare not
+say; nor with what renewed eagerness the Marine Dictionary and its
+plates of ships and cannon were studied and searched. From that,
+Dolly's attention was extended to other books which told of the sea and
+of life upon it, even though the life were not war-like. Captain Cook's
+voyages came in for a large amount of favour; and Cooper's "Afloat and
+Ashore," which happened about this time to fall into Dolly's hands, was
+devoured with a hunger which grew on what it fed. Nobody knew; she had
+ceased to talk on naval subjects; and it was so common a thing for
+Dolly to be swallowed up in some book or other whenever she was at
+home, that Mrs. Eberstein's curiosity was not excited.
+
+Meanwhile school days and school work went on, and week succeeded week,
+and everybody but Dolly had forgotten all about the "Achilles;" when
+one day a small package was brought to the door and handed in "For Miss
+Dolly Copley." It was a Saturday afternoon. Dolly and her aunt were
+sitting comfortably together in Mrs. Eberstein's workroom upstairs, and
+Mr. Eberstein was there too at his secretary.
+
+"For me?" said Dolly, when the servant brought the package in. "It's a
+box! Aunt Harry, what can it be?"
+
+"Open and see, Dolly."
+
+Which Dolly did with an odd mixture of haste and deliberation which
+amused Mrs. Eberstein. She tore off nothing, and she cut nothing;
+patiently knots were untied and papers unfolded, though Dolly's fingers
+trembled with excitement. Papers taken off showed a rather small
+pasteboard box; and the box being opened revealed coil upon coil,
+nicely wound up, of a beautifully wrought chain. It might be a watch
+chain; but Dolly possessed no watch.
+
+"What is it, Aunt Harry?" she said in wondering pleasure as the coils
+of the pretty woven work fell over her hand.
+
+"It looks like a watch chain, Dolly. What is it made of?"
+
+Mrs. Eberstein inspected the work closely and could not determine.
+
+"But who could send me a watch chain?" said Dolly.
+
+"Somebody; for here is your name very plainly on the cover and on the
+paper."
+
+"The boy is waiting for an answer, miss."
+
+"Answer? To what? I don't know whom to answer," said Dolly.
+
+"There's a note, miss."
+
+"A note? where?--Oh, here _is_ a note, Aunt Harry, in the bottom of the
+box. I did not see it."
+
+"From whom, Dolly?"
+
+Dolly did not answer. She had unfolded the note, and now her whole face
+was wrinkling up with pleasure or fun; she did not hear or heed her
+aunt's question. Mrs. Eberstein marked how her colour rose and her
+smile grew sparkling; and she watched with not a little curiosity and
+some impatience till Dolly should speak. The little girl looked up at
+last with a face all dimples.
+
+"O Aunt Harry! it's my piece of rope."
+
+"Your _piece of rope_, my dear?"
+
+"Yes; I wanted a piece of rope; and this is it."
+
+"That is not a piece of rope."
+
+"Yes, it is; it is made of it. I could not think what it was made of;
+and now I see. Isn't it beautifully made? He has picked a piece of rope
+to pieces, and woven this chain of the threads; isn't it beautiful? And
+how kind! How kind he is."
+
+"_Who_, Dolly? Who has done it?"
+
+"Oh, the midshipman, Aunt Harry."
+
+"_The_ midshipman. What one? You didn't say anything about a
+midshipman."
+
+"I saw him, though, and he said he would send me a piece of rope. I
+wanted a piece, Aunt Harry, to remember the ship by; and I could not
+break a bit off, though I tried; then he saw me trying, and it was just
+time to go, and he said he would get it and send it to me. I thought he
+had forgotten all about it; but here it is! I am so glad."
+
+"My dear, do you call that a piece of rope?"
+
+"Why, yes, Aunt Harry; it is woven out of a piece of rope. He has
+picked the rope apart and made this chain of the threads. I think he is
+very clever."
+
+"_Who_, my dear? Who has done it, Dolly?"
+
+"The midshipman, Aunt Harry."
+
+"What midshipman?"
+
+"On the 'Achilles.' I saw him that day."
+
+"Did you see only one midshipman?"
+
+"No; I suppose I saw a good many. I didn't notice any but this one."
+
+"And he noticed you, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes, a little"--said Dolly.
+
+"Did he notice nobody beside you?"
+
+"I don't know, Aunt Harry. Not that time, for I was alone."
+
+"Alone! Where were all the rest, and Mrs. Delancy?"
+
+"Eating lunch in the captain's cabin."
+
+"Did you have no lunch?"
+
+"I had a biscuit one of the officers gave me."
+
+"And have you got a note there from the midshipman?"
+
+"Yes, Aunt Harry."
+
+"What does he say?"
+
+Dolly unfolded the note again and looked at it with great
+consideration; then handed it to Mrs. Eberstein. Mrs. Eberstein read
+aloud.
+
+
+"Ship '_Achilles_,'
+
+"_Dec_. 5, 18--
+
+"Will Miss Dolly Copley please send a word to say that she has received
+her piece of cable safe? I thought she would like it best perhaps in a
+manufactured form; and I hope she will keep it to remember the
+'Achilles' by, and also
+
+"A. CROWNINSHIELD."
+
+
+"What's all that?" demanded Mr. Eberstein now from his writing-desk.
+Mrs. Eberstein bit her lips as she answered,
+
+"Billet-doux."
+
+"Aunt Harry," said Dolly now doubtfully, "must I write an answer?"
+
+"Edward," said Mrs. Eberstein, "shall I let this child write a note to
+a midshipman on board the 'Achilles'? What do you think? Come and
+counsel me."
+
+Mr. Eberstein left his writing, informed himself of the circumstances,
+read "A. Crowninshield's" note, and gave his decision.
+
+"The 'Achilles'? Oh yes, I know Captain Barbour very well. It's all
+right, I guess. I think Dolly had better write an answer, certainly."
+
+So Dolly fetched her writing materials. Her aunt looked for some
+appeals for advice now on her part; but Dolly made none. She bent over
+her paper with an earnest face, a little flushed; but it seemed she was
+in no uncertainty what to say or how to say it. She did not offer to
+show her finished note to Mrs. Eberstein; I think it did not occur to
+her; but in the intensity of her concentration Dolly only thought of
+the person she was writing to and the occasion which made her write.
+Certainly she would have had no objection that anybody should see what
+she wrote. The simple words ran as follows:
+
+
+"MR. CROWNINSHIELD,
+
+"I have got the chain, and I think it is beautiful, and I am very much
+obliged to you. I mean to keep it and wear it as long as I live. You
+are very kind.
+
+"DOLLY COPLEY."
+
+
+The note was closed and sent off; and with that Dolly dismissed the
+subject, so far at least as words were concerned; but Mrs. Eberstein
+watched her still for some time handling and examining the chain,
+passing it through her fingers, and regarding it with a serious face,
+and yet an expression in the eyes and on the lips that was almost
+equivalent to a smile.
+
+"What are you going to do with it, Dolly?" Mrs. Eberstein asked at
+length, wishing to get into the child's thoughts.
+
+"I'll keep it, Aunt Harry. And when I have anything to wear it with, I
+will wear it. When I am old enough, I mean."
+
+"What did you do to that young fellow, to make him show you such an
+attention?"
+
+"Do to him? I didn't do anything to him, Aunt Harry!"
+
+"It was very kind of him, wasn't it?"
+
+"_Very_ kind. I guess he is kind," said Dolly.
+
+"Maybe we shall see him again one of these days, and have a chance to
+thank him. The midshipmen get leave to come on shore now and then."
+
+But no such chance offered. The "Achilles" sailed out of those waters,
+and her place in the river was empty.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+END OF SCHOOL TERM.
+
+Dolly's school life is not further of importance in this history; or no
+further than may serve to fill out the picture already given of
+herself. A few smooth and uneventful years followed that first coming
+to Philadelphia; not therefore unfruitful because uneventful; perhaps
+the very contrary. The little girl made her way among her fellow pupils
+and the teachers, the masters and mistresses, the studies and drills
+which busied them all, with a kind of sweet facility; such as is born
+everywhere, I suppose, of good will. Whoever got into scrapes, it was
+never Dolly Copley; whoever was chidden for imperfect recitations, such
+rebukes never fell on her; whoever might be suspected of mischief, such
+suspicion could not rest for a moment on the fair, frank little face
+and those grave brown eyes. The most unpopular mistress had a friend in
+Dolly; the most refractory school-girl owned to a certain influence
+which went forth from her; the most uncomfortable of her companions
+found soothing in her presence. People who are happy themselves can
+drop a good deal of oil on the creaking machinery around them, and love
+is the only manufactory where the oil is made.
+
+With all this smooth going, it may be supposed that Dolly's progress in
+knowledge and accomplishments would be at least satisfactory; and it
+was more than that. She prospered in all she undertook. The teacher of
+mathematics said she had a good head for calculation; the French
+mistress declared nature had given her a good ear and accent; the
+dancing master found her agile and graceful as a young roe; the drawing
+master went beyond all these and averred that Miss Copley would
+distinguish him and herself. "She has an excellent manner of handling,
+madame," he said,--"and she has an eye for colour, and she will have a
+style that will be distinguished." Moreover, Dolly's voice was sweet
+and touching, and promised to be very effective.
+
+So things went on at school; and at home each day bound faster the
+loving ties which united her with her kind protectors and relations.
+Every week grew and deepened the pleasure of the intercourse they held
+together. Those were happy years for all parties. Dolly had become
+rather more talkative, without being less of a bookworm. Vacations were
+sometimes spent with her mother and father, though not always, as the
+latter were sometimes travelling. Dolly missed nothing; Mrs.
+Eberstein's house had come to be a second home.
+
+All this while the "Achilles" had never been heard of again in the
+neighbourhood of Philadelphia. Neither, though Dolly I am bound to say
+searched faithfully all the lists of ship's officers which were
+reported in any American ports, did she ever so much as see the name of
+A. Crowninshield. She always looked for it, wherever a chance of
+finding it might be; she never found it.
+
+Such was the course of things, until Dolly had reached her seventeenth
+year and was half through it. Then, in the spring, long before school
+term ended, came a sudden summons for her. Mr. Copley had received the
+appointment of a consulship in London; he and his family were about to
+transfer themselves immediately to this new sphere of activity, and
+Dolly of course must go along. Her books were hastily fetched from
+school, her clothes packed up; and Dolly and her kind friends in Walnut
+Street sat together the last evening in a very subdued frame of mind.
+
+"I don't see what your father wanted of a consulship, or anything else
+that would take him out of his country!" Mr. Eberstein uttered his
+rather grumbling complaint. "He has enough to satisfy a man without
+that."
+
+"But what papa likes is precisely something to take him out of the
+country. He likes change"--said Dolly sorrowfully.
+
+"He won't have much change as American Consul in London," Mr. Eberstein
+returned. "Business will pin him pretty close."
+
+"I suppose it will be a change at first," said Dolly; "and then, when
+he gets tired of it, he will give it up, and take something else."
+
+"And you, little Dolly, you are accordingly to be shoved out into the
+great, great world, long before you are ready for it."
+
+"Is the world any bigger over there than it is on this side?" said
+Dolly, with a gleam of fun.
+
+"Well, yes," said Mr. Eberstein. "Most people think so. And London _is_
+a good deal bigger than Philadelphia."
+
+"The world is very much alike all over," remarked Mrs. Eberstein; "in
+one place a little more fascinating and dangerous, in another a little
+less."
+
+"Will it be more or less, over there, for me, Aunt Harry?"
+
+"It would be 'more' for you anywhere, Dolly, soon. Why you are between
+sixteen and seventeen; almost a woman!" Mrs. Eberstein said with a sigh.
+
+"No, not yet, Aunt Harry. I'll be a girl yet awhile. I can be that in
+England, can't I, as well as here?"
+
+"Better," said Mr. Eberstein.
+
+"But the world, nevertheless, _is_ a little bigger out there, Ned," his
+wife added.
+
+"In what way, Aunt Harry? And what do you mean by the 'world' anyhow?"
+
+"I mean what the Lord was speaking of, when He said to His disciples,
+'If ye were of the world, the world would love his own; but because ye
+are not of the world, but I have chosen you out of the world, therefore
+the world hateth you.'"
+
+"That means, bad people?"
+
+"Some of them are by no means bad people. Some of them are delightful
+people."
+
+"Then I do not quite understand, Aunt Harry. I thought it meant not
+only _bad_ people, but gay people; pleasure lovers."
+
+"Aren't you a lover of pleasure, Dolly?"
+
+"Oh yes. But, Aunt Harry," Dolly said seriously, "I am _not_ a 'lover
+of pleasure more than a lover of God.'"
+
+"No, thanks to His goodness! However, Dolly, people may be just as
+worldly without seeking pleasures at all. It isn't that."
+
+"What is it, then?"
+
+"I don't know how to put it. Ned, can you?"
+
+"Why, Hal," said Mr. Eberstein pondering, "it comes to about this, I
+reckon. There are just two kingdoms in the world, upon earth I mean."
+
+"Yes. Well? I know there are two kingdoms, and no neutral ground. But
+what is the dividing line? That is what we want to know."
+
+"If there is no neutral ground, it follows that the border line of one
+kingdom is the border line of the other. To go out of one, is to go
+into the other."
+
+"Well? Yes. That's plain."
+
+"Then it is simple enough. What belongs to Christ, or what is done for
+Him or in His service, belongs to His kingdom. Of course, what is _not_
+Christ's, nor is done for Him, nor in His service, belongs to the
+world."
+
+There was a silence here of some duration; and then Dolly exclaimed, "I
+see it. I shall know now."
+
+"What, Dolly?"
+
+"How to do, Aunt Harry."
+
+"How to do what?"
+
+"Everything. I was thinking particularly just then"--Dolly hesitated.
+
+"Yes, of what?"
+
+"Of dressing myself."
+
+"Dressing yourself, you chicken?"
+
+"Yes, Aunt Harry. I see it. If I do not dress for Christ, I do it for
+the world."
+
+"Don't go into another extreme now, Dolly."
+
+"No, Aunt Harry. I cannot be wrong, can I, if I do it for Christ?"
+
+"I wonder how many girls of sixteen in the country have such a thought?
+And I wonder, how long will you be able to keep it, Dolly?"
+
+"Why not, Aunt Harry?"
+
+"O child! because you have got to meet the world."
+
+"What will the world do to me?" Dolly asked, half laughing in her
+simple ignorance.
+
+"When I think what it will do to you, Dolly, I am ready to break my
+heart. It will tempt you, child. It will tempt you with beauty, and
+with pleasant things; pleasant things that look so harmless! and it
+will seek to persuade you with sweet voices and with voices of
+authority; and it will show you everybody going one way, and that not
+your way."
+
+"But I will follow Christ, Aunt Hal."
+
+"Then you will have to bear reproach."
+
+"I would rather bear the world's reproach, than His."
+
+"If you don't get over-persuaded, child, or deafened with the voices!"
+
+"She will have to do like the little girl in the fairy tale," said Mr.
+Eberstein; "stuff cotton in her ears. The little girl in the fairy tale
+was going up a hill to get something at the top--what _was_ she going
+for, that was at the top of the hill?"
+
+"I know!" cried Dolly. "I remember. She was going for three things. The
+Singing bird and the Golden water, and--I forget what the third thing
+was."
+
+"Well, you see what that means," Mr. Eberstein went on. "She was going
+up the hill for the Golden water at the top; and there were ten
+thousand voices in her ears tempting her to look round; and if she
+looked, she would be turned to stone. The road was lined with stones,
+which had once been pilgrims. You see, Dolly? Her only way was to stop
+her ears."
+
+"I see, Uncle Ned."
+
+"What shall Dolly stop her ears with?" asked Mrs. Eberstein.
+
+"These words will do. 'Whether ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do,
+do all to the glory of God.'"
+
+There was little more talking, for as the evening drew on, the
+heaviness of the parting weighed too hard upon all hearts. The next day
+Dolly made the journey to Boston, and from there to her parents' house;
+and her childhood's days were over.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+PLAYTHINGS.
+
+Dolly did not know that her childhood was over. Every pulse of her
+happy little heart said the contrary, when she found herself again
+among her old haunts and was going the rounds of them, the morning
+after her return home. She came in at last to her mother, flushed and
+warm.
+
+"Mother, what are we going away for?" she began.
+
+"Your father knows. I don't. Men never know when they are well off."
+
+"Do women?"
+
+"I used to think so."
+
+"Is it as pleasant in England as it is here?"
+
+"Depends on where you are placed, I suppose, and _how_ you are placed.
+How can I tell? I have never been in England."
+
+"Mother, we have got the prettiest little calf in the barn that you
+ever saw."
+
+"In the barn! A queer place for a calf to be, it seems to me."
+
+"Yes, because they want to keep it from the cow. Johnson is going to
+rear it, he says. I am so glad it is not to be killed! It is spotted,
+mother; all red and white; and so prettily spotted!"
+
+An inarticulate sound from Mrs. Copley, which might mean anything.
+
+"And, mother, I have been getting the eggs. And Johnson has a hen
+setting. We shall have chickens pretty soon."
+
+"Dolly Copley, how old are you?"
+
+"Sixteen last Christmas, mother."
+
+"And seventeen next Christmas."
+
+"Yes, ma'am, but next Christmas is not come yet."
+
+"Seems to me, it is near enough for you to be something besides a
+child."
+
+"What's the harm, mother?"
+
+"Harm?" said Mrs. Copley with a sharp accent; "why, when one has a
+woman's work to do, one had better be a woman to do it. How is a child
+to fill a woman's place?"
+
+"I have only a child's place to fill, just now," said Dolly merrily. "I
+have no woman's work to do, mother."
+
+"Yes, you have. You have got to go into society, and play your part in
+society, and be married by and by; and _then_ you'll know that a
+woman's part isn't so easy to play."
+
+Dolly looked grave.
+
+"But we are going to England, mother; where we know nobody. I don't see
+how we are to go into much society."
+
+"Do you suppose," said Mrs. Copley very irately, "that with your
+father's position his wife and daughter will not be visited and receive
+invitations? That is the one thing that reconciles me to going. We
+shall have a very different sort of society from what we have here. Why
+you will go to court, Dolly; you will be presented; and of course you
+will see nothing but people of the very best circles."
+
+"I don't care about going to court."
+
+"Why not? You are a goose; you know nothing about it. Why don't you
+want to go to court? Your father's daughter may, as well as some other
+people's. Why don't you care about it?"
+
+"It would be a great deal of fuss; and no use."
+
+"No use! Yes, it would; just the use I am telling you. It would
+introduce you to the best society."
+
+"But I am not going to live in England all my life, mother."
+
+"How do you know?" very sharply. "How do you know where you are going
+to live?"
+
+"Why, father won't stay there always, will he?"
+
+"I am sure I don't know what your father will take into his head. I may
+be called to end my days in Japan. But you--Look here; has your aunt
+made you as old-fashioned as she is herself?"
+
+"How, mother?"
+
+"I am sure I can't tell how! There are ever so many ways. There's the
+benevolent sort, and there's the devout sort, and there's the
+puritanical sort. Has she put it into your head that it is good to be a
+hermit and separate yourself from the rest of the world?"
+
+Dolly laughed and denied that charge.
+
+"She's a very good woman, I suppose; but she is ridiculous," Mrs.
+Copley went on. "Don't be ridiculous, whatever you are. You can't do
+any good to anybody by being ridiculous."
+
+"But people may call things ridiculous, that are not ridiculous,
+mother."
+
+"Don't let them _call_ you ridiculous, then," said Mrs. Copley,
+chopping her words in the way people do when impatience has the
+management of them. "You had better not. The world is pretty apt to be
+right."
+
+Dolly let the subject go, and let it go from her mind too; giving
+herself to the delights of her chickens, and the calf, and the nests of
+eggs in the hay mow. More than half the time she was dancing about out
+of doors; as gay as the daffodils that were just opening, as delicate
+as the Van Thol tulips that were taking on slender streaks and threads
+of carmine in their half transparent white petals, as sweet as the
+white hyacinth that was blooming in Mrs. Copley's window. Within the
+house Dolly displayed another character, and soon became indispensable
+to her mother. In all consultations of business, in emergencies of
+packing, in perplexities of arrangements, Dolly was ready with a sweet,
+clear common sense, loving hands of skill, and an imperturbable
+cheerfulness and patience. It was only a few weeks that the confusion
+lasted; during those weeks Mrs. Copley came to know what sort of a
+daughter she had. And even Mr. Copley began to divine it.
+
+Mr. Copley has been no more than mentioned. He was a comely,
+intelligent, active, energetic man; a very good specimen of a typical
+Yankee who has enjoyed the advantages of education and society. He had
+plenty of common sense, acute business faculties, and genial manners;
+and so was generally a popular man among his compeers. His inherited
+family property made him more than independent; so his business
+dealings were entered into rather for amusement and to satisfy the
+inborn Yankee craving to be doing something, than for need or for gain.
+Mr. Copley laid no special value on money, beyond what went to make him
+comfortable. But he lacked any feeling for art, which might have made
+him a collector and connoisseur; he had no love for nature, which might
+have expended itself in grounds and gardens; he cared little for
+knowledge, except such as he could forthwith use. What was left to him
+but business? for he was not of those softly natures which sit down at
+home in the midst of their families and are content. However, Mr.
+Copley could value his home belongings, and had an eye to discern
+things.
+
+He was watching Dolly, one day just before their departure, as she was
+busying herself with a bunch of violets; putting some of them in a
+glass, sticking some of them in her mother's hair, finally holding the
+bunch under her father's nose.
+
+"Dolly," said her father, "I declare I don't know whether you are most
+of a child or a woman!"
+
+"I suppose I can be both, father; can't I?"
+
+"I don't know about that."
+
+"So I tell her," said Mrs. Copley. "It's all very well as long as she
+is here; but I tell her she has got to give up being a child and
+playing with the chickens."
+
+"Why must I?" said Dolly.
+
+"You will find other playthings on the other side," said her father,
+fondly putting his arm round her and drawing her up to him.
+
+"Will they be as good as chickens? What will they be?"
+
+"Yes, there, 'what will they be,' she asks! I do believe that Dolly has
+no idea," Mrs. Copley remarked.
+
+"She will find out soon enough," said Mr. Copley contentedly.
+
+"What will they be, father?" Dolly repeated, making for the present a
+plaything of her father's head; for both her soft arms were around it,
+and she was touching first one side and then the other side with her
+own cheeks. Mr. Copley seemed to enjoy the play, for he gave himself up
+to it luxuriously and made no answer.
+
+"Dolly has been long enough in Philadelphia," Mrs. Copley went on. "It
+is time she was away."
+
+"So I think."
+
+"Father," said Dolly now, "have I done with going to school?"
+
+There ensued a debate upon this question; Dolly herself taking the
+negative and her mother the affirmative side. She wanted her daughter
+at home, she said.
+
+"But not till I am fit to be at home, mother?"
+
+"Fit? Why are you not fit?" said Mrs. Copley. "You know as much as I
+did when I was married; and I should think that would be enough. I do
+not see what girls want with so much crammed into their heads,
+nowadays! It does them no good, and it does nobody else any good."
+
+"What do you think you want, Dolly, more than you have already?" her
+father asked.
+
+"Why, father, I do not know _anything_. I have only begun things."
+
+"Humph! Not know anything. I suppose you can read and write and cipher?"
+
+"And you can play and sing," added Mrs. Copley.
+
+"Very little, mother."
+
+"And your drawings are beautiful."
+
+"Oh, no, mother! That is one especial thing that I want to do better; a
+great deal better."
+
+"I think they are good enough. And you have music enough. What's the
+use? When you are married you will give it all up."
+
+"My music and my drawing, mother?"
+
+"Yes. Every girl does."
+
+"But I am not going to be married."
+
+"Not just yet,"--said Mr. Copley, drawing the soft arms round his
+neck,--"not just yet, Dolly. But when a girl is known to have so much
+money as you will have, there are sure to be plenty of fellows after
+her. Somebody will catch you up, some of these days."
+
+"Somebody who wants my money, father?"
+
+"Everybody wants money"--Mr. Copley answered evasively.
+
+"They would not come and tell you so, I suppose?"
+
+"Not exactly. That isn't the game."
+
+"Then they would pretend to like me, while they only wanted my money?"
+
+"Mr. Copley, do you think what notions you are putting in Dolly's head?
+Don't you know yet, that whatever you put in Dolly's head, stays
+there?" Mrs. Copley objected.
+
+"I like that," said Dolly's father. "Most girls' heads are like paper
+fly traps--won't hold anything but a fly. Dolly, in the pocket of my
+overcoat that hangs up in the hall, there is something that concerns
+you."
+
+"Which pocket, father?"
+
+"Ay, you've got your head on your shoulders! That's right. In the inner
+breast pocket, my dear. You'll find a small packet, tied up in paper."
+
+Being brought and duly opened, Mr. Copley's fingers took out of a small
+paper box a yet smaller package in silk paper and handed it to Dolly.
+It was a pretty little gold watch.
+
+"Why didn't you wait till you go to Geneva, Mr. Copley?" said his wife.
+"You could have got it cheaper and better there."
+
+"How do you know, my dear, without knowing how much I paid for this, or
+how good it is? I am not going to Geneva, either. Well, Dolly?"
+
+Dolly gave her father a mute kiss, which was expressive.
+
+"_You_ think it will do, then. What will you wear it on? I should have
+thought of that. You must have a chain."
+
+"Oh, I have got a chain!" Dolly cried, and off she ran to fetch it. She
+came back presently with the little box which had been sent her from
+the "Achilles," and sat down by the lamp to put the watch on the chain.
+Her father's eye rested on her as she sat there, and well it might. The
+lamp-light fell among the light loose curls of brown hair, glanced from
+the white brow, showed the delicate flush with which delight had
+coloured her cheeks, and then lit up the little hands which were busy
+with gold and wreathen work of the cable chain. The eyes he could not
+see; the mouth, he thought, with its innocent half smile, was as sweet
+as a mouth could be. Mrs. Copley was looking that way too, but seeing
+somewhat else. Eyes do see in the same picture such different things.
+
+"What have you got there, Dolly?"
+
+"A chain, mother. I am so glad! I never could wear it, before. Now I am
+so glad."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"A chain, mother," said Dolly, holding it up.
+
+"What sort of a chain? Made of what?"
+
+Dolly told her story. Mrs. Copley examined and wondered at the elegance
+of the work. Mr. Copley promised Dolly a chain of gold.
+
+"I do not want it, father. I like this," said Dolly, putting the chain
+round her neck.
+
+"Not better than a gold one?"
+
+"Yes, father, I do."
+
+"Why, child?"
+
+"It reminds me of the time, and of the person that made it; and I like
+it for all that."
+
+"Who was the person? what was his name?"
+
+"A midshipman on the 'Achilles.' His name was Crowninshield."
+
+"A good name," said Mr. Copley.
+
+"Why that was five and a half years ago, child. Did he make such an
+impression on you? Where is he now?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"You have never seen him since?"
+
+"Nor heard of him. I could not even find his name in any of the lists
+of officers of ships, that I saw sometimes in the paper."
+
+"I'll look for it," said Mr. Copley.
+
+But though he was as good as his word, he was no more successful than
+Dolly had been.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+LONDON.
+
+Mrs. Copley did not like London. So she declared after a stay of some
+months had given her, as she supposed, an opportunity of judging. The
+house they inhabited was not in a sufficiently fashionable quarter, she
+complained; and society did not seem to open its doors readily to the
+new American consul.
+
+"I suppose, mother, we have not been here long enough. People do not
+know us."
+
+"What do you call 'long enough'?" said Mrs. Copley with sharp emphasis.
+"And how are people to know us, if they do not come to see us? When
+people are strangers, is the very time to go and make their
+acquaintance; I should say."
+
+"English nature likes to know people before it makes their
+acquaintance," Mr. Copley remarked. "I do not think you have any cause
+to find fault."
+
+"No; you have all _you_ want in the way of society, and you have no
+notion how it is with me. That is men's way. And what do you expect to
+do with Dolly, shut up in this smoky old street? You might think of
+Dolly."
+
+"Dolly, dear," said her father, "are you getting smoked out, like your
+mother? Do you want to go with me and see the Bank of England to-day?"
+
+Dolly made a joyful spring to kiss her thanks, and then flew off to get
+ready; but stopped at the door.
+
+"Won't you go too, mother?"
+
+"And tire myself to death? No, thank you, Dolly. I am not so young as I
+was once."
+
+"You are a very young woman for your years, my dear," said Mr. Copley
+gallantly.
+
+"But I should like to know, Frank," said Mrs. Copley, thawing a little,
+"what you do mean to do with Dolly?"
+
+"Take her to see the Bank of England. It's a wonderful institution."
+
+"You know what I mean, Frank. Don't run away from my question. You have
+society enough, I suppose, of the kind that suits you; but Dolly and I
+are alone, or as near as possible. What is to become of Dolly, shut up
+here in smoke and fog? You should think of Dolly. I can stand it for
+myself."
+
+"There'll be no want of people to think of Dolly."
+
+"If they could see her; but they don't see her. How are they to see
+her?"
+
+"I'll get you a place down in the country, if you like; out of the
+smoke."
+
+"I should like it very much. But that will not help Dolly."
+
+"Yes, it will; help her to keep fresh. I'll get her a pony."
+
+"Mr. Copley, you will not answer me! I am talking of Dolly's prospects.
+You do not seem to consider them."
+
+"How old is Dolly?"
+
+"Seventeen."
+
+"Too young for prospects, my dear."
+
+"Not too young for us to think about it, and take care that she does
+not miss them. Mr. Copley, do you know Dolly is very handsome?"
+
+"She is better than that!" said Mr. Copley proudly. "I understand
+faces, if I don't prospects. There is not the like of Dolly to be seen
+in Hyde Park any day."
+
+"Why don't you take her to ride in the Park then, and let her be seen?"
+
+"Do you want her to marry an Englishman?"
+
+Mrs. Copley was silent, and before she spoke again Dolly came in, ready
+for her expedition.
+
+London was not quite to Dolly the disappointing thing her mother
+declared it. She was at an age to find pleasure in everything from
+which a fine sense could bring it out; and not being burdened with
+thoughts about "prospects," and finding her own and her mother's
+society always sufficient for herself, Dolly went gaily on from day to
+day, like a bee from flower to flower; sucking sweetness in each one.
+She had a large and insatiable appetite for the sight and knowledge of
+everything that was worth seeing or knowing; it followed, that London
+was to her a rich treasure field. She delighted in viewing it under its
+historical aspect; she would study out the associations and the
+chronicled events connected with a particular point; and then, with her
+mind and heart full of the subject, go some day to visit the place with
+her father. What pleasure she took in this way it is impossible to
+tell. Mr. Copley was excessively fond and proud of his daughter, even
+though her mother thought him so careless about her interests; his life
+was a busy one, but from time to time he would spare half a day to give
+to Dolly, and then they went sight-seeing together. Old houses, old
+gateways and courts, old corners and streets, where something had
+happened or somebody had lived that henceforth could never be
+forgotten, how Dolly studied them and hung about them! Mr. Copley
+himself cared for no historical associations, neither could he
+apprehend picturesque effects; what he did care for was Dolly; and for
+her sake he would linger hours, if need were, around some bit of old
+London; and find amusement enough the while in watching Dolly. Dolly
+studied like an antiquary, and dreamed like a romantic girl; and at the
+same time enjoyed fine effects with the true natural feeling of an
+artist; though Dolly was no artist. The sense had not been cultivated,
+but the feeling was born in her. So the British Museum was to her
+something quite beyond fairyland; a region of wonders, where past ages
+went by in procession; or better, stood still for her eyes to gaze upon
+them. The Tower was another place of indescribable fascination. How
+many visits they made to it I dare not say; Dolly never had enough; and
+her delight was so much of a feast to her father that he did not grudge
+the time nor mind what he would have called the dawdling. Indeed it was
+a sort of refuge to Mr. Copley, when business perplexities or
+iterations had fairly wearied him, which sometimes happened; then he
+would flee away from the dust and confusion of present life in the city
+and lose himself with Dolly in the cool shades of the past. That might
+seem dusty to him too; but there was always a fresh spring of life in
+his little daughter which made a green place for him wherever she
+happened to be. So Mr. Copley was as contented with the condition of
+things at this time as it was in his nature to feel. He had enough
+society, as his wife had stated; he had all he wanted in that line; he
+was just as well contented to keep Dolly for the present at home and to
+himself. He did not want her to be snapped up by somebody, he said; and
+if you don't mean to have a fire, you had best not leave matches lying
+about; a sentiment which Mrs. Copley received with great scorn.
+
+It would have, so far, suited the views of both parents, to send Dolly
+to some first-rate boarding school for a year or two. Only, they could
+not do without her. She was the staple of Mrs. Copley's life, and the
+spice of life to her husband. Dolly was kept at home therefore, and
+furnished with masters in music and drawing, and at her pressing
+request, in languages also. And just because she made diligent,
+conscientious use of these advantages and worked hard most of the time,
+Dolly the more richly enjoyed an occasional half day of wandering about
+with her father. She came home from her visit to the Bank of England in
+high glee and with a brave appetite for her late luncheon.
+
+"Well," said Mrs. Copley, watching her,--"now you have tired yourself
+out again; and for what?"
+
+"O mother, it was a very great sight!" said Dolly. "I wish you had been
+along. I think it has given me the best notion of the greatness of
+England that I have got from anything yet."
+
+"Money isn't _everything_," said Mrs. Copley scornfully. "I dare say we
+have just as good banks in America."
+
+"Father says, there is nothing equal to it in the world."
+
+"That is because your father is so taken with everything English. He'd
+be sure to say that. I don't know why a bank in America shouldn't be as
+good as a bank here, or anywhere."
+
+"It isn't that, mother. A bank might be _good_, in one sense; but it
+could not be such a magnificent establishment as this, anywhere but in
+England."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Oh, the abundance of wealth here, mother; and the scale of everything;
+and the superb order and system. English system is something
+beautiful." And Dolly went on to explain to her mother the arrangements
+of the bank, and in especial the order taken for the preservation and
+gradual destruction of the redeemed notes.
+
+"I should like to know what is the use of such things as banks at all?"
+was Mrs. Copley's unsatisfied comment.
+
+"Why mother? don't you know? they make business so much easier, and
+safer."
+
+"I wish there was no such thing as banks, then."
+
+"O mother! Why do you say that?"
+
+"Then your father would maybe let business alone."
+
+"But he is fond of business!"
+
+"I don't think business is fond of him. He gets drawn into a
+speculation here and a speculation there, by some of these people he is
+always with; and some day he will do it once too often. He has enough
+for us all now; if he would only keep to his consul's business and let
+banks alone."
+
+Mrs. Copley looked worried, and Dolly for a moment looked grave; but it
+was her mother's way to talk so.
+
+"Why did he take the consulship?"
+
+"Ask him! Because he would rather be a nobody in England than a
+somebody in America."
+
+"Mother," said Dolly after a pause, "we have an invitation to dinner."
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Father and I."
+
+"Not me!" cried Mrs. Copley. "You and your father, and not your
+father's wife!"
+
+"I suppose the people do not know you, mother, nor know about you; that
+must be the reason."
+
+"How do they know about you, pray?"
+
+"They have seen me. At least one of them has; so father says."
+
+"One of whom?"
+
+"One of the family."
+
+"What family is it?"
+
+"A rich banker's family, father says. Mr. St. Leger."
+
+"St. Leger. That is a good name here."
+
+"They are very rich, father says, and have a beautiful place."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"Some miles out of London; a good many, I think."
+
+"Where is your invitation?"
+
+"Where?--Oh, it is not written. Mr. St. Leger asked father to come and
+bring me."
+
+"And _Mrs._ St. Leger has sent you no invitation, then. Not even a
+card, Dolly?"
+
+"Why no, mother. Was that necessary?"
+
+"It would have been civil," said Mrs. Copley. "It is what she would
+have done to an Englishwoman. I suppose they think we don't know any
+better."
+
+Dolly was silent, and Mrs. Copley presently went on.--"How can you go
+to dinner several miles away? You would have to come back in the night."
+
+"Oh no; we could not do that. Mr. St. Leger asked us to stay over till
+next day."
+
+"It is just like everything else in this miserable country!" Mrs.
+Copley exclaimed. "I wish I was at home!"
+
+"Oh, why, mother? We shall go home by and by; why cannot you enjoy
+things, while we are here?"
+
+"Enjoy what? Staying here in the house and seeing you and your father
+go off to dinners without me? At home I am Mrs. Copley, and it means
+something; here, it seems, I am Mr. Copley's housekeeper."
+
+"But, mother, nobody meant any affront. And you will not see us go off
+and leave you; for I shall stay at home."
+
+"Indeed you will do no such thing! I am not going to have you asked
+anywhere, really asked to a dinner, and not go. You shall go, Dolly.
+But I really think Mr. Copley might have managed to let the people know
+you had a mother somewhere. That's what he would have done, if it
+wasn't for business. It is business that swallows him up; and I don't
+know for my part what life is good for so. Once I had a husband. Now, I
+declare I haven't got anything but you, Dolly."
+
+"Mother, you _have_ me," said the girl, kissing her. And the caress was
+so sweet that it reminded Mrs. Copley how much that one word "Dolly"
+signified; and she was quiet. And when Mr. Copley came home, and the
+subject was discussed anew, she limited herself to inquiries about the
+family and questions concerning Dolly's dress, refraining from all
+complaints on her own score.
+
+"St. Leger?" said Mr. Copley. "Who is he? He's a goodish old fellow;
+sharp as a hawk in business; but he's solid; solid as the Bank. That's
+all there is about him; he is of no great count, except for his money.
+He'll never set the Thames on fire. What did he ask us for?--Humph!
+Well--he and I have had a good deal to do with each other. And then--"
+Mr. Copley paused and his eyes involuntarily went over the table to his
+daughter. "Do you remember, Dolly, being in my office one day, a month
+ago or more, when Mr. St. Leger came in? he and his son?"
+
+Dolly remembered nothing about it; remembered indeed being there, but
+not who came in.
+
+"Well, _they_ remember it," said Mr. Copley.
+
+"Is it a good place for Dolly to go?"
+
+"Dolly? Oh yes. Why not? They have a fine place out of town. Dolly will
+tell you about it when she has been there."
+
+"And what must Dolly wear?" pursued Mrs. Copley.
+
+"Wear? Oh, just what everybody wears. The regular thing, I suppose.
+Dolly may wear what she has a mind to."
+
+"That is just what you know she cannot, Mr. Copley. At home she might;
+but these people here are so very particular."
+
+"About dress? Not at all, my dear. English people let you go your own
+way in that as much as any people on the face of the earth. They do not
+care how you dress."
+
+"They don't _care_, no," said Mrs. Copley; "they don't care if you went
+on your head; but all the same they judge you according to how you look
+and what you do. And us especially because we are foreigners. I don't
+want them to turn up their noses at Dolly because she is an American."
+
+"I'd as lieve they did it for that as for anything," said Dolly
+laughing; "but I hope the people we are going to will know better."
+
+"They _will_ know better, there is no fear," answered her father.
+
+The subject troubled Mrs. Copley's head, however, from that time till
+the day of the dinner; and even after Dolly and her father had driven
+off and were gone, she still debated with herself uneasily whether a
+darker dress would have done better, and whether Dolly ought to have
+had flowers in her hair, to make her very best impression upon her
+entertainers. For Dolly had elected to wear white, and would deck
+herself with no ornament at all, neither ribband nor flower. Mrs.
+Copley half grumbled, yet could not but allow to herself that there was
+nothing to wish for in the finished effect; and Dolly was allowed to
+depart; but as I said, after she was gone, Mrs. Copley went on
+troubling herself with doubts on the question.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+THE PEACOCKS.
+
+No doubts troubled Dolly's mind during that drive, about dress or
+anything else. Her dress she had forgotten indeed; and the pain of
+leaving her mother at home was forced to give way before the multitude
+of new and pleasant impressions. That drive was pure enjoyment. The
+excitement and novelty of the occasion gave no doubt a spur to Dolly's
+spirits and quickened her perceptions; they were all alive, as the
+carriage rolled along over the smooth roads. What could be better than
+to drive so, on such an evening, through such a country? For the
+weather was perfect, the landscape exceedingly rich and fair, the
+vegetation in its glory. And the roads themselves were full of the most
+varied life, and offered to the little American girl a flashing,
+changing, very amusing and abundantly suggestive scene. Dolly's eyes
+were incessantly busy, yet her lips did not move unless to smile; and
+her father for a long time would not interrupt her meditations. Good
+that she should forget herself, he thought; if she were recalled to the
+practical present maybe she would grow nervous. That was the only thing
+Mr. Copley was afraid of. However, for him to keep absolute silence
+beyond a limited time was out of his nature.
+
+"Are you happy, Dolly?" he asked her.
+
+"Very happy, father! If only mother was with us."
+
+"Ah, yes, it would have been rather pleasanter for you; but you must
+not mind that."
+
+"I am afraid I do not mind it enough, I am so amused with everything. I
+cannot help it."
+
+"That's right. Now, Dolly"
+
+"Yes, father"
+
+"I should like to know what you have been thinking of all this while. I
+have been watching the smiles coming and going."
+
+"I do not know that I was thinking at all--until just now; just before
+you spoke."
+
+"And of what then?"
+
+"It came to me, I do not know why, a question. We have passed so many
+people who seemed as if they were enjoying themselves,--like me;--and
+so many pretty-looking places, where people might live happy, one would
+think; and the question somehow came to me, father, what I am going to
+do with my own life?"
+
+"Do with it?" said Mr. Copley astonished; "why enjoy it, Dolly. Every
+day as much as to-day."
+
+"But perhaps one cannot enjoy life always," said Dolly thoughtfully.
+
+"All you can, then, dear; all you can. There is nothing to prevent
+_your_ always enjoying it. You will have money enough; and that is the
+main thing. There is nothing to hinder your enjoying yourself."
+
+"But, father, don't you think one ought to do more with one's life than
+that?"
+
+"Yes; you'll marry one of these days, and so make somebody else enjoy
+himself."
+
+"What would become of you and mother then?" asked Dolly shyly.
+
+"We'd get along," said Mr. Copley. "What we care about, is to see you
+enjoy life, Dolly. Are you enjoying it now, puss?"
+
+"Very much, father."
+
+"Then so am I."
+
+The carriage left the high road here, and Dolly's attention was again,
+seemingly, all bestowed on what she saw from its windows. Her father
+watched her, and could not observe that she was either timid or excited
+in the prospect of the new scenes upon which she was about to enter.
+Her big brown eyes were wide open, busy and interested, at the same
+time wholly self-forgetful. Self-forgetful they remained when arriving
+at the house, and when she was introduced to the family; and her manner
+consequently left nothing to be desired. Yet house and grounds and
+establishment were on a scale to which Dolly hitherto had been entirely
+unaccustomed.
+
+There was a small dinner party gathered, and Dolly was taken in to
+table by young Mr. St. Leger, the son of their host. Dolly had seen
+this gentleman before, and so in this concourse of strangers she felt
+more at home with him than with anybody. Young Mr. St. Leger was a very
+handsome fellow; with regular features and soft, rather lazy, blue
+eyes, which, however, were not insipid. Dolly rather liked him; the
+expression of his features was gentle and good, so were his manners. He
+seemed well pleased with his choice of a companion, and did his best to
+make Dolly pleased also.
+
+"You are new in this part of the world?" he remarked to her.
+
+"I am new in any part of the world," said Dolly, dimpling, as she did
+when something struck her funnily. "I am not very old yet."
+
+"No, I see," said her companion, laughing a little, though in some
+doubt whether he or she had made the fun. "How do you like us? Or
+haven't you been long enough here to judge?"
+
+"I have been in England a good many months."
+
+"Then is it a fair question?"
+
+"All questions are fair," said Dolly. "I like some things here very
+much."
+
+"I should be delighted to know what."
+
+"I'll tell you," said Dolly's father, who sat opposite and had caught
+the question. "She likes an old suit of armour or a collection of old
+stones in the form of an arch or a gateway; and in the presence of the
+crown jewels she was almost as bad as that Scotch lady who worshipped
+the old Regalia of the northern kingdom. Only it was the antiquity that
+Dolly worshipped, you know; not the royalty."
+
+"What is there in antiquity?" said Mr. St. Leger, turning his eyes
+again curiously to Dolly. "Old things were young once; how are they any
+better for being old?"
+
+"Not any better; only more interesting."
+
+"Pray tell me why."
+
+"Think of what those old stones have seen."
+
+"Pardon me; they have not _seen_ anything."
+
+"Think of the eyes that have seen them, then. Or stand before one of
+those old suits of armour in the Tower, and think where it has been.
+Think of the changes that have come; and what a strange witness it is
+for the things that were and have passed away."
+
+
+"I am more interested in the present," said the young man. "I perceive
+you are romantic."
+
+Dolly was silent. She thought one of those halls of old armour in the
+Tower was in its attractions very far beyond the present dinner table;
+although indeed this amused her. Presently her companion began again
+and gave her details about all the guests; who they were, and how they
+happened to be there; and then suddenly asked her if she had ever been
+to the races? Dolly inquired what races; and was informed that the
+Epsom races were just beginning. Would she like to go to them? was
+inquired eagerly.
+
+Dolly had no idea what was the real character of the show she was asked
+about; and she answered in accordance with her general craving to see
+everything. Nevertheless she was somewhat surprised, when the gentlemen
+came up from dinner, to hear the proposition earnestly made; made by
+both Mr. and Mrs. St. Leger; that she and her father should go with
+them the next day to the Epsom races; and she was greatly astonished to
+hear her father agree to the proposal, although the acceptance of it
+involved the staying another day away from home and the sleeping a
+second night at the St. Leger place. But Dolly was not consulted. The
+family expressed their pleasure in undoubted terms, and young Mr. St.
+Leger's blue eyes had a gleam of satisfaction in them, as he assured
+Dolly that now they would "show her something of interest in the
+present."
+
+Dolly was the youngest guest in the house, and by all rules the one
+entitled to least consideration; yet she went to sleep that night in a
+chamber the most superb she had ever inhabited in her life. She looked
+around her with wonder at the richness of every matter of detail, and a
+little private query how _she_, little Dolly Copley, came to be so
+lodged? Her mother would have no reason _here_ to complain of want of
+due regard. And all the evening there had been no such complaint to
+make. People had been very kind, Dolly said to herself as she was
+falling asleep. But how _could_ her father have consented to stay
+another day, for any races in the world--leaving her mother alone? But
+she could not help it; and no doubt the next day would be amusing;
+to-day had been amusing--and Dolly's thoughts went no further.
+
+The next morning everybody drove or rode to the races. Dolly herself
+was taken by young Mr. St. Leger, along with one of his sisters, in an
+elegant little vehicle for which she knew no name. It was very
+comfortable, and they drove very fast--till the crowd hindered them,
+that is; and certainly Dolly was amused. All was novel and strange to
+her; the concourse, the equipages, the people, the horses, even before
+they arrived at the race grounds. There a good position was secured,
+and Dolly saw the whole of that day's performances. Mr. St. Leger
+attended to her unremittingly; he and his sister explained everything,
+and pointed out the people of mark within their range of vision; his
+blue eyes grew quite animated, and looked into Dolly's to see what they
+could find there, of response or otherwise. And Dolly's eyes were grave
+and wide-awake, intent, very busy, very lively, but how far they were
+brightened with pleasure he could not tell. They were bright, he saw
+that; fearless, pure, sweet eyes, that yet baffled him; no trace of
+self-consciousness or self-seeking was to be found in them; and young
+St. Leger stood a little in awe, as common men will, before a face so
+uncommon. He ventured no direct question for the satisfying of his
+curiosity until they had returned, and dinner was over. Indeed he did
+not venture it then; it was his father who asked it. He too had
+observed the simple, well-bred, lovely little maiden, and had a little
+curiosity on his own part.
+
+"Well, Miss Copley--now you have seen Epsom, how do you like it?"
+
+Dolly hesitated. "I have been very much interested, sir, thank you,"
+she said gravely.
+
+"But how do you _like_ it? Did you enjoy it?"
+
+Dolly hesitated again. Finally smiled and confessed. "I was sorry for
+the horses."
+
+"Sorry for the horses!" her host repeated. "What for?"
+
+"Yes, what for?" added the younger St. Leger. "They were not ill
+treated."
+
+"No,--" said Dolly doubtfully, "perhaps not,--but they were running
+very hard, and for nothing."
+
+"For nothing!" echoed Mr. St. Leger again. "It was for a good many
+thousand pounds. There's many a one was there to-day who wishes they
+had run for nothing!"
+
+"But after all, that is for nothing," said Dolly. "It is no good to
+anybody."
+
+"Except to those that win," said the old gentleman. "Except to those
+that win!" Probably _he_ had won.
+
+Dolly wanted to get out of the conversation. She made no answer.
+Another gentleman spoke up, and opined, were it not for the money won
+and lost, the whole thing would fail of its attraction. It would be no
+sport indeed, if the horses ran _for nothing_. "Do you have no races
+in--a--your country?" he asked Dolly.
+
+Dolly believed so. She had never been present at them.
+
+"Nothing like Epsom," said her father. "We shall have nothing to show
+like that for some time. But Dolly takes practical views. I saw her
+smiling out of the windows, as we drove along, coming here yesterday;
+and I asked her what she was thinking of? I expected to hear her say,
+the beauty of the plantations, or the richness of the country, or the
+elegance and variety of the equipages we passed. She answered me she
+was thinking _what she should do with her life!_"
+
+There was a general gentle note of amusement audible through the room,
+but old Mr. St. Leger laughed out in a broad "ha, ha."
+
+"What did you conclude, my dear?" said he. "What did you conclude? I am
+interested to know."
+
+"I could not conclude then, sir," said Dolly, bearing the laugh very
+well, with a pretty little peach-blossom blush coming upon her cheeks.
+
+"'Tisn't difficult to know," the old gentleman went on, not unkindly
+watching Dolly's face play. "There is one pretty certain lot for a
+pretty young woman. She will manage her household, take care of her
+husband, and bring up her children,--one of these days."
+
+"That is not precisely the ambition of all pretty young women,"
+remarked one of the party; while Mrs. St. Leger good humouredly drew
+Dolly down to a seat beside her and engrossed her attention.
+
+"You meant the words perhaps in another sense, more practical, that
+your father did not think of. You were thinking maybe what profession
+you would follow?"
+
+"I beg your pardon, ma'am!" said Dolly, quite perplexed now. "How do
+you mean, profession?"
+
+"Yes; perhaps you were thinking of being a governess some day, or a
+teacher, or something of that sort; were you?"
+
+Dolly's face dimpled all over in a way that seemed to young St. Leger
+the very prettiest, winningest, most uncommon loveliness that his eyes
+had ever been blessed with. Said eyes were inseparable from Dolly; he
+had no attention but for her looks and words; and his mother knew as
+much, while she too looked at the girl and waited for her answer.
+
+"Oh no," Dolly said; "I was not thinking of any such thing. My father
+does not wish me to do anything of the kind."
+
+"Then what _did_ you mean, my dear?"
+
+Dolly lifted a pair of sweet grave eyes to the face of her questioner;
+a full, rather bloated face, very florid; with an expression of eyes
+kindly indeed, but unresting, dissatisfied; or if that is too strong a
+word, not content. Dolly looked at all this and answered--
+
+"I don't want to live merely to live, ma'am."
+
+"Don't you? What more do you want? To live pleasantly, of course; for
+not to do _that_, is not what I call living."
+
+"I was not thinking of pleasant living. But--I do not want my life to
+be like those horses running to-day," said Dolly smiling; "for nothing;
+of no use."
+
+"Don't you think a woman is of use and fills her place, my dear, who
+looks after her household and attends to her family, and does her duty
+by society?"
+
+"Yes," said Dolly hesitating,--"but that is not enough." The girl was
+thinking of her own mother at the moment.
+
+"Not enough? Why, yes, it is enough. That is a woman's place and
+business. What else would you do?"
+
+Dolly was in some embarrassment now. She must answer, for Mrs. St.
+Leger was waiting for it; but her answer could not be understood. Her
+eye took in again the rich appliances for present enjoyment which
+filled the room, above, below, and around her; and then she said, her
+eye coming back--
+
+"I would like my life to be good for something that would not pass
+away."
+
+"Not pass away? Why, everything passes away, my child" (and there came
+a sigh here),--"in time. The thing is to make the best of them while we
+have them."
+
+Is that all? thought Dolly, as she noticed the untested, rather sad
+look of her hostess's face; and she wished she could say more, but she
+dared not. Then young Mr. St. Leger bent forward, and inquired what she
+could be thinking of that would _not_ pass away? His mother saw the
+look with which his blue eyes sought the face of the little stranger;
+and turned away with another sigh, born half of sympathy with her boy's
+feeling and half of jealousy against the subject of it. Dolly saw the
+look too, but did not comprehend it. She simply wondered why these
+people put her through the catechism so?
+
+"What could you be thinking of?" St. Leger repeated, sliding into the
+seat his mother had quitted.
+
+"Don't you know anything that will last?" Dolly retorted.
+
+"No," said the young man, laughing. "Do you? Except that I have heard
+that 'A thing of beauty is a joy forever.'"
+
+This, which was a remarkable flight for St. Leger, was lost upon simple
+Dolly.
+
+"Oh, I know that is true," she answered; "but that is just a way of
+speaking. It would not be a joy to me, if I had not something else to
+hold to. I am sorry for you."
+
+"Really? I wish I could think that. It would be delightful to have you
+sorry for me."
+
+"It would be much better not to need it."
+
+"I don't know about that. Perhaps, if you were very sorry for me, you
+would try to teach me better."
+
+"Perhaps; but I shall not have time. I suppose we shall go away very
+early in the morning."
+
+"I should like to show you the gardens, first."
+
+"Haven't we seen them?"
+
+"Why, of course not. All that you have seen is a little shrubbery and a
+bit of the park. Suppose we go over the gardens in the morning?"
+
+"I am sure we shall return home immediately after breakfast."
+
+"Before breakfast then? Why not?"
+
+This plan went into effect. It was an occasion of great pleasure to
+both parties. No better time could be for seeing the utmost beauty of
+the flowers; and Dolly wandered in what was to her a wilderness of an
+enchanted land. Breakfast was forgotten; and young St. Leger was so
+charmed with this perfectly fresh, simple, and lively nature, that he
+for his part was willing to forget it indefinitely. Dolly's utter
+delight, and her intelligent, quick apprehension, the sparkle in her
+eye, the happy colour in her cheeks, made her to his fancy the rarest
+thing he had ever seen. The gardener, who was summoned to give
+information of which his young master was not possessed, entertained
+quite the same opinion; and thanks to his admiring gratification Dolly
+went back to the house the possessor of a most superb bouquet, which he
+had cut for her and offered through Mr. St. Leger.
+
+There were some significant half smiles around the breakfast table, as
+the young pair and the flowers made their appearance. St. Leger braved
+them; Dolly did not see them. Her sweet eyes were full of the blissful
+enchantment still. Immediately after breakfast, as she had said, her
+father took leave.
+
+Mrs. Copley had awaited their coming in a mood half irritation, half
+gratification. The latter conquered when she saw Dolly.
+
+"Now tell me all about it!" she said, before Dolly even could take off
+her bonnet.
+
+"She went to the races," said Mr. Copley.
+
+"That's a queer place for Dolly to go, Mr. Copley."
+
+"Not at all. Everybody goes that can go."
+
+"I think it's a queer place for young ladies to go," persisted the
+mother.
+
+"It is a queer place enough for anybody, if you come to that; but no
+worse for them than for others; and it is they make the scene so pretty
+as it is."
+
+"I can't imagine how there should be anything pretty in seeing horses
+run to death!" said Mrs. Copley.
+
+"I just said it is the pretty girls that give the charm," said her
+husband. "Though _I_ can see some beauty in a fine horse, and in good
+riding; and they understand riding, those Epsom jockeys."
+
+"Jockeys!" his wife repeated. "I don't want to hear you talk about
+jockeys, Mr. Copley."
+
+"I am not going to, my dear. I give up the field to Dolly."
+
+"Mother, the first thing was the place. It is a most beautiful place."
+
+"The race-ground?"
+
+"No, no, mother; Mr. St. Leger's place. 'The Peacocks,' they call it."
+
+"What do they give it such a ridiculous name for?"
+
+"I don't know. Perhaps they used to have a great many peacocks. But the
+place is the most beautiful place I ever saw. Mother, we were half an
+hour driving from the lodge at the park gate to the house."
+
+"The road so bad?"
+
+"So _long_, mother; think of it; half an hour through the park woods,
+until we carne out upon the great lawn dotted with the noblest trees
+you ever saw."
+
+"Better than the trees in Boston common? I guess not," said Mrs. Copley.
+
+"Those are good trees, mother, but nothing to these. These are just
+magnificent."
+
+"I don't see why fine trees cannot grow as well on American ground as
+on English," said Mrs. Copley incredulously.
+
+"Give them time enough," put in her husband.
+
+"Time!"
+
+"Yes. We are a new country, comparatively, my dear. These old oaks here
+have been growing for hundreds of years."
+
+"And what should hinder them from growing hundreds of years over there?
+I suppose the _ground_ is as old as England; if Columbus didn't
+discover it all at once."
+
+"The ground," said Mr. Copley, eyeing the floor between his
+boots,--"yes, the ground; but it takes more than ground to make large
+trees. It takes good ground, and favouring climate, and culture; or at
+least to be let alone. Now we don't let things alone in America."
+
+"I know _you_ don't," said his wife. "Well, Dolly, go on with your
+story."
+
+"Well, mother,--there were these grand old trees, and beautiful grass
+under them, and cattle here and there, and the house showing in the
+distance. I did not like the house so very much, when we came to it; it
+is not old; but it is exceedingly handsome, and most beautifully
+furnished. I never had such a room in my life, as I have slept in these
+two nights."
+
+"And yet you don't like it!" put in Mr. Copley.
+
+"I like it," said Dolly slowly. "I like all the comfort of it; but I
+don't think it is very pretty, father. It's very _new_."
+
+"New!" said her father. "What's the harm of a thing's being new? And
+what is the charm of its being old?"
+
+"I don't know," said Dolly thoughtfully; "but I like it. Then, mother,
+came the dinner; and the dinner was like the house."
+
+"That don't tell me anything," exclaimed Mrs. Copley. "What was the
+house like?"
+
+"Mother, you go first into a great hall, set all round with marble
+figures--statues--and with a heavy staircase going up at one side. It's
+all marble. But oh, the flower garden is lovely!"
+
+"Well, tell me about the house," said Mrs. Copley. "And the dinner. Who
+was there?"
+
+"I don't know," said Dolly; "quite a company. There were one or two
+foreign gentlemen; a count somebody and a baron somebody; there was an
+English judge, and his wife, and two or three other ladies and
+gentlemen."
+
+"How did you like the gentlemen, Dolly?" her father asked here.
+
+"I had hardly anything to do with them, except the two Mr. St. Legers."
+
+"How did you like _them?_ I suppose, on your principle, you would tell
+me that you liked the _old_ one?"
+
+"Never mind them," said Mrs. Copley; "go on about the dinner. What did
+you have?"
+
+"Oh, everything, mother; and the most beautiful fruit at dessert; fruit
+from their own hothouses; and I saw the hothouses, afterwards. Most
+beautiful! the purple and white grapes were hanging in thick clusters
+all over the vines; and quantities of different sorts of pines were
+growing in another hothouse. I had a bunch of Frontignacs this morning
+before breakfast, father; and I never had grapes taste so good."
+
+"Yes, you must have wanted something," said Mr. Copley; "wandering
+about among flowers and fruit till ten o'clock without anything to eat!"
+
+"Poor Mr. St. Leger!" said Dolly. "But he was very kind. They were all
+very kind. If they only would not drink wine so!"
+
+"Wine!" Mrs. Copley exclaimed.
+
+"It was all dinner time; it began with the soup, and it did not end
+with the fruit, for the gentlemen sat on drinking after we had left
+them. And they had been drinking all dinner time; the decanters just
+went round and round."
+
+"Nonsense, Dolly!" her father said; "you are unaccustomed to the world,
+that is all. There was none but the most moderate drinking."
+
+"It was all dinner time, father."
+
+"That is the custom of gentlemen here. It is always so. Tell your
+mother about the races."
+
+"I don't like the races."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Well, tell me what they were, at any rate," said Mrs. Copley. "It is
+the least you can do."
+
+"I don't know how to tell you," said Dolly. "I will try. Imagine a
+great flat plain, mother, level as far as the eye can see. Imagine a
+straight line marked out, where the horses are to run; and at the end
+of it a post, which is the goal, and there is the judges' stand. All
+about this course, on both sides, that is towards the latter part of
+the course, fancy rows of carriages, drawn up as close as they can
+stand, the horses taken out; and on these carriages a crowd of people
+packed as thick as they can find room to sit and stand. They talk and
+laugh and discuss the horses. By and by you hear a cry that the horses
+have set off; and then everybody looks to see them coming, with all
+sorts of glasses and telescopes; and everybody is still, waiting and
+watching, until I suppose the horses get near enough for people to
+begin to judge how the race will turn out; and then begins the
+fearfullest uproar you ever heard, everybody betting and taking bets.
+_Everybody_ seemed to be doing it, even ladies. And with the betting
+comes the shouting, and the cursing, and the cheering on this one and
+that one; it was a regular Babel. Even the ladies betted."
+
+"Every one does it," said Mr. Copley.
+
+"And the poor horses come running, and driven to run as hard as they
+can; beautiful horses too, some of them; running to decide all those
+bets! I don't think it is an amusement for civilised people."
+
+"Why not?" said her father.
+
+"It is barbarous. There is no sense in it. If the white horse beats the
+black, I'll pay you a thousand pounds; but if the black horse beats the
+white, you shall pay me two thousand. Is there any sense in that?"
+
+"Some sense in a thousand pound."
+
+"Lost"--said Dolly.
+
+"It is better not to lose, certainly."
+
+"But somebody must lose. And people bet in a heat, before they know
+what they ought to say; and bet more than they have to spare; I saw it
+yesterday."
+
+"_You_ didn't bet, Mr. Copley?" said his wife.
+
+"A trifle. My dear, when one is in Rome, one must do as the Romans do."
+
+"Did you lose?"
+
+"I gained, a matter of fifty pounds."
+
+"Who did you gain it from, father?"
+
+"Lawrence St. Leger."
+
+"He has no right to bet with his father's money."
+
+"Perhaps it is his own. I will give you twenty pound of it, Dolly, to
+do what you like with."
+
+But Dolly would have none of it. If it was to be peace money, it made
+no peace with her.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+BRIERLEY COTTAGE.
+
+A few months later than this, it happened one day that Mr. Copley was
+surprised in his office by a visit from young St. Leger. Mr. Copley was
+sitting at a table in his own private room. It was not what you would
+call a very comfortable room; rather bare and desolate looking; a
+carpet and some chairs and desks and a table being the only furniture.
+The table was heaped up with papers, and desks and floor alike
+testified to an amount of heterogeneous business. Busy the Consul
+undoubtedly was, writing and studying; nevertheless, he welcomed his
+visitor. The young man came in like an inhabitant of another world, as
+he was; in spotlessly neat attire, leisurely manner, and with his blue
+eyes sleepily nonchalant at the sight of all the stir of all the world.
+But they smiled at Mr. Copley.
+
+"You seem to have your bands full," he remarked.
+
+"Rather. Don't I? Awfully! Secretary taken sick--confoundedly
+inconvenient." Mr. Copley went on writing as he spoke.
+
+"There are plenty of secretaries to be had."
+
+"Yes, but I haven't got hold of 'em yet. What brings you here,
+Lawrence? Not business, I suppose?"
+
+"Not business with the American Consul."
+
+"No. I made out so much by myself. What is it? I see all's right with
+you, by your face."
+
+"Thank you. Quite so. But you can't attend to me just now."
+
+"Go ahead," said Mr. Copley, whose pen did not cease to scribble. "I
+can hear. No time for anything like the present minute. I've got _this_
+case by heart, and don't need to think about it. Go on, Lawrence. Has
+your father sent you to me?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Sit down, and tell me what I can do for you."
+
+Mr. St. Leger sat down, but did not immediately comply with the rest of
+the invitation. He rested his elbow on the table, looked at Mr.
+Copley's pen for a few minutes, and said nothing; until Mr. Copley
+again glanced up at his face.
+
+"I do not know that you can do anything for me," said the young man
+then; "only you can perhaps answer a question or two. Mr. Copley, would
+you like to have me for a son-in-law?"
+
+"No," said the Consul shortly; "nor any other man. I'd as lieve have
+you as anybody, Lawrence."
+
+"Thank you. I couldn't expect more. But you must allow somebody in that
+capacity, Mr. Copley."
+
+"Must I? Depends on how much Dolly likes somebody."
+
+"That is just what I want to find out about myself," said the young man
+eagerly. "Then you would not put any hindrance?"
+
+"In the way of Dolly's happiness? Not if I know it. But _that's_ got to
+be proved."
+
+"You know, Mr. Copley, she would be happy with me."
+
+"How do I know that? I know nothing of the kind. It all depends on
+Dolly, I tell you. What does she think about it?"
+
+"That's just what I don't know and cannot find out. I have no chance. I
+cannot get sight of her."
+
+"Her mother's sick, you see. It keeps Dolly at home."
+
+"My mother has proposed several times to take Miss Copley out with her,
+and she will not go."
+
+"She's very kind, and we are grateful; but Dolly won't leave her
+mother."
+
+"So she says. Then how am I to see her, Mr. Copley? I can't expect her
+to like me if I never see her."
+
+"I don't know, my boy. Wait till better times."
+
+"Wait" is a word that lovers never want to hear; and Lawrence sat
+discontentedly watching the play of Mr. Copley's pen.
+
+"You know it would be all right about the money," he said at length.
+
+"Yes, yes; between your father and her father, I guess we could make it
+comfortable for you two. But the thing is all the while, what Dolly
+thinks of you."
+
+"And how am I to find that out?"
+
+"Can't tell, I declare. Unless you volunteer to become my secretary."
+
+"Does your secretary live in your family?"
+
+"Of course he does. One of us completely."
+
+"Will you take me, Mr. Copley?"
+
+"Yes, but you would never take the drudgery. It is not in your line."
+
+"Try me," said the young man. "I'll take it at once. Will you have me,
+Mr. Copley? But _she_ must not know what you take me for. I don't care
+for the drudgery. Will you let me come? On trial?"
+
+"Why is the boy in earnest? This is Jacob and Rachel over again!"
+
+"Not for seven years, I hope."
+
+"No, I shall not stay in this old crib as long as that. The question
+will have to be decided sooner. We haven't so much time to spare as
+those old patriarchs. But Dolly must have time to make up her mind, if
+it takes seven years. She is a queer little piece, and usually has a
+mind of her own. About this affair she certainly will. I'll give Mrs.
+Copley a hint to keep quiet, and Dolly will never suspect anything."
+
+Lawrence was so thoroughly in earnest that he insisted on going to work
+at once. And the next day he was introduced at the house and made at
+home there.
+
+It was quite true that Mrs. Copley was unwell; the doctors were not yet
+agreed as to the cause. She was feeble and nervous and feverish, and
+Dolly's time was wholly devoted to her. In these circumstances St.
+Leger's coming into the family made a very pleasant change. Dolly
+wondered a little that the rich banker's son should care to do business
+in the American Consul's office; but she troubled her head little about
+it. What he did in the office was out of her sphere; at home, in the
+family, he was a great improvement on the former secretary. Mr. Barr,
+his predecessor, had been an awkward, angular, taciturn fourth person
+in the house; a machine of the pen; nothing more. Mr. St. Leger brought
+quite a new life into the family circle. It is true, he was himself no
+great talker; but his blue eyes were eloquent. They were beautiful
+eyes; and they spoke of kindness of heart, gentleness of disposition,
+and undoubted liking for his present companions. There was refinement
+too, and the habit of the world, and the power of comprehending at
+least what others spoke; and gentle as he was, there was also now and
+then a gleam which showed some fire and some persistent self-will; that
+amount of backbone without which a man's agreeable qualities go for
+nothing with women. It was pleasant, his respectful attention to Mrs.
+Copley; it was pleasant too the assistance he was to Mr. Copley's
+monologues; if he did not say a great deal himself, his blue eyes gave
+intelligent heed, and he could also now and then say a word in the
+right place. With Dolly he took very soon the familiar habit of a
+brother. She liked him, she liked to pour out his coffee for him, it
+amused her to hear her father talk to him, she was grateful for his
+kindness to her mother; and before long the words exchanged between
+themselves came in the easy, enjoyable tone of a thorough good
+understanding. I don't know but St. Leger would have liked a little
+more shyness on her part. Dolly was not given to shyness in any
+company; and as to being shy with him, she would as soon have thought
+of being on terms of ceremony with Berdan, the great hound that her
+father was so proud of. And poor St. Leger was more hopelessly in love
+every day. Dolly was so fresh and cool and sweet, as she came down to
+breakfast in her white wrapper; she was so despairingly careless and
+free; and at evening, dressed for dinner, she was so quiet and simple
+and graceful; it was another thing, he said to himself, seeing a girl
+in this way, from dancing with her in a cloud of lace and flowers in a
+crowded room, and talking conventional nothings. Now, on the contrary,
+he was always admiring Dolly's practical business ways; the quick eye
+and capable hand; the efficient attention she bestowed on the affairs
+of the household and gave to her father's and mother's comfort, and
+also not less to his own. And she was quaint; she moved curiosity. With
+all her beauty, she never seemed to think of her looks; and with all
+her spirit and sense, she never seemed to talk but when she had
+something to say; while yet, if anything in the conversation deserved
+it, it was worth while to catch the sparkle of Dolly's eye and see her
+face dimple. Nevertheless, she would often sit for a long time silent
+at the table, when others were talking, and remind nobody voluntarily
+of her presence.
+
+Spring had come now, and London was filling; and Lawrence was hoping
+for some gaieties that would draw Dolly out into society,
+notwithstanding his secret confession about ball rooms. He wanted to
+see how she would bear the great world, how she would meet it; but
+still more he hoped to have some chance to make himself of importance
+to her. And then the doctors decided that Mrs. Copley must go into the
+country.
+
+What was to be done? Mr. Copley could not quit London without giving up
+his office. To any distance Mrs. Copley could not go without him. The
+dilemma, which Lawrence at first had heard of with dismay, turned for
+his advantage; or he hoped so. His father owned a cottage in a pretty
+part of the country, not a great many miles from London, which cottage
+just then was untenanted. Mr. Copley could run down there any day (so
+could he); and Mrs. Copley would be in excellent air, with beautiful
+surroundings. This plan was agreed to, and Lawrence hurried away to
+make the needful arrangements with his father and at the cottage.
+
+"Oh dear!" said Mrs. Copley, when all this was communicated to
+her,--"why can't we go home?"
+
+"Father is not ready for that, mother," Dolly said somewhat sadly.
+
+"Where is this place you are talking of?"
+
+"Down in Berkshire. Mr. St. Leger says you will be sure to like it."
+
+"Mr. St. Leger doesn't know everything. Is the house furnished?"
+
+"I believe so. Oh, I hope it will be very pleasant, mother dear. It's a
+pretty place; and they say it will be very good for you."
+
+"Who says so?"
+
+"The doctors"
+
+"_They_ don't know everything, either. I tell you what I believe would
+do me good, Dolly, only your father never wants what I want, unless he
+wants it at a different time; I should like to go travelling."
+
+"Travelling!--Where?" Dolly exclaimed and inquired.
+
+"Anywhere. I want a change. I am so tired of London, I could die! I
+have swallowed dust and fog enough to kill me. I should like to go
+where there is no dust. That would be a change. I should like to go to
+Venice."
+
+"Venice! So should I," said Dolly in a changed tone. "Well, mother,
+we'll go down first to this cottage in the country--they say it's
+delightful there;--and then, if it does you good, you'll be well
+enough, and we will coax father to take us to Italy."
+
+"I don't care about Italy. I only want to be quiet in Venice, where
+there are no carts or omnibusses. I don't believe this cottage will do
+me one bit of good."
+
+"Mother, I guess it will. At any rate, I suppose we must try."
+
+"I wish your father could have been contented at home, when he was well
+off. It's very unlucky he ever brought us here. I don't see what is to
+become of you, for my part."
+
+Dolly suppressed a sigh at this point.
+
+"You know what the Bible says, mother. 'All things shall work together
+for good, to them that love God.'"
+
+"I don't want to hear that sort of talk, Dolly."
+
+"Why not, mother?"
+
+"It don't mean anything. I would rather have people show their religion
+in their lives, than hear them talk about it."
+
+"But, mother, isn't there comfort in those words?"
+
+"No. It ain't true."
+
+"O mother! _What_ isn't true?"
+
+"That. There is a difference between things, and there is no use trying
+to make out they're all alike. Sour isn't sweet, and hard ain't soft.
+What's the use of talking as if it was? I always like to look at things
+just as they are."
+
+"But, mother!"--
+
+"Now, don't talk, Dolly, but just tell me. What is the good of my
+getting sick just now? just now, when you ought to be going into
+company? And we have got to give up our house, and you and I go and
+bury ourselves down in some out-of-the-way place, and your father get
+along as he can; and how we shall get along without him to manage, I am
+sure I don't know."
+
+"He will run down to see us often, mother."
+
+"The master's eye wants to be all the while on the spot, if anything is
+to keep straight."
+
+"But this is such a little spot; I think my eye can manage it."
+
+"Then how are you going to take care of me?--if you are overseeing the
+place. And I don't believe my nerves are going to stand it, all alone
+down there. It'll be lonely. I'd rather hear the carts rattle. It's
+dreadful, to hear nothing."
+
+"Well, we will try how it goes, mother; and if it does not go well, we
+will try somewhere else."
+
+The house in town was given up, and Mr. Copley moved into lodgings.
+Some furniture and two servants were sent down to the cottage; but the
+very day when the ladies were to follow, Mr. Copley was taken
+possession of by some really important business. The secretary
+volunteered to supply his place; and in his company Mrs. Copley and
+Dolly made the little journey, one warm summer day.
+
+Dolly had her own causes for anxiety, the weightier that they must be
+kept to herself. Nevertheless, the influence of sweet nature could not
+be withstood. The change from city streets and crowds to the green
+leafiness of June in the country, the quiet of unpaved roads, the
+deliciousness of the air full of scents from woodland and field,
+excited Dolly like champagne. Every nerve thrilled with delight; her
+eyes could not get enough, nor her lungs. And when they arrived at the
+cottage, Brierley Cottage it was called, she was filled with a glad
+surprise. It was no common, close, musty, uncomfortable little
+dwelling; but a roomy old house with plenty of space, dark oak
+wainscotings, casement windows with little diamond panes, and a wide
+porch covered with climbing roses and honeysuckle. These were in
+blossom now, and the air was perfumed with their incomparable
+sweetness. Round the house lay a small garden ground, which having been
+some time without care looked pretty wild.
+
+Dolly uttered her delight as the party entered the porch. Mrs. Copley
+passed on silently, looking at everything with critical eyes.
+
+"What a charming old house, mother! so airy and so old-fashioned, and
+_everything_ so nice."
+
+"I am afraid there is not much furniture in it," remarked the secretary.
+
+"We don't want much, for two people," said Dolly gaily.
+
+"But when your father brings a dinner party down," said Mrs. Copley;
+"how does he suppose we shall manage then? You must have chairs for
+people to sit on."
+
+Dolly did not answer; it had struck her that her father had no
+intention of bringing dinner parties down, and that he had made his
+arrangements with an evident exclusion of any such idea. He had thought
+two women servants enough. For the rest, leaving parties out of
+consideration, the house had a rambling supply of old furniture,
+suiting it well enough; it looked pretty, and quaint, and cool; and
+Dolly for her part was well content.
+
+They went over the place, taking a general survey; and then Mrs. Copley
+lay down on a lounge while supper was getting ready, and Dolly and Mr.
+St. Leger went out to the porch. Here, beyond the roses and
+honeysuckles, the eye found first the wild garden or pleasure ground.
+There was not much of it, and it was a mere tangle of what had once
+been pretty and sweet. It sloped, however, down to a little stream
+which formed the border of the property; and on the other side of this
+stream the ground rose in a grassy bank, set with most magnificent oaks
+and beeches. A little foot-bridge spanned the stream and made a
+picturesque point in the view, as a bridge always does. The sun was
+setting, throwing his light upon that grassy bank and playing in the
+branches of the great oaks and beeches. Dolly stood quite still, with
+her hands crossed upon her bosom, looking.
+
+"The garden has had nothing done to it," said St. Leger. "That won't
+do. It's quite distressing."
+
+"I suppose father never thought of engaging a gardener," said Dolly.
+
+"We have gardeners to spare, I am sure, at home. I'll send over one to
+train those vines and put things in some shape. You'd find him useful,
+too, about the house. I'll send old Peters; he can come as well as not."
+
+"Oh, thank you! But I don't know whether father would choose to afford
+a gardener," said Dolly low.
+
+"He shall not afford it. I want him to come for my own comfort. You do
+not think I want your father to pay my gardener."
+
+"You are very kind. What ground is that over there?"
+
+"That? that is Brierley Park. It is a great place. The stream divides
+the park from this cottage ground."
+
+"Can one go over the bridge?"
+
+"Of course. The place is left to itself; nobody is at the house now."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I suppose they like some other place better," said St. Leger,
+shrugging his shoulders. "You would like to go and see the house and
+the pictures. The next time I come down I'll take you there."
+
+"Oh, thank you! And may I go over among those grand trees? may I walk
+there?"
+
+"Walk there, or ride there; you may do what you like; nobody will
+hinder you. If you meet anybody that has a right to know, you can tell
+him who you are. But don't go to the house till I come to go with you."
+
+"You are very good, Mr. St. Leger," said Dolly gratefully. But then, as
+if shy of what he might next say, she turned and went in to her mother.
+Dolly always kept Mr. St. Leger at a certain fine, insensible distance.
+He seemed to be very near; he was really very much at home in the
+family; nevertheless, an atmospheric wall, felt but not seen, divided
+him from Dolly. It was so invisible that it was unmanageable; it kept
+him at a distance.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+IN THE PARK.
+
+The next day was a delightful one in Dolly's experience. Mr. St. Leger
+went back to town early in the morning; and as soon as she was free of
+him, Dolly's delight began. She attended to her mother, and put her in
+comfort; next, she examined the house and its capabilities, and
+arranged the little household; and then she gave herself to the garden.
+It was an unmitigated wilderness. The roses had grown into irregular,
+wide-spreading shrubs, with waving, flaunting branches; yet sweet with
+their burden of blushing flowers. Lilac bushes had passed all bounds,
+and took up room most graspingly. Hawthorn and eglantine, roses of
+Sharon and stocky syringas, and other bushes and climbers, had entwined
+and confused their sprays and branches, till in places they formed an
+impenetrable mass. In other places, and even in the midst of this
+overgrown thicket, jessamine stars peeped out, lilies and violets grew
+half smothered, mignonette ran along where it could; even carnations
+and pinks were to be seen, in unhappy situations, and daisies and
+larkspur and scarlet geraniums, lupins and sweet peas, and I know not
+what more old-fashioned flowers, showed their fair faces here and
+there. It was bewildering, and beyond Dolly's powers to put in order.
+She wished for old Peter's arrival; and meantime cut and trimmed a
+little here and there, gathered a nosegay of wildering blossoms,
+considered what might be done, and lost herself in the sweet June day.
+
+At last it was growing near lunch time, and she went in. Mrs. Copley
+was lying on an old-fashioned lounge; and the room where she lay was
+brown with old oak, quaint with its diamond-paned casement windows, and
+cool with a general effect of wooden floor and little furniture; while
+roses looked in at the open window, and the light was tempered by the
+dark panelling and low ceiling. Dolly gave an exclamation of delight.
+
+"What is it?" said Mrs. Copley fretfully.
+
+"Mother, this place is so lovely! and this room,--do you know how
+perfectly pretty it is?"
+
+"It isn't half furnished. Not half."
+
+"But it is furnished enough. There are only two of us; and certainly
+here are all the things that we want, and a great deal more than we
+want; and it is so pretty! so pretty!"
+
+"How long do you suppose there are to be only two of us?"
+
+"I don't know that, mother. Lawrence St. Leger is just gone, and I
+don't want him back, for my part. In fact, I don't believe we have
+dinner enough for three."
+
+"That's another thing. Where are we going to get anything to eat?"
+
+"Lunch will be ready in a minute, mother."
+
+"What have we got?"
+
+"What you like. Frizzled beef and chocolate."
+
+"I like it,--but I don't suppose it is very nourishing. Where are we to
+get what we want, Dolly? how are we to get bread, and butter, and
+marketing?"
+
+"There's a village half a mile off. And, here is lunch on the table. We
+shall not starve to-day."
+
+Mrs. Copley liked her chocolate and found the bread good. Nevertheless,
+she presently began again.
+
+"Are we to live here alone the rest of our lives, Dolly? or what do you
+suppose your father's idea is? It's a very lonesome place, seems to me."
+
+"Why, mother, we came here to get you well; and it's enough to make
+anybody well. It is the loveliest place I have ever seen, I think. Mr.
+St. Leger's grand establishment is nothing to it."
+
+"And what do you mean by what you said about Lawrence St. Leger? Are
+you glad to have even _him_ go away?"
+
+"Yes, mother, a little bit. He was rather in my way."
+
+"In your way! that's very ungrateful. How was he in your way?"
+
+"Somebody to attend to, and somebody to attend to me. I like to be let
+alone. By and by, when you are sleeping, I shall go over and explore
+the park."
+
+"What I don't understand," said Mrs. Copley, recurring to her former
+theme, "is, why, if he wanted me to be in the country, your father did
+not take a nice house somewhere just a little way out of London,--there
+are plenty of such places,--and have things handsome; so that he could
+entertain company, and we could see somebody. We can have nobody here.
+It looks really quite like poor people."
+
+"That isn't a very bad way to look," said Dolly calmly.
+
+"_Not?_ Like poor people?" cried Mrs. Copley. "Dolly, don't talk folly.
+Nobody likes that look, and you don't, either."
+
+"I am not particularly afraid of it. But, mother, we do not want to
+entertain company while you are not well, you know."
+
+"No; and so here you are shut up and seeing no creature. I wish we were
+at home!"
+
+Dolly did not precisely wish that; not at least till she had had time
+to examine this new leaf of nature's book opened to her. And yet she
+sighed a response to her mother's words. It was all the response she
+made.
+
+She was too tired with her unwonted gardening exertions to go further
+exploring that afternoon. It was not till a day or two later, when
+Dolly had become somewhat more acquainted with her new life and its
+conditions, that she crossed the bridge one fair, warm June evening,
+and set her hesitating steps upon what seemed to her a wonderful piece
+of ground. She entered it immediately upon crossing the bridge. The
+green glades of the park woods were before her; the old giants of the
+park trees stretched their great arms over her and shadowed her
+footsteps. Such mighty trees! their great stems stood as if they had
+been there for ever; the leafy crown of their heads was more majestic
+than any king's diadem, and gave its protecting shelter, each of them,
+to a wide domain of earth's minor growths. Underneath their branches
+the turf was all green and gold, for the slant sun rays came in there
+and gold was in the tree tops, some of the same gold; and the green
+shadows and the golden bands and flecks of light were all still. There
+was no stir of air that evening. Silence, the stillness and solitude of
+a woodland, were all around; the only house visible from here was the
+cottage Dolly had just quitted, with its rose-covered porch.
+
+Dolly went a little way, and stood still to look and listen, then went
+on a few steps more. The scene had a sort of regal beauty, not like
+anything she had ever known in her life before, and belonging to
+something her life had never touched. For this was not a primeval
+forest; it was not forest at all; it was a lordly pleasure ground. A
+"pleasaunee," for somebody's delight; kept so. There was no ragged
+underbrush; there were no wildering bushes and briars; the green turf
+swept away out of sight under the great old trees clean and soft; and
+they, the oaks and beeches, stretching their arms abroad and standing
+in still beauty and majesty, seemed to say--"Yes, we belong to the
+family; we have stood by it for ages." Dolly could see no dead trees,
+nor fallen lumber of dry branches; the place was dressed, yet
+unadorned, except by its own magnificent features; so most simple, most
+lordly. The first impression almost took away Dolly's breath. She again
+went on, and again stood still, then went further; at last could go no
+further, and she sat down on the bank under the shadow of a great oak
+tree which had certainly seen centuries, and gave herself up to the
+scene and her thoughts. They did not fit, somehow, and took possession
+of her alternately. Sometimes her eyes filled with glad tears, at the
+wonderful loveliness and stateliness of nature around her; the sense of
+beauty overcame all other feelings; filling and satisfying and also
+concealing a certain promise. It was certainly the will of the Creator
+that all things should be thus perfect, harmonious, and fair. What was
+not, could be made so. But then again a shadow would come over this
+sunshine, as Dolly remembered the anxieties she had brought from home
+with her. She had meant to let herself look at them here, in solitude
+and quiet; could she do it, now she was here? But when, if not now?
+Gradually Dolly gave herself up to thinking, and forgot where she was,
+or more correctly, saw the objects around her only through a veil of
+her own thoughts.
+
+She had several anxieties; she was obliged to confess it to herself
+unwillingly; for indeed anxiety was so new to Dolly that she had hardly
+entertained it in all her life before; and when it had knocked at her
+door, she had answered that it came to the wrong place. However, she
+could not but hear and heed the knock now; and she wanted to consider
+the matter calmly and see whether the unwelcome visitor must be really
+taken in, and lodged.
+
+It was not her mother's condition. With the buoyancy of youth, and the
+inexperience, Dolly expected that Mrs. Copley would soon get well. Her
+trouble was about her father; and the worst thing about her mother's
+state of nervous weakness was, that she could not talk to her on the
+subject or get her help and co-operation. That is, if anything were to
+be attempted to be done in the matter.--That was another question she
+wanted to consider.
+
+In the first place, she could not help seeing one thing; that Mr.
+Copley was not flush with money as he used to be; as he had always
+been, ever since Dolly could remember. It was wholly unlike him, to
+send her and her mother down to this cottage with a household of two
+women servants; barely enough for the work that was indispensably
+necessary. Evidently, Mr. Copley entertained no idea of showing
+hospitality here in the country, and Dolly thought he had been secretly
+glad to be relieved of the necessity of doing it in town. Very unlike
+him. It was unlike him, too, to content his pride with so meagre an
+establishment. Mr. Copley loved to handle money, always spent it with a
+lavish carelessness, and was rather fond of display. What had made this
+change? Dolly had felt the change in still other and lesser things.
+Money had not been immediately forthcoming when she asked for it lately
+to pay her mantua maker's bill; and she had noticed on several
+occasions that her father had taken a 'bus instead of a hansom, or even
+had chosen to walk. A dull doubt had been creeping over her, which now
+was no longer obscure, but plainly enough revealed; her father had lost
+money. How, and where?
+
+Impossible to answer this question. But at the same time there floated
+before Dolly's mind two vague images; Epsom and betting,--and a green
+whist table at Mr. St. Leger's, with eager busy players seated round
+it. True, the Derby came but once a year; and true, she had always
+heard that whist was a very gentlemanly game and much money never lost
+at it. She repeated those facts to herself, over and over. Yet the
+images remained; they came before her again and again; her father
+betting eagerly in the crowd of betters on the race course, and the
+same beloved figure handling the cards opposite to his friend the
+banker, at the hospitable mansion of the latter. Who should be her
+guaranty, that a taste once formed, though so respectably, might not be
+indulged in other ways and companies not so irreproachable? The more
+Dolly allowed herself to think of it, the more the pain at her heart
+bit her. And another fear came to help the former, its fit and
+appropriate congener. With the image of Mr. St. Leger and his cards,
+rose up also the memory of Mr. St. Leger's decanters; and Dolly lowered
+her head once in a convulsion of fear. She found she could not bear the
+course of her thought; it must be interrupted; and she sprang up and
+hurried on up the bank under the great trees, telling herself that it
+was impossible; that anything so terrible could not happen to her; it
+was not to be even so much as thought of. She cast it away from her,
+and resolved that it could not be. As to the rest, she thought, poverty
+is not disgrace; she would not break her heart about _that_ till she
+knew there was more reason.
+
+So with flying foot she hastened forward, willing to put a forcible
+stop to thought by her quick motion and the new succession of objects
+before her eyes. Yet they were not very new for a while. The ground
+became level and the going grew easier; otherwise it was the same
+lovely park ground, the same wilderness of noble trees, a renewal of
+the same woodland views. Lovely green alleys or glades opened to right
+and left, bidding her to enter them; then as she went on the trees
+stood thicker again. The sun getting more low sent his beams more
+slant, gilding the sides of the great trunks, tipping the ends of
+branches with leafy glitter, laying lovely lines of light over the
+turf. Dolly wandered on and on, allured by the continual change and
+variety of lovely combination in which grass, trees, and sunlight
+played before her eyes. But after a while the beauty took a different
+cast. The old oaks and beeches ceased; she found herself among a
+lighter growth, of much younger trees, some of them very ornamental,
+and in the great diversity of kinds showing that they were a modern
+plantation. What a plantation it was! for Dolly could not seem to get
+to the end of it. She went fast; the afternoon was passing, and she was
+curious to see what would succeed to this young wood; though it is
+hardly right to call it a wood; the trees were not close to each other,
+but stood apart to give every one a fair chance for developing its own
+peculiar manner of growth. Some had reached a height and breadth of
+beauty already; some could be only beautiful at every stage of growth;
+very many of them were quite strange to Dolly; they were foreign trees,
+gathered from many quarters. She went on, until she began to think she
+must give it up and turn back; she was by this time far from home; but
+just then she saw that the plantation was coming to an end on that
+side; light was breaking through the branches. She pressed forward
+eagerly a few steps; and on a sudden stood still, almost with a cry of
+delight. The plantation did end there abruptly, and at the edge of it
+began a great stretch of level green, just spotted here and there with
+magnificent trees, singly or in groups. And at the further edge of this
+green plain, dressed, not hidden, by these intervening trees, rose a
+most beautiful building. It seemed to Dolly like a castle in a fairy
+tale, so bewitchingly lovely and stately it stood there, with the
+evening sunlight playing upon its turrets, and battlements, and all
+that grand sweep of lawn lying at its feet. This must be the "house" of
+which Lawrence had spoken; but surely it was rather a castle. The style
+was Gothic; the building stretched along the ground to a lordly extent
+for a "house," and yet in the light grace and adornment of its
+structure it hardly looked like anything so grim as a castle. The
+stillness was utter; some cattle under the trees on the lawn were the
+only living things to be seen.
+
+Dolly could not satisfy herself with looking. This was something that
+she had read about and heard about; a real English baronial residence.
+But was it reality? it was so graceful, so noble, so wonderful. She
+must go a little nearer. Yet it was a good while before she could make
+up her mind to leave the spot where this exquisite view had first
+opened to her. She advanced then upon the lawn, going towards the house
+and scarce taking her eyes from it. There were no paths cut anywhere;
+it was no loss, for the greensward here was the perfection of English
+turf; soft and fine and thick and even. It was a pleasure to step on
+it; and Dolly stepped along, in a maze, caught in the meshes of the
+beauty around her, and giving herself up to it in willing captivity.
+But the lawn was enormously wider than she had supposed; her eye had
+not been able to measure distances on this green level; she had walked
+already a long way by the time she had got one-third of its breadth
+behind her. Still, Dolly did not much consider that; her eye was fixed
+on the house as she now drew nearer to it, busied in picking out the
+details; and she only now and then cast a glance to right or left of
+her, and never looked back. It did occur to her at last that she
+herself was like a mere little speck cast away in this ocean of green,
+toiling over it like an ant over a floor; and she hurried her steps,
+though she was beginning to be tired. Slowly, slowly she went; half of
+the breadth of lawn was behind her, and then three quarters; and the
+building was unfolding at least its external organisation to her
+curious eyes, and displaying some of its fine memberment and broken
+surface and the resulting lights and shadows. Dolly almost forgot her
+toil, wondering and delighted; though beginning also to question dimly
+with herself how she was ever to find her way home! Go back over all
+that ground she could not, she knew; as little could she have told
+where was the point at the edge of the lawn by which she had entered
+upon it. _That_ way she could not go; she had a notion that at the
+house, or near it, she might find somebody to speak to from whom she
+could get directions as to some other way. So she pressed on, feeding
+her eyes as she approached it upon the details of the house.
+
+When now more than three-fourths of the lawn ground was passed, one of
+Dolly's side glances, intended to catch the beauty of the trees on the
+lawn in their evening illumination, revealed to her a disagreeable
+fact--that, namely, she was looked upon as an intruder by some of the
+cattle; and that in especial a young bull was regarding her with
+serious and ominous bearing and even advancing slowly towards her from
+the group of his companions. It seemed to Dolly not desirable to stand
+the question, and she set off to run; which proceeding, of course,
+confirmed the young bull's suspicions, whatever they were, and he
+followed on a run also. Dolly became aware of this, and now, with all
+the strength of muscle that remained to her, fled towards the house; no
+longer seeing its Gothic mouldings and picturesque lights and shadows,
+only trying very hard to get near. She thought perhaps the creature
+would be shy of the immediate neighbourhood of the house, and not
+choose to follow her so far. But just as she reached that desirable
+vicinity she longed for, she was met by another danger, coming from the
+quarter from whence she sought safety. An enormous staghound dashed out
+from his covert somewhere, with an utterance from his deep throat which
+sounded sufficiently awful to Dolly, an angry or a warning bay, and
+came springing towards her. Dolly stood still dismayed and uncertain,
+the dog before and the bull behind; then, even before the former could
+reach her, a voice was heard calling him off and directing him to the
+advancing bull. In another minute or two a woman had come over the
+grass and stood at Dolly's side. Dolly was on her feet no longer; with
+the first breath of respite she had sunk down on the grass; nerves and
+muscles all trembling with the exertion and with the fright.
+
+The woman came up with a business air; then as she stood beside Dolly
+her look changed. This was no common intruder, she saw; this
+delicate-featured girl; and her dress too, simple as it was, was the
+dress of a lady. Dolly on her part looked up to a face not
+delicate-featured; far from it; solid and strong built as was the
+person to which it belonged; sense and capacity and kindliness,
+however, were legible even at that first glance.
+
+"You've been rather badly frightened, ma'am, I'm afraid," she said, in
+a voice which precisely matched the face; strong and somewhat harsh,
+but kindly in accent.
+
+"Very," said Dolly, whose face began to dimple now. "I am so much
+obliged to you!"
+
+"Not in the vary least, ma'am. But you are worried with the fright, I
+fear?"
+
+"No; I'll get up," said Dolly; "I'm only tired. I believe I'm a little
+weak too. I haven't quite got over trembling, I find."
+
+"You haven't your colour yet again, ma'am. Would you come into my room
+and rest a bit?"
+
+"Oh, thank you. You are very kind!" said Dolly with sincere delight at
+this proposition. For now she was upon her feet she felt that her knees
+trembled under her, and her footsteps were unsteady as she followed the
+woman over the grass. They went towards a small door in the long line
+of the building, the staghound coming back from his chase and attending
+them gravely. The woman opened the door, led Dolly through a passage or
+two, and ushered her into a cosy little sitting-room, neat as wax,
+nicely though plainly furnished. Here she begged Dolly to rest herself
+on the sofa; and while Dolly did so she stood considering her with a
+kindly, anxious face.
+
+"I'm all right now," said Dolly, smiling.
+
+"I beg your pardon, ma'am, but you're growing paler every minute. If
+you'll allow me, ma'am, I will fetch you a glass of wine."
+
+"Wine? Oh, no," said Dolly. "I don't want any wine. I do not drink
+wine. I am just tired. If you'll let me rest here a few minutes"----
+
+"Lie still, ma'am, and don't talk."
+
+She left the room, and Dolly lay still, with shut eyes, feeling very
+much exhausted. It was inexpressibly good to be under shelter and on
+her back; how she was to get home she could not yet consider. Before
+that question fairly came up, her entertainer was back again; but Dolly
+kept her eyes shut. If she opened them, perhaps she would have to talk;
+and she wanted nothing on earth at that moment but to be still.
+
+After a little interval, however, she heard the door open and a second
+person enter; and curiosity brought her eyes open then. The second
+person was a maid-servant with a tray. The tray was set upon a table,
+and Dolly heard the other woman say--
+
+"You'll bring the tea, Kitty, when I ring."
+
+Dolly took this as a signal that she must go; of course she was in the
+way; yet rest felt so very comfortable, that for a moment she still lay
+where she was; and lying there, she gave her hostess a more critical
+examination than she had hitherto bestowed on her. Who could she be?
+She was very well, that is very respectably, dressed; her manner and
+bearing were those of a person in authority; she was at home; but with
+gentle or noble blood she could have no connection unless one of
+service. Her features and her manner proved that. Nevertheless, both
+her face and bearing had a certain attraction for Dolly; a certain
+quiet and poise, an expression of acute intelligence and efficient
+activity, flavoured with good will, which was all very pleasant to see.
+Evidently she was not a person to be imposed upon. Dolly raised herself
+up at last to a sitting posture, preparatory to going.
+
+"Are you recovered enough to be up, ma'am?" her hostess asked, standing
+still to survey her in her turn. "I'm afraid not."
+
+"Oh, thank you, yes; I must go home. And I must ask you kindly to
+direct me; for I do not in the least know the way."
+
+"Have you come far, ma'am? I couldn't make out by what direction it was
+or could have been; for when I saw you first, you seemed to be coming
+right from the middle of the lawn."
+
+"Not quite that; but a little one side of the middle I did cross the
+lawn."
+
+"I do not know, ma'am, anybody that lives in that direction, nor any
+village."
+
+"Brierley Cottage? You know Brierley Cottage?"
+
+"I ask your pardon, ma'am; I thought that was standing empty for
+months."
+
+"It was, I suppose. We have just moved in. My mother wants country air,
+and Mr. St. Leger has let us the cottage. My mother and I are living
+there, and we came only a day or two ago. I wanted to see the beautiful
+ground and trees on this side the brook, and came over the bridge. I
+did not mean to have come so far; I had no notion of seeing the house
+or getting near it; but everything was so beautiful, I was drawn on
+from one point to another, till I found myself at the edge of the lawn.
+And then I saw the cattle, but I never thought of them."
+
+"Why, ma'am," said the woman, looking surprised, "you must have walked
+a good bit. You must have come all through the plantations."
+
+"I should not have minded the walk so much, if I had not had the fright
+at the end of it. But now the thing is, to get home. Can you tell me
+which way? for I am completely out of my reckoning."
+
+"You will take a cup of tea first, ma'am," said the woman, ringing the
+bell. "I had it made on purpose for you. I am sure you'll be the better
+for it. I am the housekeeper here, ma'am, and my name is Jersey."
+
+"The housekeeper?" said Dolly. "I thought the family were abroad."
+
+"So they are, ma'am; and to be sure that makes me less to do; but
+enough still to take care of the place. Put the table up by the sofa,
+Kitty."
+
+The girl had brought in the tea-pot, and Dolly saw some magnificent
+strawberries on the board. The table was shoved up, a cup of tea poured
+out, and Mrs. Jersey cut bread and butter.
+
+"How kind you are!" Dolly cried. "You are taking a great deal of
+trouble for me; a stranger."
+
+"Is it for somebody that loves my Master?" said Mrs. Jersey, looking at
+her with keen eyes.
+
+Dolly's face dimpled all up at this, which would have completed her
+conquest of Mrs. Jersey's heart, if there had been by this time any
+ground in that region not already subjected.
+
+"Your Master?" she said. "You mean--?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am, I mean that. My Master is the Lord Jesus Christ; no other.
+One cannot have two masters; and I serve Lord Brierley only under Him."
+
+"And what made you think--how did you know--that I am His servant too?"
+
+"I don't know, ma'am," said the housekeeper, smiling. "I guessed it
+when I saw you sitting on the grass there. It seems to me, if the Lord
+don't just yet write His name in their foreheads, He does put a letter
+or two of it there, so one can tell."
+
+"I am very glad to find I have a friend in the neighbourhood," said
+Dolly. "I am Dolly Copley; my father is American Consul at London, and
+a friend of Mr. St. Leger."
+
+"I know Mr. St. Leger, ma'am; by name, that is."
+
+By this time Dolly's tea was poured out. The housekeeper served her,
+and watched her as she drank it and eat her strawberries, both of which
+were refreshing to Dolly.
+
+"I think, ma'am, if you'll allow me to say it, you should not try your
+strength with quite such long walks."
+
+"I did not mean it. I was drawn on; and when I got a sight of the house
+from the other side of the lawn, I wanted to look at it nearer. I had
+no notion the distance was so much."
+
+"Ay, ma'am, it's a good bit across the lawn. Perhaps you would like to
+come another day and see the house inside. I would show it to you with
+pleasure."
+
+"Oh, may I?" said Dolly. "I should like it; oh, very much! But you are
+extremely kind, Mrs. Jersey!"
+
+"It is only what I do for a great many indifferent people, ma'am. I
+would think it a privilege to do it for you. My lord and lady being
+away, I have plenty of time on my hands."
+
+"I wonder anybody can stay away from so beautiful a home."
+
+"They have no choice, ma'am; at least so the doctors say. Lady Brierley
+is delicate, and the air of England does not agree with her."
+
+"And she must be banished from her own home!" said Dolly, looking out
+into the lovely landscape visible from the window. "How sad that is!"
+
+"There's only one home one can always keep, ma'am," said the
+housekeeper, watching her.
+
+"Heaven, you mean?"
+
+"We are not in heaven yet. I meant what David says, 'Lord, thou hast
+been our dwelling-place in all generations.'"
+
+"I am not sure I understand it."
+
+"Only love does understand it, ma'am."
+
+"How do you mean, please?"
+
+"Ma'am, it is only love that can live in the life of another; and when
+that other is God, one lives in a secure and wealthy abode. And then it
+does not much matter where one's body is. At least, so I find it."
+
+Dolly looked very thoughtful for a minute; then she rose up.
+
+"I am coming again," she said; "I am coming very soon, Mrs. Jersey.
+Now, will you tell me how I can get home? I must be as quick as I can."
+
+"That is provided for, ma'am," said Mrs. Jersey. "It's a longish way
+round by the road, farther than even you came this afternoon; and
+you're not fit for it; far from it, I should say. I have ordered the
+dog-cart to take you home; and it's ready."
+
+"How could you be so kind to a stranger?" said Dolly, giving her hand.
+But the housekeeper smiled.
+
+"You're no stranger to me, ma'am," she said, clasping the hand Dolly
+had given. "It is true I never saw you before; but whenever I see one
+of my Lord's children, I say to myself, 'Jersey, there is another of
+the family, and the Lord expects you to do what you can for him, or for
+her, as the case may be.'"
+
+Dolly laughed and ran away. The adventure was taking beautiful shape.
+Here she was to have a charming drive home, to end the day; a drive
+through the pretty country lanes. And they were charming in the evening
+light. And the dog-cart did not bring her to Brierley Cottage a bit too
+soon; for Mrs. Copley was already fidgeting about her.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+THE HOUSE.
+
+Dolly did not tell all her experiences of that afternoon. She told only
+so much as might serve to quiet and amuse her mother; for Mrs. Copley
+took all occasions of trouble that came in her way, and invented a few
+more. Mrs. Jersey had sent along in the dog-cart a basket of
+strawberries for the sick lady; so Dolly hoped her mother's impressions
+of this day at least would be favourable.
+
+"Did you ever see such magnificent berries, mother? black and red?"
+
+"Why haven't we berries in our garden?" Mrs. Copley returned.
+
+"Mother, you know the garden has not been kept up; nobody has been
+living here lately."
+
+"Then why did not your father get some other house, where the garden
+_had_ been kept up, and we could have our own fruit and vegetables? I
+think, to be in the country and not have one's own garden and fresh
+things, is forlorn."
+
+"There is one thing, mother; there are plenty of markets in this
+country."
+
+"And plenty of high prices for everything in them. Yes, if you have no
+end to your purse, you can buy things, certainly. But to look at what
+is around us here, one would think your father didn't mean us to have
+much of anything!"
+
+"Mother, he means you to have all you want. We thought you just wanted
+country air."
+
+"And nothing to eat?"
+
+"We are not starving _yet_," said Dolly, smiling, and arranging the
+strawberries.
+
+"These are a gift. A gift I shouldn't think your father would like to
+take, or have us take, which comes to the same thing. We used to have
+enough for ourselves and our neighbours too, once, when we were at
+home, in America. We are nobody here."
+
+"We are just ourselves, mother; what we always were. It does not make
+much difference what people think of us."
+
+"Not much difference," cried Mrs. Copley, "about what people think of
+you! And then, what is to become of you, I should like to know? Nobody
+seeing you, and no chance for anything! I wonder if your father means
+you never to be married?"
+
+"You do not want me married, mother; and not to an Englishman, anyhow."
+
+"Why not? And how are you going to marry anybody else, out here? Can
+you tell me? But, O Dolly! I am tormented to death!"
+
+"Don't, dear mother. That is what makes you ill. What is the matter?
+What troubles you?"
+
+Mrs. Copley did not answer at once.
+
+"You are as sweet as a honeysuckle," she said. "And to think that
+nobody should see you!"
+
+Dolly's dimples came out here strong.
+
+"Are you tormented to death about that?"
+
+Another pause came, and Mrs. Copley finally left the table with the air
+of one who is thinking what she will not speak. She went to the
+honeysuckle porch and sat down, resting her head in her hand and
+surveying the landscape. Twilight was falling over it now, soft and
+dewy.
+
+"I don't see a sign of anything human, anywhere," she remarked. "Is it
+because it is so dark?"
+
+"No, mother; there are no houses in sight."
+
+"Nor from the back windows?"
+
+"No, mother."
+
+"Where is the village you talk about?"
+
+"Half a mile away; the woods and rising ground of Brierley Park hide it
+from us."
+
+"And in this wilderness your father expects me to get well!"
+
+"Why, I think it is charming!" Dolly cried. "My drive home to-night was
+perfectly lovely, mother."
+
+"I didn't have it."
+
+"No, of course; but the country is exceedingly pretty."
+
+"I can't make your father out."
+
+Dolly was hushed here. She was at a loss likewise on this point.
+
+"He acts just as if he had lost his money."
+
+Dolly did not know what to say. She had had the same impression. To her
+inexperience, this did not seem the first of evils; but she guessed it
+would wear another face to her mother.
+
+"And if he _has_," Mrs. Copley went on, "I am sure I wish we were at
+home. England is no sort of a place for poor folks."
+
+"Why should you think he has, mother?"
+
+"I _don't_ think he has," Mrs. Copley flamed out. "But if he hasn't, I
+think he has lost his wits."
+
+"That would be worse," said Dolly, smiling, though she felt anything
+but merry.
+
+"I don't know about that. Nobody'll ask about your wits, if you've got
+money; and if you _haven't_, Dolly, nobody'll care what else you have."
+
+"Mother, I think it is good to have one's treasure where one cannot
+lose it."
+
+"I thought I had that when I married your father," said Mrs. Copley,
+beginning to cry. This was a very strange thing to Dolly and very
+terrible. Her mother's nerves, if irritable, had always been wont to
+show themselves of the soundest. Dolly saw it was not all nerves; that
+she was troubled by some unspoken cause of anxiety; and she herself
+underwent nameless pangs of fear at this corroboration of her own
+doubts, while she was soothing and caressing and arguing her mother
+into confidence again. The success was only partial, and both of them
+carried careful hearts to bed.
+
+A day or two more passed without any variation in the state of things;
+except that old Peters the gardener made his appearance, and began to
+reduce the wilderness outside to some order. Dolly spent a good deal of
+time in the garden with him; tying up rose trees, taking counsel, even
+pulling up weeds and setting plants. That was outside refreshment;
+within, things were unchanged. Mr. Copley wrote that he would run down
+Saturday, or, if he could not, he would send Lawrence. "Why shouldn't
+he come himself?" said Mrs. Copley; and, Why should he send Lawrence?
+thought Dolly. She liked it better without him. She was pleasing
+herself in her garden; finding little ways of activity that delighted
+her in and out of the house; getting wonted; and she did not care for
+the constraint of anybody's presence who must be treated as company.
+One thing she determined upon, however; Lawrence should not make the
+next visit with her at Brierley House; and to prevent it, she would go
+at once by herself.
+
+She went that afternoon, and by an easier way of approach to the place.
+Mrs. Jersey was very glad to see her, and as soon as Dolly was rested a
+little, entered upon the fulfilment of her promise to show the house.
+Accordingly she took her visitor round to the principal entrance, in
+another side of the building from the one Dolly had first seen. Here,
+before she would go in, she stood to admire and wonder at the rich and
+noble effect; the beauty of turrets, oriels, mouldings, and arched
+windows, the wide and lofty pile which stretched away on two sides in
+such lordly lines. Mrs. Jersey told her who was the first builder; who
+had made this and that extension and addition; and then they went in.
+And the first impression here was a contrast.
+
+The place was a great hall of grand proportions. There was nothing
+splendid here to be seen; neither furniture nor workmanship called for
+admiration, unless by their simplicity. There were some old paintings
+on the walls; there were some fine stags' horns, very large and very
+old; there were some heavy oaken settles and big chairs, on which the
+family arms were painted; the arms of the first builder; and there were
+also, what looked very odd to Dolly, a number of leather fire buckets,
+painted in like manner. Yet simple as the room was, it had a great
+charm for her. It was lofty, calm, imposing, superb. She was not ready
+soon to quit it; and Mrs. Jersey, of course, was willing to indulge her.
+
+"It is so unlike anything at home!" Dolly exclaimed.
+
+"That's in America?" said the housekeeper. "Have you no old houses like
+this there, ma'am?"
+
+"Why, we are not old ourselves," said Dolly. "When this house was first
+begun to be built, our country was full of red Indians."
+
+"Is it possible! And are there Indians there yet, ma'am?"
+
+"No. Oh, yes, in the country, there are; but they are driven far
+off,--to the west--what there are of them.--This is very beautiful!"
+
+"I never heard anybody call this old hall beautiful before," said the
+housekeeper, smiling.
+
+"It is so large, and high, and so simple; and these old time things
+make it so respectable," said Dolly.
+
+"Respectable! yes, ma'am, it is that. Shall we go on and see something
+better?"
+
+But her young visitor had fallen to studying the ceiling, which had
+curious carvings and panellings, and paintings which once had been
+bright. There was such a flavour of past ages in the place, that
+Dolly's fancy was all alive and excited. Mrs. Jersey waited, watching
+her, smiling in a satisfied manner; and then, after a while, when Dolly
+would let her, she opened the door into another apartment. A great door
+of carved oak it was, through which Dolly went expectantly, and then
+stood still with a little cry. The first thing she saw was the great
+windows, down to the floor, all along one side of a large room, through
+which a view was given into the park landscape. The grand trees, the
+beautiful green turf, the sunlight and shadow, caught her eye for a
+minute; and then it came back to the view within the windows. Opposite
+this row of windows was an enormous marble chimney-piece; the family
+arms, which Dolly was getting to know, blazoned upon it in brilliant
+colours. Right and left of the fireplace hung old family portraits. But
+when Dolly turned next to give a look at the side of the hall from
+which she had entered, she found that the whole wall was of a piece
+with the great carved door; it was filled with carvings, figures in
+high relief, very richly executed. For a long while Dolly studied these
+figures. Mrs. Jersey could give her little help in understanding them,
+but having, as she fancied, got hold of a clue, Dolly pursued it;
+admiring the life and expression in the figures, and the richly-carved
+accessories. The whole hall was a study to her. On the further side
+went up the staircases leading to the next story. Between them opened
+the entrance into the dining-hall.
+
+Further than these three halls, Mrs. Jersey almost despaired of getting
+Dolly that day. In the dining-hall was a portrait of Queen Elizabeth;
+and before it Dolly sat down, and studied it.
+
+"Did she look like that?" she said finally.
+
+"Surely, she must," said the housekeeper. "The picture is thought a
+deal of. It was painted by a famous painter, I've been told."
+
+"She was very ugly, then!" said Dolly.
+
+"Handsome is that handsome does," said the housekeeper, smiling; "and,
+to be sure, I never could make out that Her Majesty was altogether
+handsome in her doings; though perhaps that's the fault of my
+stupidity."
+
+"She looks cold," said Dolly; "she looks cruel."
+
+"I'm afraid, by all I have read of her, she was a little of both."
+
+"And how she is dressed!--Who is that, the next to her?"
+
+"Mary Stuart; Mary, Queen of Scotland; this lady's rival."
+
+"Rival?" said Dolly. "No, I do not think she was; only Elizabeth chose
+to think her so. How lovely, how lovely!"
+
+"Yes, and by all accounts the portrait tells truth. They say, so she
+was to be sure."
+
+"She looks so innocent, so sweet," said Dolly, fixed before the two
+pictures.
+
+"Do you think she wasn't?"
+
+"One cannot feel quite comfortable about her. The story is ugly, Mrs.
+Jersey. But how a woman with that face could do anything fearfully
+wicked, it is hard to imagine. Poor thing!"
+
+"You are very kind, I am sure, to a person of whom you hold such a bad
+opinion," said the housekeeper, amused.
+
+"I am sorry for them both," said Dolly. "Life wasn't much good to
+either of them, I should think."
+
+"Queen Elizabeth had power," said Mrs. Jersey; "and Queen Mary had
+admiration, I understand."
+
+"Yes, but Elizabeth wanted the admiration, and Mary Stuart wanted the
+power," said Dolly. "Neither of them got what she wanted."
+
+"Few people do in this world, my young lady."
+
+"Do you think so?"
+
+"Young people generally think they will," said the housekeeper;--"and
+old people know better."
+
+"But why should that be?"
+
+"Does Miss Dolly Copley know already what _she_ wants?" the housekeeper
+asked.
+
+"No," said Dolly, laughing out; "not at all. I do not know what I want.
+I do not think I want anything in particular, Mrs. Jersey."
+
+"Keep so, my dear; that is best."
+
+"Why? Because I should be so sure to be disappointed?"
+
+"You might. But it is safe to let God choose for us, Miss Copley; and
+as soon as we begin to plan, we begin to work for our plans, generally;
+and if our plan is not _His_ plan,--that makes trouble, you see, and
+confusion."
+
+"Of course," said Dolly thoughtfully. "Yet it seems to me it would be
+pleasant to have some particular object that one was striving after.
+The days go by, one after another, one like another, and seem to
+accomplish nothing. I should like to have some purpose, some end in
+life, to be striving for and attaining."
+
+"A servant of Christ need never want that," said the housekeeper.
+
+"I have not anything in special to do," said Dolly, looking at her.
+
+"Every servant has something special to do," the other answered.
+
+"I have to take care of mother. But that is not work; it is not work
+for Christ, at least, Mrs. Jersey."
+
+"Dear, it may be. Everything you do, you may do for Him; for He has
+given it to you to do for Him. That is, unless it is something you are
+choosing for yourself."
+
+Dolly pondered.
+
+"And if there be nothing ready to hand that you call work, there is
+always preparation for work to be done," Mrs. Jersey went on.
+
+"What sort?"
+
+"The knowledge of the Bible,--and the knowledge of Christ, to seek and
+win. That surely."
+
+"The knowledge of the Bible? Mrs. Jersey, I know the Bible pretty well."
+
+"And Christ also?"
+
+Dolly mused again, with a very grave face.
+
+"I do not quite know what you mean."
+
+"Then, there is something to be gained yet."
+
+"But,--of course I know what the Bible says about Him."
+
+"That is one sort of knowledge," said the housekeeper; "but it is not
+the knowledge of Him."
+
+"What then?"
+
+"Only knowing about Him, dear."
+
+"What more can we have?"
+
+"Just _Himself_, Miss Copley; and till you have that, dear, you don't
+rightly know what the Bible means."
+
+"I don't think I quite understand you."
+
+"Suppose I told you all I could about my Lady Brierley; would that make
+you know her as I know her?"
+
+"No, certainly; it would not make me really know her at all."
+
+"That is what I was thinking."
+
+"But for _that_ there must be sight, and intercourse, and the power of
+understanding."
+
+"All that," said Mrs. Jersey, smiling; "and the more of that power you
+speak of, the more and the nearer knowledge there will be."
+
+"But in the case you are speaking of, the knowledge of Christ, sight is
+not possible."
+
+"No, not sight with the bodily eyes. It is not; and if it were, it
+mightn't do. Did all the people know the Lord that saw Him with the
+bodily eyes? 'Ye have neither known My Father nor Me,' He said to the
+Jews. 'Have I been so long time with you, and yet hast thou not known
+Me, Philip?'"
+
+"You are setting me a regular puzzle, Mrs. Jersey."
+
+"I hope not, my dear. I do not mean it; and it is the last thing I
+wish."
+
+"But without sight, how is such knowledge to be gained?"
+
+"Do you remember, Miss Copley, it is written,--'The secret of the Lord
+is with them that fear Him.' And Jesus promised to him that loves Him
+and keeps His commandments, 'I will manifest Myself to him.' Doubtless
+we must seek the fulfilment of the promise too."
+
+"How?"
+
+"The same way as with other things. We must ask, and expect, and use
+the means. And no doubt one must be single-eyed and true-hearted. But
+dear, there is no knowledge like that, once get it; and no friend to be
+had, that can equal the Lord Jesus Christ."
+
+Dolly sat still and pondered, gazing at the two portraits.
+
+"It is very hard to think that this world is nothing!" she said at
+last. "To most people it seems everything. Just look at those two
+faces! How they struggled and fought; and how little good their life
+was to them, after all."
+
+"Ay, and folks can struggle and fight for less things than what divided
+them, and lose all just the same. So the Lord said, 'He that loveth his
+life, shall lose it;' but He said too, 'He that loseth his life for My
+sake, shall find it.'"
+
+"You are talking riddles again, Mrs. Jersey," said Dolly, laughing. "I
+thought I was beginning to understand you; but I do not understand
+that."
+
+"No, dear; and surely it is a hard saying to many. But I'll give you a
+key. Just you give your life to the Lord Jesus, and He will show you
+what the losing it means, and the gaining it, too."
+
+"Thank you. I will," said Dolly.
+
+They went on again after that, through more rooms of the house; but the
+afternoon did not serve for the whole. Dolly must return to her mother.
+Mrs. Jersey sent her home again in the dog-cart. The evening was very
+bright and fair; the hedgerows sweet with flowers; the light glittered
+on the foliage of trees and copsewood and shrubbery; the sky was clear
+and calm. Dolly tasted and rejoiced in it all; and yet in the very
+midst of her pleasure an echo from Mrs. Jersey's words seemed to run
+through everything. It did not depress; on the contrary, it excited
+Dolly. With all the beauty and enjoyment of this very beautiful and
+very enjoyable world, there was something still better to be sought and
+found; somewhat still more beautiful, far more enjoyable; and the
+correlative fact that the search and attainment were, or might be,
+attended with some difficulty and requiring some effort or resolution,
+was simply an additional stimulus. Dolly breathed the air with intense
+taste of it. Yes, she thought, I will seek the knowledge Mrs. Jersey
+spoke of. That must be better than anything else.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+PREACHING AND PRACTICE.
+
+"How long you have stayed, Dolly!" was Mrs. Copley's greeting. "I don't
+see what is to become of me in this lonely place, if you are always
+trotting about. I shall die!"
+
+Dolly took this cold-water bath upon her pleasure with her usual
+sweetness.
+
+"Dear mother, I did not know I was so long away. I will not go again,
+if it is bad for you."
+
+"Of course it is bad for me. It is very bad for me. It is bad for
+anybody. I just think and think, till I am ready to fly.--What have you
+been doing?"
+
+"Looking at Brierley House. So beautiful as it is, mother!"
+
+This made a diversion. Mrs. Copley asked and received a detailed
+account of all Dolly had seen.
+
+"It don't sound as if _I_ should like it," was her comment. "I should
+never have those old chairs and things sticking about."
+
+"O mother! yes, you would; they are most beautiful, and so
+old-fashioned; with the arms of the barons of Coppleby carved on them."
+
+"I shouldn't want the arms of the barons of Coppleby on the chairs in
+my house, if I was the Earl of Brierley."
+
+"But they are everywhere, mother; they are cut and painted over the
+fireplace in the baron's hall."
+
+"I'd cut 'em out, then, and put up my own. Fire buckets, too! How
+ridiculous. What ornaments for a house!"
+
+"I like them," said Dolly.
+
+"Oh, you like everything. But, Dolly, what does your father think is to
+become of us? He in London, and we here! Such a way of living!"
+
+"But you wanted country air, mother."
+
+"I didn't; not in this way. Air isn't everything. Did he say, if he
+could not come down Saturday, he would send Mr. St. Leger?"
+
+"I do not see why he should," said Dolly gaily. "We don't want him."
+
+"Now, what do you say that for, Dolly?"
+
+"Just because _I_ don't want him, mother. Do you?"
+
+"He's a very good young man."
+
+Dolly was silent.
+
+"And very rich."
+
+Dolly said nothing.
+
+"And I am sure he is very agreeable."
+
+Then, as her utterances still met no response, Mrs. Copley broke out.
+"Dolly, why don't you say something? I have nobody to talk to but you,
+and you don't answer me! I might as well talk to the wall."
+
+"Mother, I would rather have father come down to see us. If the choice
+lies between them, I would rather have father."
+
+Mrs. Copley leaned her head on her hand. "Dolly," she began again,
+"your father acts exactly as if he had lost money."
+
+Dolly again did not answer. The repeated words gave her a very startled
+thrill.
+
+"As if he had lost a good deal of money," Mrs. Copley went on. "I can't
+get it out of my head that he has."
+
+"It's no use to think about it, mother," Dolly said as lightly as she
+could. "Don't you trouble yourself, at any rate."
+
+"That's foolish. How can I help troubling myself? And if it _was_ any
+use to think about it, to be sure I needn't be troubled. Dolly, it
+torments me day and night!" And tears that were bitter came into Mrs.
+Copley's eyes.
+
+"It need not, dear mother. Money is not the only thing in the world;
+nor the best thing."
+
+"And that's silly, too," returned her mother. "One's bread and butter
+may not be the best thing in the world,--I am sure this bread
+ain't,--but you can't live without it. What can you do without money?"
+
+"I never tried, you know," said Dolly; "but I should think it would be
+possible to be happy."
+
+"Like a child!" said her mother. "Children always think so. What's to
+make you happy, when the means are gone? No, Dolly; money is
+everything, in this world. Without it you are of no consequence, and
+you are at everybody's mercy; and I can tell you one thing besides;--if
+the women could be happy without money, the men cannot. If you don't
+give a man a good breakfast, he'll be cross all day; and if his dinner
+don't suit him, you'll hear of it for a week, and he'll go off to the
+club besides."
+
+"He cannot do _that_ without money," said Dolly, trying to laugh.
+
+"Then he'll stay at home, and torment you. I tell you, Dolly, life
+ain't worth having, if you haven't got money. That is why I want you to
+like"---- Mrs. Copley broke off suddenly.
+
+"I should think one might have good breakfasts and dinners even if one
+was poor," said Dolly. "They say French women do."
+
+"What French women do is neither here nor there. I am talking about you
+and me. Look at this bread,--and see that omelette. I can tell you,
+nothing on earth would keep your father down here if he couldn't have
+something better to eat than, that."
+
+Dolly began to ponder the possibility of learning the art of cookery.
+
+"What puzzles me," Mrs. Copley went on, "is, how he _could_ have lost
+money? But I am sure he has. I feel it in all my bones. And he is such
+a clever man about business too!"
+
+Dolly tried with all her might to bring her mother off this theme. At
+last she succeeded; but the question lingered in her own mind and gave
+it a good deal to do.
+
+After a day or two more, Mr. St. Leger came as threatened. Dolly
+received him alone. She was in the garden, gathering roses, at the time
+of his arrival. The young man came up to her, looking very glad and shy
+at once, while Dolly was neither the one nor the other. She was
+attending to the business she had in hand.
+
+"Well, how are you?" said her visitor. "How is Mrs. Copley? Getting
+along, eh?"
+
+"When's father coming down, Mr. St. Leger?"
+
+"To-morrow. He'll come down early, he said."
+
+"Sunday morning?" cried Dolly, and stopped, looking at the young man.
+
+"Oh yes. He'll come down early. He couldn't get off to-night, he told
+me. Some business."
+
+"What business? Anything he could not put off? What kept him, Mr. St.
+Leger?"
+
+"I don't know, 'pon my honour. He'll be down in the morning, though.
+What's the matter? Mrs. Copley isn't worse, I hope?"
+
+"No, I think not," said Dolly, going back to her rose-pulling, with a
+hand that trembled.
+
+"May I help you? What are all these roses for? Why, you've got a lot of
+'em. How do you like Brierley, Miss Dolly? It likes you. I never saw
+you look better. How does your mother fancy it?"
+
+"Mother has taken a fancy to travel. She thinks she would like that
+better than being still in one place."
+
+"Travel! Where to? Where does she want to go?"
+
+"She talks of Venice. But I do not know whether father could leave his
+post."
+
+"I should say he couldn't, without the post leaving him. But, I say,
+Miss Dolly! maybe Mrs. Copley would let me be her travelling-courier,
+instead. I should like that famously. Venice--and we might run down and
+see Rome. Hey? What do you think of it?"
+
+Dolly answered coolly, inwardly resolving she would have no more to say
+about travelling before Mr. St. Leger. However, in the evening he
+brought up the subject himself; and Mrs. Copley and he went into it
+eagerly, and spent a delightful evening over plans for a possible
+journey; talking of routes, and settling upon stopping places. Dolly
+was glad to see her mother pleased and amused, even so; but herself
+took no sort of part in the talk. Next day Mr. Copley in truth arrived,
+and was joyfully received.
+
+
+"Well, how do you do?" said he, after the first rejoicings were over,
+looking from his wife to his daughter and back again. It was the third
+or fourth time he had asked the question. "Pretty jolly, eh? Dolly is.
+_You_ are not, my dear, seems to me."
+
+"You are not either, it seems to me, Mr. Copley."
+
+"I? I am well enough."
+
+"You are not 'jolly,' father?" said Dolly, hanging upon him.
+
+"Why not? Yes, I am. A man can't be very jolly that has anything to do
+in this world."
+
+"O father! I should think, to have nothing to do would be what would
+hinder jolliness."
+
+"Anything to do but enjoy, I mean. I don't mean _nothing_ to do. But it
+ain't life, to live for business."
+
+"Then, if I were you, I would play a little, Mr. Copley," said his wife.
+
+"So I do. Here I am," said he, with what seemed to Dolly forced gaiety.
+"Now, how are you going to help me play?"
+
+"_We_ help _you_," said his wife. "Why didn't you come yesterday?"
+
+"Business, my dear; as I said. These are good berries. Do they grow in
+the garden?"
+
+"How should strawberries grow in a garden where nobody has been
+living?" said his wife. "And what is your idea of play in an
+out-of-the-way place like this, Mr. Copley?"
+
+"Well--not a catechism," said he, slowly putting strawberries in his
+mouth one after the other. "What's the matter with the place? I thought
+it would just suit you. Isn't the air good?"
+
+"Breathing isn't quite the only necessary of life," said his wife; "and
+you were asking about play. I think a change would be play to me."
+
+"Well, this is a change, or I don't know the meaning of the word.
+You've just come, and have not examined the ground yet. Must have a
+good market, if this fruit is any sign."
+
+"There is no market or anything else, except what you can find in a
+little village. The strawberries come from Brierley House, where Dolly
+goes to get _her_ play. As for me, who cannot run about, on my feet, or
+anyway, I sit here and wonder when she will be back again. Are we to
+have no carriage here, Mr. Copley?"
+
+"We had better find out how you like it first, seems to me. Hardly
+worth while, if you're not going to stay."
+
+Mr. Copley rose and sauntered out to the porch, and Dolly looked
+furtively at her mother. She saw a troubled, anxious face, lines of
+nervous unrest; she saw that her father's coming had not brought
+refreshment or relief; and truly she did not perceive why it should.
+Dolly was wholly inexperienced, in all but the butterfly life of very
+happy young years; nevertheless, she could not fail to read, or at
+least half read, some signs of another sort of life. She noticed that
+her father's manner wanted its ordinary careless, confident ease; there
+was something forced about it; his face bore tokens of loss of sleep,
+and had a trait of uneasiness most unwonted in Mr. Copley. Dolly sat
+still a little while, and then went out and joined her father in the
+porch. Mr. St. Leger had come in, so that she did not leave her mother
+alone. Dolly came close and laid her arm round her father's neck, her
+fingers playing with his hair; while he fondly threw one arm about her.
+
+"How is it, Dolly?" he asked. "Don't you like it here?"
+
+"_I_ do, very much. But mother finds it very quiet. I think she would
+like to travel, father."
+
+"Travel! But I can't go travelling. I cannot get away from London for
+more than a day. Quiet! I thought she wanted quiet. I heard of nothing
+but her want of quiet, till I got her down here; and now she wants
+noise."
+
+"Not noise, exactly, but change."
+
+"Well, what is this but change? as I said. I do not know what would
+please her."
+
+"I know what would please me," said Dolly, with her heart beating; for
+she was venturing on unknown ground--"A little money."
+
+"Money!" exclaimed her father. "What in the world do you want with
+money down here?"
+
+"To pay the servants, father," Dolly said low. "Margaret asked me for
+her month's wages, and I said I would ask you. Can you give it to me?"
+
+"She cannot do anything with money down here either. She don't want it.
+Her wages are safe, tell her. I'll take care of them for her."
+
+"But, father, if she likes to take care of them for herself, she has
+the right. Such people like to see their money, I suppose."
+
+"I have yet to find the people that don't," said her father. "But,
+really, she'll have to wait, my child. I have not brought so much in my
+pocket-book with me."
+
+This also struck Dolly as very unusual. Never in her life, that she
+could remember, had her father confessed before to an empty purse.
+
+"Then, could you send it to me, father, when you go back to London?"
+
+"Yes, I'll send it. Or better, wait till I come down again. You would
+not know how to manage if I sent it. And Margaret really cannot be in a
+hurry."
+
+Dolly stood still, fingering the locks of her father's thick hair,
+while her mental thermometer went down and down. She knew by his whole
+manner that the money was not at hand even were he in London; and where
+then was it? Mr. Copley had always till now had plenty; what had
+happened, or what was the cause of the change? And how far had it gone?
+and to what point might it go? and what should she do, if she could not
+soon pay Margaret? and what would become of her mother, if not only her
+travelling projects were shattered, but also her personal and household
+comforts should fail her where she was? What could Dolly do, to save
+money? or could she in any way touch the source of the evil, and bring
+about an essential bettering of this new and evil state of things? She
+must know more first; and how should she get more knowledge?
+
+There came a sigh to her ears here, which greatly touched her.
+Nevertheless, for the present she could not even show sympathy, for she
+dared not seem aware of the need for it. Tears came to her eyes, but
+she commanded them back; that would not do either.
+
+"Suppose we take a walk, Dolly, in that jolly old wood yonder?" Mr.
+Copley said. "That's Brierley Park, ain't it? We might go and see the
+house, if you like."
+
+"It is Sunday, father."
+
+"Well, what then? The world is pretty much the same thing Sunday that
+it is other days, eh?"
+
+"Yes, father--the world; but not the day. That is not the same as the
+rest."
+
+"Why not? We cannot go to church to-day, if that is what you are
+thinking of. I took church-time to come down here. And if you wanted to
+go to church, Dolly, you couldn't have a finer temple than over yonder."
+
+"Oh, if you'll go to church there, father, I'll go."
+
+"To be sure I will. Get your hat."
+
+"And my Bible?"
+
+"Bible?" Mr. Copley looked at her. "I didn't say anything about a
+Bible. We are going to take a walk. You don't want a book to carry."
+
+"How are we going to church there, then?"
+
+"Think good thoughts, and enjoy the works of the good Creator. That's
+all you can do in any church, Dolly. Come, little Puritan."
+
+Dolly did not quite know what to do; however, she got her hat, finding
+that her mother was willing; and she and her father went down to the
+bridge. There, to her dismay somewhat, they were joined by Mr. St.
+Leger. But not to Mr. Copley's dismay; he welcomed the young man
+openly. Dolly would have gone back now, but she did not dare.
+
+"Going to see the house?" Lawrence asked.
+
+"It is Sunday," said Dolly. "You cannot."
+
+"There's a way of opening doors, even on Sunday," said the other.
+
+"No, not here. The housekeeper will not let you in. She is a Christian."
+
+"She is a Methodist, you mean," said Mr. Copley.
+
+"I believe she is a Methodist. She is a good friend of mine."
+
+"What business have you to make friends with Methodists? we're all good
+Church people; hey, Lawrence? What grand old woods these are!"
+
+"How old do you suppose these trees to be, father?"
+
+"Can't guess; less than centuries would not do. Centuries of being let
+alone! I wonder how men would get on, if they could have as good a
+chance? Glorious! Go on, children, and take your walk; I will lie down
+here and rest. I believe I want that more than walking."
+
+He threw himself down at full length on the turf in the shadow of a
+giant beech. Dolly and her remaining companion passed slowly on. This
+was not what she had reckoned upon; but she saw that her father wished
+to be left alone, and she did not feel, nevertheless, that she could go
+home and leave the party. Slowly she and Mr. St. Leger sauntered on,
+from the shadow of one great tree to another; Dolly thinking what she
+should do. When they were gotten out of sight and out of earshot, she
+too stopped, and sat down on a shady bank which the roots of an immense
+oak had thrown up around its base.
+
+"What now?" said Lawrence.
+
+"This is a good place to stay. Father wishes to be left to himself."
+
+"But aren't you going any further?"
+
+"There is nothing to be gained by going any further. It is as pretty
+here as anywhere in the wood."
+
+"We might go on and see the pheasantry. Have you seen the pheasantry?"
+
+"No."
+
+"That does not depend on the housekeeper's pleasure; and the people on
+the place are not all Methodists. I fancy we should have no trouble in
+getting to see that. Come! It is really very fine, and worth a walk to
+see. I am not much of a place-hunter, but the Brierley pheasantry is
+something by itself."
+
+"Not to-day," said Dolly.
+
+"Why not to-day? I can get the gate opened."
+
+"You forget it is Sunday, Mr. St. Leger."
+
+"I do not forget it," said he, throwing himself down on the bank beside
+her. "I came here to have the day with you. It's a holiday. Mr. Copley
+keeps a fellow awfully busy other days, if one has the good fortune to
+be his secretary. I remember particularly well that it is Sunday. What
+about it? Can't a fellow have it, now he has got it?"
+
+The blue eyes were looking with a surprised sort of complaint in them,
+yet not wholly discontented, at Dolly. How could they be discontented?
+So fair an object to rest upon and so curiosity-provoking too, as she
+was. Dolly's advantages were not decked out at all; she was dressed in
+a simple white gown; and there were none of the formalities of fine
+ladyism about her; a very plain little girl; and yet, Lawrence was not
+far wrong when he thought her the fairest thing his eyes had ever seen.
+_Her_ eyes had such a mingling of the childlike and the wise; her hair
+curled in such an artless, elegant way about her temples and in her
+neck; the neck itself had such a pretty set and carriage, the figure
+was so graceful in its girlish outlines; and above all, her manner had
+such an inexplicable combination of the utterly free and the utterly
+unapproachable. Lawrence lay thinking all this, or part of it; Dolly
+was thinking how she should dispose of him. She could not well say
+anything that would directly seem to condemn her father. And while she
+was thinking what answer she should make, Lawrence had forgot his
+question.
+
+"Do you like this park?" he began on another tack.
+
+"Oh, more than I can tell you! It is perfect. It is magnificent. There
+is nothing like it in all America. At least, _I_ never saw anything
+like it there."
+
+"Why not?" said Lawrence. "I mean, why is there not anything like this
+there?"
+
+Then Dolly's face dimpled all up in one of its expressions of extreme
+sense of fun.
+
+"We are not old enough," she said. "You know when these trees were
+young, our land was filled with the red men, and overgrown with
+forests."
+
+"Well, those forests were old."
+
+"Yes, but in a forest trees do not grow like this. They cannot. And
+then the forest had to be cut down."
+
+"Then you like England better than America?"
+
+"I never saw in my life anything half so beautiful as Brierley Park."
+
+"You would be contented with such a home, wherever it might be?"
+
+"As far as the trees went," said Dolly, with another ripple of fun
+breaking over her face.
+
+"Tell me," said Lawrence, "are all American girls like you?"
+
+"In what way? We do not all look alike."
+
+"No, no; I do not mean looks; they are no more like you in _that_, than
+you say America resembles Brierley Park. But you are not like an
+English girl."
+
+"I am afraid that is not an equal compliment to me. But why should
+Americans be different from English people? We went over from England
+only a little while ago."
+
+"Institutions?" Lawrence ventured.
+
+"What, because we have a President, and you have a King? What
+difference should that make?"
+
+"Then you see no difference? Am I like an American, now?"
+
+"You are not like my father, certainly. But I do not know any American
+young men--except one. And I don't know him."
+
+"That sounds very much like a riddle. Won't you be so good as to
+explain?"
+
+"There is no riddle," said Dolly. "I knew him when I was at school, a
+little girl, and I have never seen him since."
+
+"Then you don't know him now, I should say."
+
+"No. And yet I feel as if I knew him. I should know him if we saw each
+other again."
+
+"Seems to have made a good deal of an impression!"
+
+"Yes, I think he did. I liked him."
+
+"Before you see him again you will have forgotten him," said Lawrence
+comfortably. "Do you not think you could forget America, if somebody
+would make you mistress of such a place as this?"
+
+"And if everybody I loved was here? Perhaps," said Dolly, looking round
+her at the soft swelling green turf over which the trees stretched
+their great branches.
+
+"But," said Lawrence, lying on his elbow and watching her, "would you
+want _everybody_ you love? The Bible says that a woman shall leave
+father and mother and cleave to her husband."
+
+"No; the Bible says that is what the man shall do; leave father and
+mother and cleave unto his wife."
+
+"They work it the other way," said Lawrence. "With us, it is the woman
+who leaves her family to go with the man."
+
+"Mr. St. Leger," said Dolly suddenly, "father does not look well. What
+do you think is the matter with him?"
+
+"Oh--aw--yes! Do you think he doesn't look well?" Lawrence answered
+vaguely.
+
+"Not _ill_--but not just like himself either. What is it?"
+
+"I--well, I have thought that myself sometimes," replied the young man.
+
+"What is the matter with him?" Dolly repeated anxiously.
+
+"Oh, not much, he spends too much time at--at his office, you know!"
+
+"He has no need to do that. He does not want the office--not for the
+money's sake."
+
+"Most men want money," said Lawrence.
+
+"But do you think he does?"
+
+"Oh, why not? Why, _my_ father wants money, always wants money; and yet
+you would say he has enough, too. Dolly"---- She interrupted him.
+
+"But what did you mean? You meant to say he spends too much time at--at
+what? Say what you were going to say."
+
+Lawrence rolled himself over on the bank so that he could look up
+straight into her face. It was a good look of his blue eyes. "Dolly,"
+said he, "if you will leave father and mother for my sake,
+figuratively, I mean,--of course, figuratively,--I will take care that
+neither of them ever wants anything for the rest of their lives. And
+you shall have a place as good as Brierley Park."
+
+Dolly's spirits must have taken one or two quick leaps, for her colour
+changed so; but happily Lawrence's speech was long enough to let her
+get possession of herself again. She answered with an _a plomb_ which,
+born of necessity as it was, and natural, equalled that of the most
+practised fine lady which should show her artificial habit or skill.
+Like an instinct of self-preservation, I suppose; swift in action,
+correct in adjustment, taking its measures with unpremeditated good
+aim. She answered with absolute seeming calmness--
+
+"You evade my question, I observe."
+
+"I am sure you evade mine!" said the young man, much more hotly.
+
+"Perhaps I do. Naturally, I want mine answered first."
+
+"And then will you give me the answer to my question?" said he eagerly.
+
+"That would seem to be no more than good manners."
+
+"What do you want to know, Dolly? I am sure I can't tell what to say to
+you."
+
+"Tell me what makes my father look unlike himself," said Dolly quietly.
+She spoke quietly; not as if she were greatly concerned to know the
+answer; yet if Lawrence had guessed how her heart beat he would have
+had still more difficulty with his reply. He had some, as it was; so
+much that he tried to turn the matter off.
+
+"You are imagining things," he said. "Mr. Copley seems to me very much
+what I have always known him."
+
+"He does not seem to me as _I_ have always known him," said Dolly. "And
+you are not saying what you are thinking, Mr. St. Leger."
+
+"You are terribly sharp!" said he, to gain time.
+
+"That's quite common among American women. Go on, Mr. St. Leger, if you
+please."
+
+"I declare, it's uncanny. I feel as if you could see through me, too.
+And no one will bear such looking into."
+
+"Go on, Mr. St. Leger," Dolly repeated with an air of superiority. Poor
+child, she felt very weak at the time.
+
+"I don't know what to say, 'pon my honour," the young man averred. "I
+have nothing to say, really. And I am afraid of troubling you, besides."
+
+Dolly could _not_ speak now. She preserved her calm air of attention;
+that was all.
+
+"It's really nothing," St. Leger went on; "but I suppose, really, Mr.
+Copley may have lost some money. That's nothing, you know. Every man
+does, now and then. He loses, and then he gains."
+
+"How?" said Dolly gravely.
+
+"Oh, well, there are various ways. Betting, you know, and cards.
+Everybody bets; and of course he can't always win, or betting would
+stop. That's nothing, Miss Copley."
+
+"Have you any idea how much he has lost?"
+
+"Haven't an idea. People don't tell, naturally, how hard they are hit.
+I am sure it is nothing you need be concerned about."
+
+"Are not people often ruined in that way?" Dolly asked, still
+preserving her outside calm.
+
+"Well, that does happen, of course, now and then, with careless people.
+Mr. Copley is not one of that sort. Not that kind of man."
+
+"Do not people grow careless, in the interest and excitement of the
+play?"
+
+St. Leger hesitated, and laughed a little, casting up his blue eyes at
+Dolly as if she were a very peculiar specimen of young womanhood and he
+were not quite sure how to answer her.
+
+"I assure you," he said, "there is nothing that you need be concerned
+about. I am certain there is not."
+
+"Not if my father is concerned about it already?"
+
+"He is not concerned, I am sure. Oh, well! there may be a little
+temporary embarrassment--that can happen to any man, who is not made of
+gold--but it will be all right. Now, Miss Copley"----
+
+She put out her hand to stop him.
+
+"Mr. St. Leger, can you do nothing to help? You are kind, I know; you
+have always been kind to us; can you do nothing to help now?"
+
+The young man rather opened his eyes. Was this asking him for an
+advance? It was a very cool proceeding in that case. "Help?" he
+repeated doubtfully. "What sort?"
+
+"There is only one way that you could help," said Dolly.
+
+He saw she meant what she meant, if he could know what that was; her
+cheeks had even grown pale; the sweet, clear brown eyes sought his face
+as if they would reach his heart, which they did; but then,--to assume
+any of Mr. Copley's responsibilities--
+
+"I'll assume all Mr. Copley's responsibilities, Dolly," he said with
+rash decision--"if you'll smile upon me."
+
+"Assume?--Oh, did you think I meant _that?_" cried Dolly, while a
+furious flush came up into her face. "What a notion you must have of
+Americans, Mr. St. Leger! Do you think father would make over his
+responsibilities to another man? I did not mean anything so impossible
+as that."
+
+"Forgive me Then what did you mean?"
+
+"Perhaps something as impossible," said Dolly sadly, while the flush
+slowly paled. "I meant--couldn't you--could you--I don't know but it is
+just as impossible!"----
+
+"Could I, what? I could do most things, if you wished it, Dolly."
+
+"Then you must not call me that till I give you leave. I was going to
+say, could you perhaps do anything to get my father away from this
+habit, or pleasure"----
+
+"Of betting?"
+
+"Betting--and cards--it's all the same. He never used to do it. Can you
+help, Mr. St. Leger?"
+
+Dolly's face was a sort of a marvel. It was so childlike, it was so
+womanly; it was so innocent, and it was so forceful. Lawrence looked,
+and would have liked to do the impossible; but what could he? It was
+specially at his own father's card-table, he knew, that Mr. Copley had
+lost money; it was wholly in his father's society that he had been
+initiated into the fascination of wagers--and of something else. Could
+he go against his own father? and how could he? and himself a player,
+though a very cautious one, how should he influence another man not to
+play?
+
+"Miss Copley--I am younger than your father"---- Lawrence began.
+
+"I know. But you might speak where I cannot. Or you might do something."
+
+"Mr. Copley only does what my father does, and what everybody does."
+
+"If you were to tell your father,--could not _he_ perhaps stop
+it?--bring my father off the notion?" Dolly had reached the very core
+of the subject now and touched what she wanted to touch; for she had a
+certain assurance in her own mind that her father's intercourse with
+the banker and his circle of friends had led to all this trouble.
+Lawrence pondered, looked serious; and finally promised that he would
+"see what he could do." He would have urged his own question then; but
+to Dolly's great relief Mr. Copley found by this time that he had had
+enough of his own company; and called to them. However she could not
+escape entirely.
+
+"I have answered your question, Miss Copley," Lawrence said as they
+were going down the slope towards the yet unseen caller. "Hallo! yes,
+we're coming.--Now am I not to have the promised answer to mine?"
+
+"How did you put it? the question?" said Dolly, standing still and
+facing her difficulties.
+
+"You know. _I_ don't know how I put it," St. Leger said with a half
+laugh. "But I meant, Dolly, that you are more to me than everything and
+everybody in the world; and I wanted to know what I am to you?"
+
+"Not _that_, Mr. St. Leger." Dolly was quiet, and did not shun his
+eyes; and though she did grow rosy, there were some suspicious dimples
+in her fair little face; very unencouraging, but absolutely
+irresistible at the same time.
+
+"What then?" said the young man. "Of course, I could not be to you what
+you are to me, Dolly. Naturally. But I can take care of your father and
+mother, and I will; and I will put you in a place as good as Brierley
+Park. I am my father's only son, and his heir, and I can do pretty much
+what I like to do. But I care for nothing if you will not share it with
+me."
+
+"I am not going to leave my father and mother at present," said Dolly,
+shaking her head.
+
+"No, not at present," said he eagerly, catching at her words. "Not at
+present. But you do not love anybody else, Dolly?"
+
+"Certainly not!"
+
+"Then you will let me hope? You will let me hold myself your best
+friend, after them?"
+
+"I believe you are that," said Dolly, giving him her hand;--"except my
+old Methodist acquaintance, Mrs. Jersey." Which addition was a little
+like a dash of cold water; but Lawrence was tolerably contented after
+all; and pondered seriously what he could do in the matter of Mr.
+Copley's gaming tendencies. Dolly was right; but it is awkward to
+preach against what you practise yourself.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+DIFFICULTIES.
+
+Dolly on her part had not much comfort in the review of this afternoon.
+"It was no good," she said to herself; "I am afraid it has encouraged
+Lawrence St. Leger in nonsense. I did not mean that, but I am afraid he
+took it for encouragement. So much for going walking Sunday. I'll never
+do it again."
+
+Lawrence had taken leave very cheerfully; that was certain. As much
+could not be said for his principal. Dolly had privately asked her
+father to send her down the money for the servants' wages; and Mr.
+Copley had given an offhand promise; but Dolly saw that same want of
+the usual ready ease in his manner, and was not surprised when days
+passed and the money did not come. The question recurred, what was she
+to do? She wrote to remind her father; and she took a fixed resolve
+that she would buy no more, of anything, that she could not on the spot
+pay for. This, however, was not a resolve immediately taken; it ensued
+when after several weeks the women again pressed for their money, and
+again in vain. Dolly started back then from the precipice she saw she
+might be nearing, and determined to owe no more debts. She wrote to her
+father once more, begging for a supply. And a supply came; but so
+meagre that Dolly could but partially pay her two servants and keep a
+little in hand to go to market with. Mr. Copley had not come down to
+Brierley in the meanwhile. Lawrence had.
+
+Her unaccustomed burden of care Dolly had kept to herself; therefore it
+startled her when one day her mother began upon the subject.
+
+"What's this about Margaret's wages, Dolly?"
+
+"She asked me for some money the other day," Dolly answered as easily
+as she could.
+
+"You didn't give it to her?"
+
+"I have given her part; I had not the whole."
+
+"Haven't you _any?_"
+
+"Yes, mother, but not enough to give Margaret all she wants."
+
+"Let her have what you've got, and write your father to send you some.
+I never like to keep servants waiting. What's theirs, isn't yours; and
+besides, they never serve you so well, and you're in their power."
+
+"Mother, I want to keep a little in the house, for every day calls,
+till I get some more."
+
+"Your father will send it immediately. Why he don't come himself, I
+don't see. _I_'m not gaining, all alone in this wilderness, with
+nothing but the trees of Brierley Park to look at. I can't think what
+your father is dreaming about!"
+
+Dolly was silent, and hoped the subject had blown over. Yet it could
+not blow over for ever, she reflected. What was she to do? Then her
+mother startled her again.
+
+"Dolly have you told your father that you want money?"
+
+Dolly hesitated; had to say yes.
+
+"And he did not give it to you?"
+
+"Yes, mother; he sent me some."
+
+"When?"
+
+"It was--it must have been three weeks ago."
+
+"How much?"
+
+"Not enough to pay all that is due to Margaret."
+
+Mrs. Copley laid down her face in her hands. A terrible pain went
+through Dolly's heart; but what could she say. It seemed as if pain
+pricked her like a shower of arrows, first on this side and then on
+that. She thought her mother _had_ gained somewhat in the past weeks;
+how would it, or could it, be now? Presently Mrs. Copley lifted up her
+head with a further question.
+
+"Is Sarah paid?"
+
+"No, mother; not yet," said poor Dolly.
+
+"Has Peter been paid anything?"
+
+"Not by us. We do not pay Peter at all," replied Dolly, feeling as if
+the words were stabbing her.
+
+"Who does?" said her mother quickly.
+
+"Mr. St. Leger sent him here. He is their servant really, and they take
+care of him."
+
+"I don't see how your father can content himself with that," said Mrs.
+Copley. "But I suppose that is one of the debts that _you_ will pay,
+Dolly."
+
+Dolly forced herself to speak very quietly, though every nerve and
+fibre was trembling and quivering. She said, "How, mother?"
+
+"I suppose you know. Mr. St. Leger knows, at any rate; and your father
+too, it seems."
+
+"Mother," said Dolly, sitting up a little straighter, "do you think I
+will pay debts in _that_ way?"
+
+"What other way will you pay them, then, child? what do you and your
+father expect? What _can_ you do, if you have not the money?" Mrs.
+Copley spoke bitterly. Dolly waited a little, perhaps to bite down or
+swallow down some feeling.
+
+"Mother," she said, somewhat lower, "do you think father would want me
+to pay his debts so?"
+
+"Want to?" echoed Mrs. Copley. "I tell you, Dolly, when people get into
+difficulties the question is not what they _want_ to do. They have to
+pocket their likings, and eat humble pie. But how has your father got
+into difficulties?" she burst out with an expression of frightened
+distress. "He always had plenty. Dolly!--tell me!--what do you know
+about it? what is it? How _could_ he get into difficulties! Oh, if we
+had staid at home! Dolly, how is it possible? We have always had
+plenty--money running like water--all my life; and now, how _could_
+your father have got into difficulties?"
+
+Perhaps the difficulty was but transient and would soon pass over,
+Dolly faintly suggested.
+
+"It don't look like it," said Mrs. Copley miserably, "and your father
+don't look like it. Here we are down in this desert, you and I, to keep
+us out of the way, and where we will cost as near nothing as can be;
+and we can't pay that! Do you know nothing about it, Dolly? how it has
+come about?"
+
+"I couldn't ask father such a question, mother, you know."
+
+"And what is to become of me!" Mrs. Copley went on; "when travelling is
+the thing I need. And what is to become of you, Dolly? Nobody to be
+seen, or to see you, but St. Leger. Have you made up your mind to be
+content with him? Will you have him, Dolly? and is that the way your
+father is going to take care of you?"
+
+Poor Mrs. Copley, having so long swallowed her troubles in secret,
+dreading to give pain to Dolly, now that her mouth was once opened
+poured them forth relentlessly. Why not? the subject was broached at
+last, and having spoken, she might go on to speak. And poor Dolly, full
+of her own anxieties, did not know where to begin to quiet those of her
+mother.
+
+"Mr. St. Leger is nothing to me," she said, however, in answer to Mrs.
+Copley's last suggestions.
+
+"He thinks he is."
+
+"Then he is very foolish," said Dolly, reddening.
+
+"It is you that are foolish, and you just do not know any better. I
+don't think, Dolly, that it would be at all a bad thing for
+you;--perhaps it would be the very best; though I'd rather have you
+marry one of our own people; but St. Leger is rich, very rich, I
+suppose; and your father has got mixed up with them somehow, and I
+suppose that would settle everything. St. Leger is handsome, too; he
+has a nice face; he has beautiful eyes; and he is a gentleman."
+
+"His face wants strength."
+
+"That's no matter. I begin to believe, Dolly, that you have wit enough
+for two."
+
+"I am not speaking of wit; I mean _strength;_ and I should never like
+any man that hadn't it; not like him in the way you mean, mother."
+
+"Strength? what sort of strength?"
+
+"I mean manliness; power to do right; power over himself and others;
+power over the wrong, to put it down, and over the right, to lift it up
+and give it play. I don't know that I can tell you what I mean, mother;
+but that is my notion of a man."
+
+"You are romantic, I am afraid, Dolly. You have been reading novels too
+much."
+
+"What novels, mother? I have not read any, except Scott's and Miss
+Austen's and 'The Scottish Chiefs.'"
+
+"Well, you have got romantic ideas, I am afraid. Your talk sounds
+romantic. You won't find that sort of man."
+
+"I don't care," said Dolly. "But if I don't, I'll never marry any other
+sort."
+
+"And that is a delusion too," said Mrs. Copley. "You will do just as
+other girls do. Nobody marries her fancy. And besides, St. Leger thinks
+he has got you; and I don't know but he and your father will manage it
+so. He don't ask _my_ advice."
+
+Now this was not quite true; for the subject of Mr. St. Leger had been
+discussed more than once between Dolly's parents; though certainly Mrs.
+Copley did see that matters were out of her hand and beyond her
+guidance now. Dolly was glad to have the conversation turn to something
+else; but the several subjects of it hardly left her head any more.
+
+It is blessedly true, that at seventeen there is a powerful spring of
+elasticity in the mind, and an inexhaustible treasury of hope; also it
+is true that Mrs. Copley was not wrong in her estimate of Dolly when
+she adjudged her to have plenty of "wit;" otherwise speaking, resources
+and acuteness. That was all true; nevertheless, Dolly's
+seventeen-year-old heart and head were greatly burdened with what they
+had to carry just now. Experience gave her no help, and the
+circumstances forbade her to depend upon the experience of her mother.
+Mrs. Copley's nerves must not be excited. So Dolly carried her burden
+alone, and found it very heavy; and debated her questions with herself,
+and could find an answer to never a one of them. How should she give
+her mother the rest and distraction of travelling? The doctor said, and
+Dolly believed, that it would be the best thing for her. But she could
+not even get speech of her father to consult over the matter with him
+Mr. Copley was caught in embarrassments of his own, worse than nervous
+ones. What could Dolly do, to break him off from his present habits,
+those she knew and those she dimly feared? Then when, as was
+inevitable, the image of Mr. St. Leger presented itself, as affording
+the readiest solution of all these problems, Dolly bounded back. Not
+_that_, of all possible outcomes of the present state of things. Dolly
+would neither be bought nor sold; would not in that way even be her
+parents' deliverer. She was sure she could not do that. What else could
+she do?
+
+She carried these questions about with her, out into the garden, and up
+into her room; and many a hot tear she shed over them, when she could
+be long enough away from her mother to let the tears dry and the signs
+of them disappear before she met Mrs. Copley's eyes again. To her eyes
+Dolly was unfailingly bright and merry; a most sweet companion and most
+entertaining society; lively, talkative, and busy with endless plans
+for her mother's amusement. Meanwhile she wrote to her father, begging
+him to come down to Brierley; she said she wanted to talk to him.
+
+Three days after that letter came Lawrence St. Leger. Mr. Copley could
+not spare the time, he reported.
+
+"Spare the time from what?" Dolly asked.
+
+"Oh, business, of course. It is always business."
+
+"What sort? Not consul business."
+
+"All sorts," said Lawrence. "He couldn't come. So he sent me. What is
+the thing, Miss Dolly? He said something was up."
+
+"I wanted to talk to my father," Dolly said coldly.
+
+"Won't I do?"
+
+"Not at all. I had business to discuss."
+
+"The journey, eh?"
+
+"That was one thing," Dolly was obliged to allow.
+
+"Well, look here. About that, I've a plan. I think I can arrange it
+with Mr. Copley, if you and your mother would be willing to set off
+with me, and let Mr. Copley join us somewhere--say at Baden Baden, or
+Venice, or where you like. He could come as soon as he was ready, you
+know."
+
+"But you know," said Dolly quietly, "I specially want _him_, himself."
+
+"But then your mother wants the journey. She really does. The doctor
+says so, you know, and I think he's right. And Mr. Copley won't leave
+London just now. He could send his secretary, you know. That's all
+right."
+
+"I must see father before I can do anything," said Dolly evasively. "I
+will write a letter for you to carry back to him. And I will go do it
+at once."
+
+"And I will take a look at what Peter is doing," said the young man.
+"Such fellows always want looking after."
+
+Dolly had looked after Peter herself. She paused before an upper window
+in her way to her room, to cast a glance down into the garden. Old
+Peter was there, at some work she had set him; and before him stood
+Lawrence, watching him, and she supposed making remarks; but at any
+rate, his air was the air of a master and of one very much at home.
+Dolly saw it, read it, stood still to read it, and turned from the
+window with her heart too full of vexation and perturbation to write
+her letter then. She felt a longing for somebody to talk to, even
+though she could by no means lay open all her case for counsel; the air
+of the house was too close for her; her breath could not be drawn free
+in that neighbourhood. She must see somebody; and no one had poor Dolly
+to go to but the housekeeper, Mrs. Jersey. Nobody, near or far. So she
+slipped out of the house and took a roundabout way to the great
+mansion. She dared not take a straight way and cross the bridge, lest
+she should be seen and followed; so she made a circuit, and got into
+the park woods only after some time of warm walking through lanes and
+over fields. Till then she had hurried; now, safe from interruption,
+she went slowly, and pondered what she was going to do or say. Pondered
+everything, and could not with all her thinking make the confusion less
+confusion. It was a warm, still, sultry day; the turf was dry, the air
+was spicy under the great trees; shadow and sunshine alternately
+crossed her path, or more correctly, her path crossed them. A certain
+sense of contrast smote her as she went. Around her were the tokens of
+a broad security, sheltering protection, quiet and immovable
+possession, careless wealth; and within her a tumult of fear,
+uncertainty, exposure, and craving need. Life seemed a very unequal
+thing to the little American girl. Her step became slower. What was she
+going to say to Mrs. Jersey? It was impossible to determine;
+nevertheless, Dolly felt that she must see her and speak to her. That
+was a necessity.
+
+Through the trees she caught at last sight of the grand old house. The
+dog knew her by this time and she did not fear him. She found the
+housekeeper busy with some sewing and glad to welcome her. Mrs. Jersey
+was that always. To-day she looked a little closer than usual at her
+visitor, discerning that Dolly's mind was not just in its wonted poise.
+And besides, she loved to look at her.
+
+Yet it is not easy to describe that for which our eyes seek and dwell
+upon a face or form. It is easy to say brown eyes and lightly curled,
+waving, beautiful hair; but hair is beautiful in different ways, and so
+faces. Can we put Dolly's charm into words? Mrs. Jersey saw a delicate,
+graceful, active figure, to begin with; delicate without any suspicion
+of weakness; active, in little quick, gracious movements, which it was
+fascinating to watch; and when not in motion, lovely in its childlike
+unconsciousness of repose. Her hair was exceedingly beautiful, not on
+account of its mass or colour so much as for the great elegance of its
+growth and curly arrangement or disarrangement around the face and
+neck; and the face was a blending of womanly and childlike. It could
+seem by turns most of the one or most of the other; but the clear eyes
+had at all times a certain deep _inwardness_, along with their bright,
+intelligent answer to the moment's impression, and also a certain
+innocent outlook, which was very captivating. And then, at a moment's
+notice, Dolly's face from being grave and thoughtful, would dimple all
+up with some flash of fun, and make you watch its change back to
+gravity again, with an intensified sense both of its merry and of its
+serious charm. She smiled at Mrs. Jersey now as she came in, but the
+housekeeper saw that the eyes had more care in their thoughtfulness
+than she was accustomed to see in them.
+
+"And how is the mother, dear?" she asked, when Dolly had drawn up a
+chair and sat down; for they were grown familiar friends by this time.
+
+"She is not getting on much, Mrs. Jersey. I wanted to talk to you about
+her. The doctor says travelling would be the best thing."
+
+"And you will go and travel? Where will you go?"
+
+"I don't know yet whether we can go anywhere. Mother wants to go."
+Dolly looked out hard into the tree groups on the lawn. They barred the
+vision.
+
+"That is one sign then that the doctor is right," said Mrs. Jersey. "It
+is good for sick folks to have what they like."
+
+"Isn't it good for people that are not sick?"
+
+"Sometimes," said Mrs. Jersey, smiling. "But sometimes not; or else the
+good Lord would let them have it, when He does not let them. What are
+_you_ wanting, Miss Dolly?"
+
+"I want everything different from what it is just now!" said Dolly, the
+tears starting to her eyes. The housekeeper was moved with a great
+sympathy; sympathy that was silent at first.
+
+"Can I help?" she asked.
+
+"Maybe you can help with your counsel," said Dolly, brushing her hand
+over her eyes; "that is what I came here for to-day. I wanted to speak
+to somebody; and I have nobody but you, Mrs. Jersey."
+
+"Your mother, my dear?"
+
+"I can't worry mother."
+
+"True. You are right. Well, my dear? What do you want counsel about?"
+
+"It is very difficult to tell you. I don't know if I can. I will try.
+One thing. Mrs. Jersey, is it right sometimes, is it a girl's duty
+ever--to sacrifice herself for her parents?".
+
+The housekeeper had not expected this form of dilemma, and hesitated a
+few minutes.
+
+"Sacrifice herself how, Miss Dolly?"
+
+"Marrying, for instance."
+
+"Marrying somebody she does not care for?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"How 'for her parents'?"
+
+"Suppose--I am just supposing,--suppose he has money, and they haven't.
+Suppose, for instance, they are in difficulties, and by her sacrificing
+herself she can put them out of difficulty? Such a case might be, you
+know."
+
+"Often has been; or at least people have thought so. But, Miss Dolly,
+where is a young lady's first duty?"
+
+"To God, of course; her first duty."
+
+"And next after God?"
+
+"To her parents, I suppose."
+
+"And besides her parents?"
+
+"I don't know; nobody, I think."
+
+"Let us see. She owes something to herself."
+
+"Does she?"
+
+"And do you not think she owes something to the other party concerned?
+don't you think she owes something to the gentleman she is to marry?"
+
+"Yes, of course," said Dolly slowly. "I do not know exactly what,
+though; nor exactly what she owes to herself."
+
+"Before taking any course of action, in a matter that is very
+important, shouldn't she look all round the subject? and see what will
+become of all these duties?"
+
+"Certainly. But the first comes first."
+
+"The first comes first. How does the first look to you?"
+
+"The first is her duty to God."
+
+"Well. What does her duty to God say?"
+
+"I don't know," said Dolly very gravely. "I am all in a puzzle.
+Something in me says one thing, and something else in me cries out
+against it. Mrs. Jersey, the Bible says, 'Honour thy father and thy
+mother.'"
+
+"Yes, and it says, 'Children, obey your parents.' But the next words
+that come after, are--'_in the Lord_.'"
+
+"How is that?"
+
+"So as you can without failing in your duty to Him."
+
+"Can duties clash?"
+
+"No," said the housekeeper, smiling; "for, as you said, 'the first
+comes first.'"
+
+"I do not understand," said Dolly. "It is my duty to obey His word; and
+His word says, obey them."
+
+"Only not when their command or wish goes against His."
+
+"Well, how would this?" said Dolly. "Suppose they wish me to marry
+somebody, and my doing so would be very good for them? The Bible says,
+'Love seeks not her own.'"
+
+"Most true," said the housekeeper, watching the tears that suddenly
+stood in Dolly's bright eyes. "But it says some other things."
+
+"What, Mrs. Jersey? Do make it clear to me if you can. I am all in a
+muddle."
+
+"My dear, I am not a very good hand to explain what I mean. But do you
+not think you owe it both to yourself and to God, not to do what would
+blast your life? you cannot serve Him so well with a blasted life."
+
+"It seems to me," said Dolly, speaking slowly, "I have a right to give
+up my own happiness. I do not see the wrong of it."
+
+"In anything else," said the housekeeper. "In anything else, my dear;
+only not in marriage! My dear, it is not simply giving up one's
+happiness; it is a long torture! No, you owe it to yourself; for in
+that way you could never grow to be what you might be. My dear, I have
+seen it tried. I have known a woman who married so, thinking that it
+would not matter so much; she fulfilled life's duties nobly, she was a
+good wife and mother and friend; but when I asked her once, after she
+had told me her story, how life had been to her?--I shall never forget
+how she turned to me and said, 'It has been a hell upon earth!' Miss
+Dolly, no good father and mother would buy _anything_ at such a price;
+and no man that really loved a woman would have her at such a price;
+and so, if you follow the rule, 'Whatsoever ye would that men should do
+to you, do ye even so to them'--you will never marry in that way."
+
+There was a little silence, and then Dolly said in an entirely changed
+tone, "You have cleared up the mist, Mrs. Jersey."
+
+"Then there is another thing," the housekeeper went on. She heard the
+change in Dolly's voice, out of which the anxiety had suddenly
+vanished, but she was willing to make assurance doubly sure. "Did you
+ever think what a woman owes to the man she marries?"
+
+"I never thought about it," said Dolly. "What a man asks for, is that
+she will marry him." How Dolly's cheeks flamed up. But she was very
+serious, and the housekeeper if possible yet more so.
+
+"Miss Dolly, she owes him the best love of her heart, after that she
+gives to God."
+
+"I don't see how she can," said Dolly. "I do not see how she _can_ love
+him so well as her father and mother."
+
+"He expects it, though, and has a right to it. And unless a woman can
+give it, she cannot be a true wife. She makes a false vow at the altar.
+And unless she do love him so, it may easily happen that she will find
+somebody afterwards that she will like better than her husband. And
+then, all is lost."
+
+"After she is married?" said Dolly.
+
+"Perhaps after she has been married for years. If she has not married
+the right man, she may find him when she cannot marry him."
+
+"But that is dreadful!" cried Dolly.
+
+"The world is a pretty mixed-up place," said the housekeeper. "I want
+_your_ way to be straight and clear, Miss Dolly."
+
+There was a pause again, at the end of which Dolly repeated, "Thank
+you, Mrs. Jersey. You have cleared up the mist for me."
+
+"I hear it in your voice," said her friend, smiling. "It has got its
+clear, sweet ring again. Is _all_ the trouble disposed of?"
+
+"Oh no!" said Dolly, a shadow crossing her face anew; "but I am
+relieved of one great perplexity. That was not all my trouble;--I
+cannot tell you all. I wish I could! One thing,--I want to see my
+father dreadfully, to talk to him about mother's going travelling; and
+I cannot get sight of him. He stays in London. And time is flying."
+
+"Write," said the housekeeper.
+
+"Oh, I have written. And I have sent messages. I would go up to London
+myself, but I cannot go alone."
+
+"Miss Dolly," said the housekeeper, after a minute's thought, "perhaps
+I can help here too. I have to go up to London for a few days, and was
+thinking to go next week. If you will trust yourself to me, I will take
+you, and take care of you."
+
+Dolly was overjoyed at this suggestion. A little more conversation to
+settle preliminaries and particulars, and Dolly set off on her way home
+with a much lightened heart.
+
+"Ah me!" thought the housekeeper, as she stood at the door looking
+after her, "how hard we do make it for each other in this world!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+THE CONSUL'S OFFICE.
+
+Before Dolly had reached home she was joined by Mr. St. Leger. He was
+still in the park.
+
+"Have you been for a walk?" said he in astonished fashion.
+
+"I suppose that would be a natural conclusion," said Dolly. She spoke
+easily; it rejoiced her to find how easily she could now meet Mr. St.
+Leger. Yet the game was not all played out, either.
+
+"Why didn't you let me know, that I might go with you?" he went on.
+
+"That was not in my purpose," rejoined Dolly lightly.
+
+"That is very unkind, Dolly."
+
+"Truth is never unkind."
+
+"Yes, indeed, it may be; it is now."
+
+"Would you like falsehood better?"
+
+"You need not be false."
+
+"I must be either false or true, must I not? Which would you rather
+have, Mr. St. Leger?"
+
+"It would be no good, my choosing," said he, with a half laugh; "for
+you would never give me anything but absolute truth, I know. I believe
+that is one of your attractions, Dolly. All other girls put on
+something, and a fellow never can tell what he is served to, the dish
+is spiced so cleverly. But you are like a piece of game, with no
+flavour but your own; and that is wild enough, and rare enough too."
+
+"Mr. St. Leger," said Dolly gravely, "you ought to study rhetoric.''
+
+"Have. Why?"
+
+"I am afraid that last speech was rather mixed up."
+
+"Look here,--I wish you'd call me Lawrence. We know each other quite
+well enough."
+
+"Is that the custom in your country?"
+
+"It is going to be your country, as well. You need not speak in that
+fashion."
+
+"I am thinking of leaving the country," Dolly went on unconcernedly.
+"Mother is longing to travel; and I am going to bring it about."
+
+"I have tried Mr. Copley on that subject, I assure you."
+
+"I shall try now, and do it."
+
+"Think so? Then we will consult about plans and routes again this
+evening. Mrs. Copley likes that almost as well as the thing itself.
+For, Dolly, you cannot get along without me."
+
+Which assertion Dolly left uncontroverted.
+
+A few days after Lawrence had gone back to town was the time for Mrs.
+Jersey's journey. Dolly told her mother her plan; and after a deal of
+doubts and fears and arguings on Mrs. Copley's part, it was finally
+agreed to. It seemed the hopefullest thing to do; and Mrs. Copley could
+be left well enough with the servants for a few days. So, early one
+morning Mrs. Jersey called for her, and Dolly with a beating heart
+kissed her mother and went off.
+
+Some business reasons occasioned the housekeeper to make the journey in
+a little covered carriage belonging to the house, instead of taking the
+public post-coach. It was all the pleasanter for Dolly, being entirely
+private and quiet; though the time consumed was longer. They were then
+in the end of summer; the weather was delicious and warm; the country
+rich in flowers and grain fields and ripening fruit. Dolly at first was
+full of delight, the change and the novelty were so welcome, and the
+country through which they drove was so exceeding lovely. Nevertheless,
+as the day went by there began to creep over her a strange feeling of
+loneliness; a feeling of being out on the journey of life all by
+herself and left to her own skill and resources. It was not the journey
+to London; for _that_ she was well accompanied and provided; it was the
+real undertaking upon which she had set out, the goal of which was not
+London but--her father. To find her father not only, but to keep him;
+to prevent his being lost to himself, lost to her mother, to life, and
+to her. Could she? Or was she embarked on an enterprise beyond her
+strength? A weak girl; what was she, to do so much! It grew and pressed
+upon her, this feeling of being alone and busy with a work too great
+for her; till gradually the lovely country through which she was
+passing ceased to be lovely; it might have been a wilderness, for all
+its cheer or promise to her. Dolly had talked at first, in simple,
+gleeful, girlish pleasure; little by little her words grew fewer, her
+eye lost its glad life; until she sat back, withdrawn into herself, and
+spoke no more unless spoken to.
+
+The housekeeper noticed the change, saw and read the abstracted,
+thoughtful look that had taken place of the gay, interested delight of
+the morning. She perceived that Dolly had serious work on hand, of some
+sort; and she longed to help her. For the fair, sweet, womanly
+thoughtfulness was as lofty and lovely in its way, as the childlike
+simplicity of enjoyment before had been bewitching. She was glad when
+the day's ride came to an end.
+
+The stoppage was made at a little wayside inn; a low building of grey
+stone, overgrown with ivy and climbing roses, with a neatly kept bit of
+grass in front. Here Dolly's interest and delight awoke again. This was
+something unlike all she had ever seen. Simple and plain enough the inn
+was; stone flooring and wooden furniture of heavy and ancient pattern
+made it that; but at the same time it was substantial, comfortable,
+neat as wax, and with a certain air of well-to-do thrift which was very
+pleasant. Mrs. Jersey was known here and warmly received. The
+travellers were shown into a cosy little room, brown wainscoted, and
+with a great jar of flowers in the chimney; and here the cloth was
+immediately laid for their dinner, or supper. For the supper itself
+they had to wait a little; and after putting off her bonnet and
+refreshing herself in an inner room, Dolly sat down by one of the small
+windows. The day was declining. Slant sunbeams shot across a wide plain
+and threw long shadows from the trees. The trees, especially those
+overhanging the inn, were old and large and fine; the lights and
+shadows were moveless, calm, peaceful; one or two neighbouring fields
+were stocked with beautiful cattle; and a flock of geese went waddling
+along over the green. It was removed from all the scenes of Dolly's
+experience; as unlike them as her being there alone was unlike the rest
+of her life; in the strangeness there was this time an element of
+relief.
+
+"How beautiful the world is, Mrs. Jersey!" she remarked.
+
+"You find it so here?" answered her friend.
+
+"Why, yes, I do. Don't you?"
+
+"I suppose I am spoiled, Miss Dolly, by being accustomed to Brierley."
+
+"Oh, this is not Brierley! but I am not comparing them. This is very
+pretty, Mrs. Jersey! Why, Mrs. Jersey, you don't despise a daisy
+because it isn't a rose!"
+
+"No," said her friend; "but I suppose I cannot see the daisy when the
+rose is by." She was looking at Dolly.
+
+"Well," said Dolly, "the rose is not by; and I like this very much.
+What a neat house! and what a pleasant sort of comfort there is about
+everything. I would not have missed this, Mrs. Jersey, for a good deal."
+
+"I am glad, Miss Dolly. I was thinking you were not taking much good of
+your day's ride--the latter part."
+
+Dolly was silent, looking out now somewhat soberly upon the smiling
+scene; then she jumped up and threw off her gravity, and came to the
+supper-table. It was spread with exquisite neatness, and appetising
+nicety. Dolly found herself hungry. If but her errand to London had
+been of a less serious and critical character, she could have greatly
+enjoyed the adventure and its picturesque circumstances. With the
+elastic strength of seventeen, however, she did enjoy it, even so.
+
+"How good you are to me, Mrs. Jersey!" she said, after the table was
+cleared and the two were sitting in the falling twilight. The still
+peace outside and inside the house had found its way to Dolly's heart.
+There was the brooding hush of the summer evening, marked, not broken,
+by sounds of insects or lowing of cattle, and the voices of farm
+servants attending to their work. It was yet bright outside, though the
+sun had long gone down; inside the house shades were gathering.
+
+"I wish I could be good to you, Miss Dolly," was the housekeeper's
+answer.
+
+"Oh, you are! I do not know what in the world I should have done, if
+you had not let me go with you to London now."
+
+"What can I do for you when we get there?"
+
+"Oh, nothing! thank you."
+
+"You know exactly where to go and what to do?"
+
+"I shall take a cab and go--let me see,--yes, to father's rooms. If I
+do not find him there, I must go to his office."
+
+"In the City?"
+
+"Yes. Will that be very far from your house? Why, yes, of course; we
+shall be at the West End. Well, all the same, near or far, I must see
+my father."
+
+"You must be so good as to let me go in the cab with you," said Mrs.
+Jersey. "I cannot let you drive all about London alone by yourself."
+
+"Oh, thank you!" said Dolly again, with an undoubted accent of relief.
+"But"----
+
+That sentence remained unfinished. Dolly meditated. So did the
+housekeeper. She was wise enough to see that all was not exactly clear
+and fair in her young friend's path; of what nature the trouble might
+be she could only surmise.
+
+"What if Mr. Copley should not be in London?" she ventured.
+
+"Oh, he must be. At least he was there a very few days ago. He never is
+away from London, except when he goes to visit somewhere."
+
+"It is coming towards the time now when the gentlemen go down into the
+country to shoot."
+
+"Father does not care for shooting. I mean to get him to go to Venice
+instead, with mother and me."
+
+"Suppose you should fail in that plan, Miss Dolly? is your business
+done then?"
+
+"No. Oh no!" said Dolly, for a moment covering her face with her hands.
+"O Mrs. Jersey! if I could not manage that, I do not know what I should
+do!" Dolly's voice had a premonition of despair. "But I guess I can do
+it," she added with a resumption of cheerfulness. And she talked on
+from that time merrily of other things.
+
+When they arrived in London next day, it was already too late for Dolly
+to do anything. She was fain to let Mrs. Jersey lodge her and feast her
+and pet her to her heart's content. She was put in a pretty room in the
+great house; she was entertained royally, as far as the viands went;
+and in every imaginable way the housekeeper was carefully kind. Well
+for Dolly; who needed all the help of kindness and care. The whole long
+day she had been brooding on what she had to do, and trying to imagine
+how things would be. Without data, that is a specially wearisome
+occupation; inasmuch as one may imagine anything, and there is nothing
+to contradict the most extravagant speculations. Dolly's head and heart
+were tired by the time night came, and her nerves in an excited
+condition, to which Mrs. Jersey's ministrations and the interest of the
+place gave a welcome relief. Dolly tried to put off thought. But
+everything pressed upon her, now that she was so near seeing her
+father; and seventeen-years-old felt as if it had a great load on its
+young shoulders.
+
+"Mrs. Jersey," she began, after supper, "you are quite sure that it is
+never right for a girl to sacrifice herself for the sake of benefiting
+her parents?"
+
+"In the way of marrying a man she does not love? Miss Dolly, a
+Christian man would never have a young lady marry him on those terms."
+
+"Suppose he is not a Christian man?"
+
+"Then he may be selfish enough to do it. But in that case, Miss Dolly,
+a Christian woman can have nothing to say to him."
+
+"Why not? She might bring _him_ to be Christian, you know."
+
+"That isn't the Lord's way, Miss Dolly."
+
+"What is His way, then?"
+
+"You will find it in the sixth chapter of 2nd Corinthians. 'Be not
+unequally yoked together with unbelievers.'"
+
+"But that means"----
+
+"It _says_--Miss Dolly; it _says_,--do not be yoked up with one who is
+not following the Lord; neither in marriage, nor in business. Two oxen
+in a yoke, Miss Dolly, have to pull the same way; and if they don't
+want to, the weakest must go with the strongest."
+
+"But might not the Christian one be the strongest?"
+
+"His disobeyeing the Lord's command just shows he isn't that."
+
+Dolly let the subject drop. She took a little cushion and sat down by
+her friend's side and laid her head in her lap; and they sat so a
+while, Mrs. Jersey looking fondly down upon the very lovely bright head
+on her knees, and marvelling sorrowfully at the fathers and mothers who
+prepare trouble for such tender and delicate creatures as their young
+daughters.
+
+The next morning she admired her charge under a new view of her. Dolly
+appeared at breakfast with a calm, measured manner, which, if it were
+in part the effect of great pressure upon her spirits, had at the same
+time the grace of a very finished breeding. Mrs. Jersey looked and
+admired, and wondered too. How had the little American got this air?
+She could not put it on herself; but she had seen her mistresses in the
+great world wear it; a certain unconscious, disengaged dignity which
+sat marvellously well upon the gracious softness and young beauty of
+this little girl.
+
+The breakfast was rather silent. The drive, which they entered upon
+immediately after, was almost wholly so. Mrs. Jersey, true to her
+promise, let her own affairs wait, and accompanied her young friend.
+Dolly had changed her plan, and went now first to Mr. Copley's office
+in the city. It was the hour when he should be there, and to go to his
+lodging would have taken them out of the way. So they drove the long
+miles from Grosvenor Square to the American Consul's office. Dolly's
+mood was eager and hopeful now; yet with too much pressure to allow of
+her talking.
+
+The cab stopped opposite the entrance of a narrow covered way between
+two walls of houses. Following this narrow passage, Mrs. Jersey and
+Dolly emerged into a little court, very small, on one side of which two
+or three steps led to the American Consul's offices. The first one they
+entered was full of people, waiting to see the Consul or parleyeing
+with one or another of the clerks. Dolly left Mrs. Jersey there to wait
+for her, and herself went on into the inner room, her father's special
+private office. In those days the office of American Consul was of far
+more importance and dignity than to-day; and this room was a tolerably
+comfortable one and respectably furnished.
+
+Here, however, her father was not; and it immediately struck Dolly that
+he had not been there very lately. How she gathered this impression is
+less easy to tell, for she could hardly be said to see distinctly any
+one of the characters in which the fact was written. She did not know
+that dust lay thick on his writing-table, and that even the papers
+piled there were brown with it; she did not know that the windows were
+fastened down this warm day, nor that an arm-chair which usually stood
+there for the accommodation of visitors was gone, having been slipped
+into the outer office by an ease-loving clerk. It was a general air of
+forsakenness, visible in these and in yet slighter signs, which struck
+Dolly's sense. She stood a moment, bewildered, hoping against sense, as
+it were; then turned about. As she turned she was met by a young man
+who had followed her in from the outer office. Dolly faced him.
+
+"Where is Mr. Copley?"
+
+"He ain't here." The Yankee accents of home were unmistakeable.
+
+"I see he is not here; but where is he?"
+
+"Couldn't say, reelly. 'Spect he's to his place. We don't ginerally
+expect ladies at this time o' day, or I guess he'd ha' ben on hand."
+The clerk grinned at Dolly's beauty, the like of which to be sure was
+not often seen anywhere at that, or any other, time of day.
+
+"When was Mr. Copley here, sir?"
+
+"Couldn't say. 'Tain't very long, nother. Was you wantin' to see him on
+an a'pintment?"
+
+"No. I am Miss Copley. Where can I find my father? Please tell me as
+quick as you can."
+
+"Sartain--ef I knowed it. Now I wisht I did! Mr. Copley, he comes and
+he goes, and he don't tell me which way; and there it is, you see."
+
+"Where is Mr. St. Leger?"
+
+"Mr. Silliger? Don't know the gentleman. Likely Mr. Copley doos. But he
+ain't here to say. Mebbe it 'ud be a good plan to make a note of it.
+That's what Mr. Copley allays says; 'make a note of it.'"
+
+"You do not know, sir, perhaps, whether Mr. Copley is in London?"
+
+"He was in London--'taint very long ago, for he was in this here
+office, and I see him; but that warn't yesterday, and it warn't the day
+before. Where he's betaken himself between whiles, ain't known to me.
+Shall I make a note, miss, against he comes?"
+
+
+"No," said Dolly, turning away; "no need. And no use."
+
+She rejoined Mrs. Jersey and they went back to the carriage.
+
+"He is not there," she said excitedly; "and he has not been there for
+several days. We must go to his lodgings--all the way back almost!"
+
+"Never mind," said the housekeeper. "We have the day before us."
+
+"It is almost twelve," said Dolly, looking at her watch. "Before we get
+there it will be one. I am a great deal of trouble to you, I fear, Mrs.
+Jersey; more than I meant to be."
+
+"My dear, it's no trouble. I am happy to be of any use to you. What
+sort of a chain is that you wear, Miss Dolly?"
+
+"Curious, isn't it?" said Dolly. "It was given me long ago. It is woven
+of threads of a ship cable."
+
+"It is a beautiful chain," said her friend, examining it admiringly.
+"But that is very clever, Miss Dolly! I should never fancy it was a
+piece of cable. Is there an anchor anywhere?"
+
+"No," said Dolly, laughing. "Though I am not sure," she added
+thoughtfully. "My memory goes back along this chain a great way;--back
+to the time when I was a little girl, quite little, and very happy at
+school and with a dear aunt, whom I lived with then. And back there at
+the end of the chain are all those pleasant images; and one most
+beautiful day, when we went to visit a ship; a great man-of-war. A most
+beautiful day!" Dolly repeated with the accent of loving recollection.
+
+"And you brought back a piece of cable from the ship, and braided this?"
+
+"No. Oh no! I did not do it; I could not. It was done for me."
+
+"By a friend's fingers?"
+
+"Yes, I suppose you may say so," said Dolly; "though it is a friend I
+have never seen since then. I suppose I never shall. But I always wear
+the chain. Oh, how long that seems ago!--Is childhood the happiest time
+of a person's life, Mrs. Jersey?"
+
+"Maybe I might say yes. Miss Dolly; but if I did, I should mean not
+what you mean. I should mean the little-child life that one can have
+when one is old. When the heart says, 'Not my will, but Thine'--when it
+says, 'Speak, Lord, for Thy servant heareth.' You know, the Master
+said, 'Except ye become as little children, ye shall not enter into the
+kingdom of heaven.'"
+
+"I don't believe I am just as much of a child, then, as I used to be,"
+remarked Dolly.
+
+"Get back to it, my dear, as fast as you can."
+
+"But when one _isn't_ a child, things are so different. It is easy to
+trust and give up for a child's things; but when one is a woman"----
+
+"It is just the same, dear Miss Dolly! Our great affairs, they are but
+child's matters to the Lord's eyes. The difference is in
+ourselves--when our hearts get proud, and our self-will gets up."
+
+"I wish I could be like a child now," said Dolly from the depths of her
+heart. "I feel as if I were carrying the whole family on my shoulders,
+and as if _I_ must do it."
+
+"You cannot, my dear! Your shoulders will break. 'Casting your care
+upon Him,' the Bible says--'for He careth for you.'"
+
+"One does not see Him"---- said Dolly, with her eyes very full.
+
+"Faith can see," the housekeeper returned; and then there was a long
+silence; while the carriage rattled along over the streets, and
+threaded its way through the throng of business, or bread-seekers or
+pleasure-seekers. So many people! Dolly wondered if every one of them
+carried his secret burden of care, as she was doing; and if they were,
+she wondered how the world lived on and bore the multitudinous strain.
+Oh, to be a child, in the full, blessed sense of the term!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+A FIGHT.
+
+The cab stopped, and Dolly's heart gave a great thump against her ribs.
+What was she afraid of?
+
+Mrs. Jersey said she would wait in the cab, and Dolly applied herself
+to the door-knocker. A servant came, a stupid one seemingly.
+
+"Is Mr. Copley at home?"
+
+"I dunno."
+
+"Will you find out, please?"
+
+"Jemima, who's that?" called a voice of authority from behind the
+scenes.
+
+"Somebody arter the gentleman, ma'am. I dunno, is he in his room?"
+
+The owner of the voice came forward; a portly, respectable landlady.
+She surveyed Dolly, glanced at the cab, became very civil, invited
+Dolly in, and sent the maid upstairs to make inquiries, declaring she
+did not know herself whether the gentleman were out or in. Dolly would
+not sit down. The girl brought down word that Mr. Copley was not out of
+his bedroom yet.
+
+"I went in the parlour, ma'am, and knocked, ma'am; and I might as well
+ha' axed my broom, ma'am."
+
+"I'll go up," said Dolly hastily; and waiting for no answer, she
+brushed past landlady and maid and ran up the stairs. Then paused.
+
+"Which rooms? on the first floor?"
+
+The woman of the house came bustling after her up the stairs and opened
+the door of a sitting-room. It was very comfortably furnished.
+
+"You couldn't go wrong, ma'am," she said civilly, "I 'ave no one in my
+rooms at this present, except Mr. Copley. I suppose you are his
+daughter, ma'am?"
+
+"His daughter," Dolly repeated, standing still and facing the landlady,
+and keeping down all outward expression of the excitement which was
+consuming her. She knew she kept it down; she faced the woman steadily
+and calmly, and the landlady was more and more humbly civil. "Mr.
+Copley is not ill?" Dolly went on.
+
+"Oh, dear, no, ma'am! not to call h'ill. Mr. Copley is in enjoyment of
+very good 'ealth; as I 'ave occasion to know, ma'am, who cooks his
+meals for him. I can allers tell by that. When a gentleman or a lady
+'as good taste for their victuals, I think it's no 'arm if they sleeps
+a little long in the morning; it's a trifle onconvenient to the 'ouse,
+it may be, when things is standing roun', but it's good for
+theirselves, no doubt, and satisfyin' and they'll be ready for their
+breakfast when they comes h'out. And shall I wake Mr. Copley for you,
+ma'am? It's time for him, to be sure."
+
+"Thank you, no; you need not do anything. I will sit here and wait a
+little."
+
+"And Mr. Copley's coffee'll be ready for him, ma'am, when he's ready
+for h'it. Mr. Copley, he sets a good deal by his coffee, and likes it
+made particular, and he _gets_ it made particular. Didn't Mr. Copley
+tell you, ma'am, as his coffee was satisfactory?"
+
+"I daresay it is," said Dolly; "and I will ring for it when my father
+wants it. You may leave me; I will wait here."
+
+The landlady had been going round the room, picking up a bit of paper
+here and wiping her apron over a table there, the while taking a
+careful view of Dolly and examining her all over. Dolly's figure and
+manner were irreproachable; and with renewed proffers of service, the
+woman at last, having no choice, left the room. Dolly stood still a
+moment then, collecting herself and looking at the situation. Past one
+o'clock, and her father not out of his room! That was not like any of
+his habits, as she knew them; and Dolly stood with the shadow of a
+nameless fear falling across her spirit. Nameless, and formless; she
+did not discern it clearly or attempt to examine it; the mere shadow of
+it chilled her to the bone. She stood thinking, and trembling. Not at
+his office for several days, though business must be calling for him;
+not out of his room at one o'clock in the afternoon, though all his old
+simple home habits were opposed to such a waste of daylight! Should she
+try to arouse him? Dolly did try, after a little while; for she could
+not bear the still waiting; she knocked at the inner door; but she got
+no response. Then she went down to Mrs. Jersey at the cab, and told her
+the state of the case, begging her to go away and not wait any longer.
+_She_ must wait, and it was impossible to say how long.
+
+"Miss Dolly, does your father often rise so late?"
+
+"They say so. He never used, but it seems he does now."
+
+"It's the way with a many," said the housekeeper. "Never mind me, my
+dear. I'll wait here, or if I get tired of that, I will come in and sit
+with the landlady. I shall not leave you."
+
+Inwardly thankful, Dolly went back to her post and sat down and looked
+around her. She could tell nothing by the room or its contents. Both
+were nice enough; there was a slight smell of cigars, that was all to
+find fault with. Dolly waited. The stillness grew dreadful. To
+seventeen years old the first trouble comes hard; albeit seventeen
+years old has also a great fund of spirit and strength to meet and
+conquer trouble. But what was the trouble here? It was not the unusual
+scantiness of means; _that_ could soon be made right, if other things
+were not wrong which wrought to cause it. On the other hand, if her
+father had fallen irreparably into bad habits--Dolly would not admit
+the "irreparably" into her thoughts. But it was bitter to her that
+children should ever have to find their parents in the wrong; dreadful
+to have occasion to be ashamed of them. She knew, if her case proved
+such a one, it would be only one of a great many; she had read of such
+things, although chiefly among another class of people who were of
+coarser habits and duller natures, and if they fell had less distance
+to fall to get to the lowest level of society. But _her father!_--Dolly
+cowered with her head down upon the back of a chair, and a cry in her
+heart calling upon his name. Her father? could she have to blush for
+him? All her nature revolted against it; the thought came over her as a
+thick black cloud, so thick that for the moment light was banished from
+all her little landscape. Oh, how can fathers do such things! and how
+can daughters live under them! Death might be borne easier; but
+disgrace? Death would leave the loved one still her own; disgrace
+seemed to have a power of annihilation. Still, Dolly knew not that such
+trouble was really come upon her; alas, she did know too well that the
+fear of it had. And what a descent did that alone imply! She raised her
+head again, and sat with dry eyes and a beating heart, waiting.
+
+At last she was sure she heard some movement in the inner room. She
+heard the click of things that were moved; the fall of a chair that was
+knocked over, sounds of steps. Finally the door opened, and Mr. Copley
+appeared on the threshold. The sight of him smote his daughter. His
+dress was carelessly thrown on; _that_ was not so very remarkable, for
+Mr. Copley never was an exact man in matters of the toilet. It was not
+merely that. But Dolly's eye saw that his step was unsteady, his face
+dull and flushed, and his eye had a look which even a very little
+experience understands. His air was haggard, spiritless, hopeless; so
+unlike the alert, self-sufficient, confident manner of old, that
+Dolly's heart got a great wrench. And something in the whole image was
+so inexpressibly pitiful to her, that she did the very last thing it
+had been in her purpose to do; she fled to him with one bound, threw
+herself on his breast, and burst into a heartbreak of tears.
+
+Poor Mr. Copley was greatly startled and sorely perplexed. He had not
+been prepared to see his daughter; and though miserably conscious that
+he offered ground enough himself for Dolly's passion, he could not yet
+be sure that it concerned him. It might be wrought by some other cause;
+and in sore dismay and uncertainty he was not able to bring out a word
+of question. Dolly sobbed, and sobbed; and putting her arms up around
+his neck strained him in an embrace that was most pitifully longing and
+tender. Mr. Copley felt the pitifulness; he did not know what it meant.
+It was not till Dolly had released him and was trying to dry her eyes
+that he brought out a question.
+
+"What's the matter with you, Dolly?"
+
+Dolly heard the thick and lumbering accent of his words, and burst
+forth in a despairing cry. "O father! what is the matter with you?"
+
+"I'm all right," said poor Mr. Copley. "I'm all right. What are you
+here for?"
+
+"I wanted to see you. Why did you never come down? You haven't been
+near us."
+
+"I was coming--hindered always--I was coming, Dolly. How's your mother?"
+
+Dolly made a great effort after voice and calmness.
+
+"She is well--I mean, she is no worse than usual. Will you have your
+coffee, father?"
+
+But Dolly's voice choked with a sob. Mr. Copley looked at her in a
+helpless kind of way and made no answer. Dolly rang the bell.
+
+"How--a--how did you get here?" was the next question, put in evident
+embarrassment.
+
+"You wouldn't come to Brierley, father; so I had to come to London. I
+came with a friend."
+
+"St. Leger?"
+
+"St. Leger! No, indeed. Oh, I came with a very nice friend, who took
+good care of me. Now, here's your breakfast."
+
+Dolly was glad of the chance to get upon common everyday ground, till
+her breath should be free again. She helped arrange the dishes;
+dismissed the maid; poured out Mr. Copley's coffee and served him.
+
+"Better take some yourself, Dolly. Had your breakfast? Let Mrs. Bunce
+do you another chop."
+
+Dolly at first said no; but presently felt that she was faint and
+exhausted, and agreed to the suggestion. She rang for another cup and
+plate, and ordered the chop. Meanwhile Mr. Copley drank coffee and made
+a poor hand of the rest of his breakfast.
+
+"What did you come up for, Dolly?"
+
+"To see you, sir."
+
+"You might have waited for that."
+
+"But how long? I had waited."
+
+"What's up?--if your mother's well."
+
+"I wanted to talk to you, father, and I couldn't do it in letters;
+because there the talking was all on one side, and I wanted to hear
+what you would say."
+
+"Why, didn't I answer you?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Well, what do you want, Dolly?"
+
+"I want a great deal, father. Wait, please, till I get my chop; for I
+cannot talk to you till I do."
+
+"'Ill talking between a full man and a fasting,' eh? Well, here's your
+breakfast."
+
+It was only the bespoken cup and plate, however, and Mr. Copley had to
+wait longer. It came at last, the chop; and till it came Dolly said no
+more. Her father watched her, and watched her, and could not take his
+eyes off her. The flush on her cheek and the sparkle in her eye, the
+moisture still lingering on her eyelashes, how sweet she was! and how
+indefinably lovely! Dolly had grown into a woman; she had the presence
+and poise that belong to a high-bred woman; and yet she had not lost
+her girlhood nor grown out of its artless graces; and as Mr. Copley
+looked he saw now and then a very childlike trembling of the under lip.
+It troubled his heart. He had been very uncomfortable ever since his
+meeting with his daughter; the discomfort began now to develope into
+the stings and throes of positive pain. What was she there for? whence
+had come that agony of tears? and why when those tears were pouring
+from her eyes did her soft arm clasp him so? did she want help from
+him? or for him? Mr. Copley grew extremely uneasy; restless and
+fidgeting. Dolly ate her chop and her potatoe, needing it, I fancy; and
+perhaps she wanted to gain time too. Mr. Copley had no appetite. He had
+none to begin with, and certainly Dolly's appearance had not given him
+what he had not before.
+
+"You don't make much of a breakfast, father," Dolly observed.
+
+"Never do," he returned. "No time to eat, when a man has just got up. A
+cup of coffee is the only thing. The French way is the best."
+
+"You did not use to be up so late, in the old days."
+
+"Don't think it's the best time either; but--you must do as the rest of
+the world do; swim with the--what is it?--swim with the current."
+
+"How if the current goes the wrong way?"
+
+"Can't help yourself; you must go along, if you are in it."
+
+Dolly was silent, finishing her luncheon. She ate fast and hurriedly.
+Then she pushed her chair away and came round and sat upon her father's
+knee; laying one arm round his neck and looking into his face.
+
+"Father," she said in her clear, musical voice, sweet as a bird's
+notes,--"father, suppose we get out of the current?"
+
+"What current do you mean? It makes a great confusion to try to have
+your meals at a different hour from the rest of the world."
+
+"I don't mean that, father."
+
+"What have you come up to town for?"
+
+"To see about it," said Dolly, with a smile that dimpled her cheeks
+most charmingly, and covered the anxiety she did not want to show.
+
+"To see about what? Dolly, you are grown a woman."
+
+"Yes, father."
+
+"And, I declare you're a beautiful woman, child. It's time we were
+thinking of getting you married."
+
+"You're not in a hurry, are you, father?"
+
+"In a hurry!" said Mr. Copley, gazing at her admiringly. "Why, yes. I
+want you to be married while you can choose your place in the world,
+and enjoy it when you have got it. And you can choose now, Dolly."
+
+"What, sir?"
+
+"Your husband."
+
+"But, father," cried Dolly, while her cheeks covered themselves with
+the most brilliant roses, "I cannot choose what is not presented to my
+choice!"
+
+"No, child; take what _is_. That's what I am thinking of. Good enough
+too. Don't you like the ticket you have drawn?"
+
+"Father," said Dolly, turning the tables now on her side, and laying
+her face in his neck, "I wish you would have nothing to do with
+lotteries or gaming!"
+
+"I have nothing to do with lotteries, child."
+
+"But with gaming?"
+
+"What put such a thing into your head?"
+
+Dolly hesitated, strained him a little closer in her embrace, and did
+not answer directly.
+
+"Father, I wish you would!"
+
+"What folly are you talking, Dolly?" said Mr. Copley angrily. "You are
+meddling with what you do not understand."
+
+But Dolly only clung closer, and having once broken the ice would not
+now give back. She must speak now.
+
+"Father," she said, half sobbing, yet commanding the sobs down, "we are
+getting ruined. We are losing each other. Mother and I live alone--we
+do not see you--we are poor--we have not money to pay our dues--mother
+is not getting better--and I am breaking my heart about her, and about
+you. O father, let us come and live together again."
+
+Dolly got no answer to this outburst, and hardly was conscious that she
+got none, she was so eagerly trying to swallow down the emotion which
+threatened to master her voice. Mr. Copley had no answer ready.
+
+"Father," Dolly began again, "mother wants to travel; she wants to go
+to Venice. Suppose we go?"
+
+"Can't travel without money, Dolly. You say we haven't any."
+
+"Would it cost more to travel than to live as we are living?"
+
+"You say we cannot do that."
+
+"Father, do _you_ say so?"
+
+"I am merely repeating your statements, Dolly, to show you how like a
+child you talk."
+
+"Answer me as if I were a child then, father, and tell me what we can
+do. But _don't_ let us go on living as we are doing!"
+
+"I thought I had done the very best thing possible for your mother,
+when I got her that place down at--I forget what's the name of the
+place."
+
+"Brierley."
+
+"I thought I had done the very best thing for her, when I settled her
+there. Now she is tired of it."
+
+"But father, we cannot pay our way; and it worries her."
+
+"She is always worrying about something or other. If it wasn't that, it
+would be something else. Any man may be straightened for cash now and
+then. It happens to everybody. It is nothing to make a fuss about."
+
+"But, father, if I cannot pay the servants, _they_ must be without cash
+too; and that is hard on poor people."
+
+"Not half so hard as on people above them," replied her father hastily.
+"They have ways and means; and they don't have a tenth or a hundredth
+as many wants, anyhow."
+
+"But those they have are wants of necessary things," urged Dolly.
+
+"Well, what do you want me to do?" said Mr. Copley, with as much of
+harshness in his manner as ever could come out towards Dolly. "I cannot
+coin money for you, well as I would like to do it."
+
+"Father, let us take what we have got, and go to Venice! all together.
+We'll travel ever so cheaply and live ever so plainly; only let us go!
+Only let us go!"
+
+"Think your mother'd like travelling second-class?" said Mr. Copley in
+the same way.
+
+"She wouldn't mind so very much; and I wouldn't mind it at all. If we
+could only go."
+
+"And what is to become of my business?"
+
+Dolly did not dare give the answer that rose to her tongue, nor let her
+father know how much she knew. She came up on another side of the
+subject, and insisted that the consulate might be dispensed with. Mr.
+Copley did not need the office and might well be tired of it by this
+time. Dolly pleaded, and her father heard her with a half embarrassed,
+half sullen face; feeling her affectionate entreaties more than was at
+all convenient, and conscious at the same time of a whole side of his
+life that he would be ashamed his daughter should know; and afraid of
+her guessing it. Alas, for father and child both, when such a state of
+things comes about!
+
+"Come, father!" said Dolly at last, touching her forehead to his
+forehead in a sweet kind of caress,--"I want you."
+
+"Suppose I find somebody else to go with you instead of me?"
+
+"Nobody else will do. Come, father! Do come."
+
+"You might set off with Lawrence," said Mr. Copley as if considering,
+"and I might join you afterwards; at Venice, perhaps, or Nice, or
+somewhere. Hey?"
+
+"That won't do. I would not go with Mr. Lawrence."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Too much of an honour for him."
+
+"You need not be afraid of showing him too much honour, for he is
+willing to give you the greatest man can give to a woman."
+
+Dolly coloured again, and again touched her forehead to her father's
+forehead and sat so, leaning against him. Maybe with an instinct of
+hiding her cheeks.
+
+"Father, let us go to Venice!" she began again, leaving Mr. St. Leger.
+"Just think what fun it would be, to go all together. We have been
+living so long without you. I believe it would just make mother up.
+Think of seeing Venice together, father!--and then maybe we would go on
+to Geneva and get a look at Mont Blanc."
+
+"Geneva is a place for lovers," said Mr. Copley.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Romantic."
+
+"Can't anybody else be romantic, except that sort of people? I am
+romantic,--and I do not care a straw about anybody but mother and you."
+
+"Don't tell Mr. St. Leger that."
+
+"He might as well know it. Come, father! Say you'll go."
+
+It was hard to withstand her. The pure, gentle intonations rang upon
+Mr. Copley's soul almost like bells of doom, because he did withstand
+her. She was his saving good angel; he half knew it; he was ashamed
+before his child, and conscience knocked hard at the door of his heart;
+but the very shame he felt before her made her presence irksome to him,
+while yet it was, oh, so sweet! Alas, "he that doeth evil hateth the
+light." He was entangled in more than one sort of net, and he lacked
+moral power to break the meshes. The gentle fingers that were busy with
+the net, trying to unloose it, were a reproach and a torment to him.
+She _must_ marry St. Leger; so his thoughts ran; it was the best thing
+that could happen to her; it was the best he could do for her. Then she
+would be secure, at all events.
+
+"Dolly, why don't you like Lawrence?" he began.
+
+"He's too handsome, father,--for one thing."
+
+"I never heard of such a reason for a lady's dislike. That's play,
+Dolly."
+
+"And he knows it; there's another thing."
+
+"Well, of course he knows it. How can he help knowing it?"
+
+"And he's too rich."
+
+"Dolly, you are talking nonsense."
+
+"And he knows that."
+
+"He doesn't know he's _too_ rich," said Mr. Copley, with a little
+bitterness. "No St. Leger ever did that."
+
+"Well, father, that's what he is. Very handsome, and very rich. He is
+nothing else. He would suit some people admirably; but he don't suit
+me."
+
+"What sort of thing would suit you?"
+
+"A very perverse sort of a person, who is called Frank Collinshaw
+Copley."
+
+"Well, you've got me," said her father, laughing a little at her. He
+could not help it. "You want something else besides."
+
+"I don't, father, indeed."
+
+"And, my child, money is necessary in this world. You cannot get along
+without money."
+
+"Father, will you come to Venice? and we'll get along with very little
+money. Father, we _must_ go, for mother. The doctor says so, and she is
+just longing to go. We ought to go as soon as ever you can be ready."
+
+"You show how much you know about it, when you talk of Venice and a
+_little_ money! You had better take Mr. St. Leger."
+
+"Father, everybody says living is cheap in Switzerland."
+
+"You talked of Venice."
+
+"And Italy. The doctor says mother ought to stay some time at Nice, or
+Naples. Father, you can arrange it. Do! Give up the consulate, and let
+us take mother to Italy; and then home if you like. I don't much care,
+so that we have you." And again Dolly's forehead bent over to give a
+soft impact to her father's brown brow.
+
+"Who did you come to town with?" he said suddenly. She told him.
+
+"Well, now you had better go back with her, and I will see what I can
+do."
+
+"You will go, father?"
+
+"If I cannot immediately, I will send you and come on after."
+
+"I cannot go without you, father. Oh, come, come!" And Dolly rained
+kisses upon his face, and stroked his forehead and cheeks, and was so
+entirely delicious in her tenderness and her sweetness, her love and
+her anxiety, that the heart of ordinary man could not stand it.
+Anything else became more easy than to refuse her. So Mr. Copley said
+he would go; and received a new harvest of caresses in reward, not
+wholly characterised by the usual drought of harvest-time, for some
+drops of joy and thankfulness still came falling, a sunlit shower.
+
+"Now, my child," said her father, "you had better go back to your good
+housekeeper, and then back to your mother, and get all things ready for
+a start."
+
+"Father, I can stay here to-night, can't I?"
+
+Mr. Copley was not sure that he wanted her; yet he could not refuse to
+make inquiry. There was no difficulty; plenty of room; and Dolly
+joyously prepared herself to gather in the fruits of her victory,
+through that following care and those measures of security for want of
+which many a victory has been won in vain. Mrs. Jersey had long since
+been informed that she need not wait, and had driven away. Dolly now
+sent for her portmanteau, and established herself in her father's
+sitting room.
+
+Mr. Copley looked on, helplessly; half delighted, half bored. He would
+not have chosen to have Dolly there just then; yet being there she was
+one of the most lovely visions that a father's eye could rest upon.
+Grown to be a woman--yes, she was; ordering and arranging things with a
+woman's wisdom and skill; ordering _him_, Mr. Copley felt with a queer
+sensation; and yet, so simple and free and sweet in all her words and
+ways as might have become seven instead of seventeen. St. Leger might
+be glad if he could get her! Yet she was inconvenient to Mr. Copley.
+She stood in his way, like the angel in Balaam's; only not with a sword
+drawn, but with loving looks, and kisses, and graces, and wiles of
+affection; and who could withstand an angel? He gave up trying; he let
+her have her way; and when dinner time came, Dolly and he had an almost
+jovial dinner. Until Mr. Copley rose from table, unlocked a cupboard,
+and took out a bottle of wine. Dolly's heart gave a sudden leap that
+meant a throe of pain. Was there another fight to be fought? How should
+she fight another fight? But the emergency pressed her.
+
+"O father," she cried, "is that sherry?"
+
+"No, it is better," said her father--pouring out a glass,--"it is
+Madeira."
+
+Dolly saw the hand tremble that grasped the bottle, and she sprang up.
+She went round to her father, fell down on her knees before him, and
+laid one hand on the hand that had just seized the glass, the other on
+his shoulder.
+
+"Please, father, don't take it! please don't take it!" she said in
+imploring tones. Mr. Copley paused.
+
+"Not take it? Why not?" said he.
+
+"It is not good for you. I know you ought not to take it, father.
+Please, please, don't!"
+
+Dolly's eagerness and distress were too visible to be disregarded, by
+Mr. Copley at least. Her hand was trembling too. His still held the
+glass, but he looked uncertainly at Dolly, and asked her why it should
+not be good for him? Every gentleman in the land drank wine--that could
+afford it.
+
+"But, father," said Dolly, "can you afford it?"
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Copley. "Get up, Dolly. Here is the wine; it costs no
+more to drink it than to let it alone." And he swallowed the wine in
+the glass at a single draught.
+
+"O father, don't take any more!" cried Dolly, seeing a preparatory
+movement of the hand towards the bottle. "O father! don't, don't! One
+glass is enough. Don't take any more to-day!"
+
+"You talk like a goose, Dolly," said Mr. Copley, filling his glass. "I
+feel better already for that. It has done me good."
+
+"You only think so. It is not doing you good. O father! if you love me,
+put the bottle away. Don't take a drop more!"
+
+Dolly had turned pale in her agony of pleading; and her father,
+conscious in part, and ashamed with that secret consciousness, and
+taken by surprise at her action, looked at her and--did not drink.
+
+"What's the matter with you, child?" he said, trying for an unconcerned
+manner. "Why should not I take wine, like everybody else in the world?"
+
+"Father, it isn't good for people."
+
+"I beg your pardon; it is very good for me. Indeed, I cannot be well
+without it."
+
+"That's the very thing, father; people cannot do without it; and then
+it comes to be the master; and then--they cannot help themselves. Oh,
+do let it alone!"
+
+"What's the matter, Dolly?" Mr. Copley repeated with an air of injury,
+which was at the same time miserably marred by embarrassment. "Do you
+think I cannot help myself? or how am I different from every other
+gentleman who takes wine?"
+
+"Father, a great many of them are ruined by it."
+
+"Well, I am not ruined by it yet."
+
+"Father, how can you tell what might be? Father, I can't bear it!"
+Dolly could not indeed; she broke down. She sat on the floor and sobbed.
+
+If Mr. Copley could have been angry with her; but he could not, she was
+so sweet in every pleading look and tone. If he could have dismissed
+her pleading as the whimsy of a fool; but he could not, for he knew it
+was wise truth. If he had been further gone in the habit which was
+growing upon him, to the point of brutality; but he was not yet; he was
+a man of affectionate nature. So he did not get angry, and though he
+wished Dolly at Brierley instead of in his room, he could not let her
+break her heart, seeing that she was there. He looked at her in
+uncomfortable silence for a minute or two; and then the bitterness of
+Dolly's sobs was more than he could stand. He rose and put the bottle
+away, locked it up, and came back to his place. Dolly's distress
+hindered her knowing what he had done.
+
+"It's gone," Mr. Copley said in an injured tone, as of one oppressed
+and persecuted. "It is put away, Dolly; you need not sit there any
+longer."
+
+Dolly looked up, rose from the floor, came into her father's arms, laid
+her two arms about his neck and her weary head upon his shoulder. It
+was a soft little head, and the action was like a child. Mr. Copley
+clasped her tenderly.
+
+"Dolly," he said,--"my child--you are giving yourself a great deal more
+trouble than you need."
+
+Dolly murmured, "Thank you, father!"
+
+"You mustn't be superstitious."
+
+Alas! Dolly had seen his face already altered by the indulgence of his
+new habits. Involuntarily her arms pressed him closer, and she only by
+an effort prevented a new outbreak of bitter sorrow. That was not best
+just now. She put a force upon herself; after a while looked up, and
+kissed her father; kissed him again and again.
+
+"I declare!" said Mr. Copley, half delighted and half
+conscience-stricken, "you are a little witch, Dolly. Is this the way
+you are going to rule other folks beside me? Mr. St. Leger, for
+instance?"
+
+"Mercy, father! no," said Dolly, recoiling.
+
+"I don't believe he would be hard to manage. He's desperately in love
+with you, Dolly."
+
+"Father, I don't want to manage. And I don't think Lawrence is in any
+danger. It isn't in him to be desperate about anything."
+
+"So much the better, I think," said her father. "What if he should want
+to go with us to Venice?"
+
+"Don't let him! We do not want him."
+
+"He would be useful, I daresay. And I should have to take my secretary,
+Dolly."
+
+"Take that other fellow, the one I saw in your office to-day."
+
+"What, Babbage? He's a raw article, Dolly, very raw. I put him there to
+answer questions. The fellow was in a forlorn state here with nothing
+to do."
+
+They calmed down after a while; and the rest of the evening was largely
+spent in considering plans and details of their projected movements. It
+was agreed that Dolly should rejoin Mrs. Jersey the next day, to be
+ready to return to Brierley with her; that then all preparations should
+be made for a speedy start to the Continent. Father and daughter talked
+themselves into ordinary composure, and when they had bid each other
+good night, Dolly went to rest with a feeling of some hopefulness.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+RUPERT.
+
+Mrs. Jersey could not leave town the next day. Dolly had to wait. It
+was hard waiting. She half wished she had stayed that day also with her
+father; yet when she asked herself why?--she shuddered. To take care of
+him? to watch and keep guard over him? What use, for one day, when she
+could do it no longer? Mr. Copley must be left to himself; and a
+feeling of helplessness stole over her. From the momentary
+encouragement and hope, she fell back again to take a more
+comprehensive view of the subject; she saw that all was not gained yet,
+and it might be that nothing! And she could do no more, except pray.
+Poor Dolly did that; but the strain of fear, the horror of shame, the
+grief of hurt affection, began to make her very sore. She was not
+getting accustomed to her burden; it was growing more insupportably
+galling; the only hope for the whole family lay in getting together and
+remaining together, and in this journey taking Mr. Copley away from his
+haunts and his tempters. Yet Dolly reflected with trembling that the
+temptation, both temptations, would meet them on their way; if a man
+desired to drink or to play, he would never be at a loss for the
+opportunity or the companions. Dolly wrung her hands and prayed again.
+
+However, something was gained; and Dolly on her return reported to her
+mother that they were to set off for the Continent in a few days. She
+brought down money, moreover, to pay off the servants; and with a heart
+so far lightened, went bravely at the preparations to be made.
+
+"And will your father go with us to Venice?"
+
+"Of course, mother. We cannot go without him."
+
+"What if Venice shouldn't agree with me?"
+
+"Oh, then we'll go on further. I think Naples would agree with you.
+There is a very nice house at Sorrento--nice people--where Lady
+Brierley spent a summer; and Mrs. Jersey has given me the address.
+Perhaps we'll go there."
+
+"But if Lady Brierley was there, I guess it's an expensive place."
+
+"No, Mrs. Jersey says not. You must have what you want anyhow, mother
+dear."
+
+"I always used," said poor Mrs. Copley; "but of late I have been
+obliged to sing another tune."
+
+"Go back to the old tune, then, dear. If father hasn't got the money,
+I'll find some way of raising it myself. I mean you shall go to
+Sorrento. Mrs. Jersey says it's just charming there."
+
+"I wonder what she knows about it! A housekeeper! Queer person to tell
+you and me where to go."
+
+"Why, a finger-post can do that, mother. Mrs. Jersey knows a great deal
+besides, about a great many things."
+
+"Well!" Mrs. Copley said again with another sigh--"it is new times to
+me altogether. And I wish the old times would come back!"
+
+"Perhaps they will, mother. When once we get hold of father again, we
+must try to charm him into staying with us."
+
+And it seemed to Dolly that they might do so much. The spirit of
+seventeen is not easily kept down; and with the stir of actually
+getting ready for the journey, she felt her hope and courage moving
+also. A change at any rate was before her; and Dolly had a faint,
+far-off thought of possibly working upon her father to induce him at
+the close of their Italian journey to take ship for home.
+
+So she bustled about from morning till night; packed what was to go and
+what was to be left; grew very cheery over her work, and cheered and
+amused her mother. September was on its way now; it was time to be off;
+and Dolly wrote to her father to tell him she was ready.
+
+A few days later, Dolly was in the porch resting and eating a fine
+pear, which came out of a basket Mrs. Jersey had sent. It was
+afternoon, sunny and hazy, the air fragrant from the woods, the silence
+now and then emphasised by a shot somewhere in the distance. Dolly was
+happy and hopeful; the weather was most lovely, the pear was excellent;
+she was having a pleasant half hour of musing and anticipation.
+Somebody came on foot along the road, swung open the small lattice
+gate, and advanced up the path towards her.
+
+Who was it? Not Mr. St. Leger, which had been Dolly's first momentary
+fear. No, this was a different creature. A young man, but how unlike
+that other. St. Leger was trim-built, smooth, regular, comely; this
+young fellow was lank, long-limbed, none of his joints played
+symmetrically with the others; and the face, though shrewd enough and
+good-natured, had no remote pretensions to beauty. His dress had not
+been cut by the sort of tailor that worked for the St. Legers; his
+gait, instead of the firm, compact, confident movement which Dolly was
+accustomed to see, had a swinging stride, which indeed did not lack a
+kind of confidence; the kind that makes no doubt of getting over the
+ground, and cares little for obstacles. As Dolly looked, she thought
+she had seen him before. But it was very odd, nevertheless, the sort of
+well-pleased smile his face wore. He took off his hat when he got to
+the foot of the steps, and stood there looking up at Dolly in the porch.
+
+"You don't recollect me, I guess," said he.
+
+"No," said Dolly gravely.
+
+"I am Rupert Babbage. And _that_ don't make you much wiser, does it?"
+
+"No," said Dolly. "Not at all."
+
+"Likely. But Mr. Copley has sent me down."
+
+"Has he?"
+
+"I recollect you first-rate," the stranger went on, feeling in his coat
+pocket for something and producing therefrom a letter. "Don't you know
+the day you came to your father's office?" And mounting a step or two,
+without further preface he handed the letter to Dolly. Dolly saw her
+father's handwriting, her own name on the cover, and put a stop to the
+wonder which was creeping over her, by breaking the seal. While she
+read the letter the young man's eyes read her face.
+
+
+
+"DEAR DOLLY,--
+
+"I can't get quit of this confounded Babel yet--and you must want
+somebody badly. So I send Rupert down. He'll do everything you want,
+better in fact than I could, for he is young and spry, and as good a
+boy as lives. He will see to everything, and you can get off as soon as
+you like. I think he had better go along all the way; his mother wit is
+worth a dozen stupid couriers, even though he don't know quite so much
+about routes and hotels; he will soon pick all that up. Will you want
+to stay more than a night in town? For that night my landlady can take
+you in; and if you let me know when you will be ready I will have your
+passage taken in the packet.
+
+"Hurried, as always, dear Dolly, with my love to your mother,
+
+"F. C. COPLEY,
+
+"CONSUL'S OFFICE LONDON,
+
+"_Sept_. 9, 182-."
+
+
+
+Poor Dolly read this note over and over, having thrown away the
+remainder of her sweet pear as belonging only to a time of easy
+pleasure-taking which was past. Was her father not coming to Brierley
+then? she must get off without him? Why? And "_your_ passage"! why not
+"our" passage? Dolly felt the ground giving way under her feet. No, her
+father could not be coming to Brierley, or he would not have sent this
+young fellow. And all things in the world were hovering in uncertainty;
+nothing sure even to hope.
+
+The eyes that watched her saw the face change, the fair, bright, young
+face; saw her colour pale, and the lovely lines of the lips droop for a
+moment to an expression of great sadness. The eyelids drooped too, and
+he was sure there was a glistening under them.
+
+"Did Mr. Copley say why he could not come?" she asked at length,
+lifting her head.
+
+"He did not. I am very sorry!" said Rupert involuntarily. "I guess he
+could not get his business fixed. And he said you were in a hurry."
+
+But not without him! thought Dolly. What was the whole movement for, if
+he were to be left out of it? What should she do? But she must not let
+the tears come. That would do nobody any good, not even herself. She
+brushed away the undue moisture, and raised her head.
+
+"Did Mr. Copley tell you who I am?" the young man asked. "I guess he
+didn't forget that."
+
+"No. Yes!" said Dolly, unable to help smiling at the question and the
+simple earnestness of the questioner's face. "He told me your name."
+
+"Left you to find out the rest?" said he. "Well, what can I do first?
+That's what for I'm come."
+
+"I don't think there is anything to do," said Dolly.
+
+"All ready?"
+
+"Yes. Pretty much. All except finishing."
+
+"Lots o' baggage?"
+
+"No, not so very much. We did not bring a great deal down here."
+
+"Then it'll go by the coach easy enough. How will it get to the coach?"
+
+"I don't know. We must have a waggon from the village, I suppose, or
+from some farmhouse."
+
+"When do you want to go? and I'll soon fix that."
+
+Dolly reflected and said, "The day after to-morrow."
+
+"All right."
+
+He was setting forth immediately, with a world of energy in his gait.
+Dolly called after him.
+
+"To-morrow will be time enough for the waggon, Mr. Babbage."
+
+"There'll be something else for to-morrow," he answered without pausing.
+
+"Tea'll be ready at six," said Dolly, raising her voice a little.
+
+"All right!" said he, and sped away.
+
+Dolly looked after him, so full of vexation that she did not know what
+to do. Not her father, and in his place this boy! This boy to go with
+them on the journey; to be one of the party; to be always on hand; for
+he could not be relegated to the place of a servant or a courier. And
+Dolly wanted her father, and was sure that the expense of a fourth
+person might have been spared. The worst fear of all she would not look
+at; it was possible that they were still to be three, and her father,
+the fourth, left out. However, for the present the matter in hand was
+action; she must tell her mother about this new arrival before she met
+him at supper. Dolly went in.
+
+"Your father not coming?" said Mrs. Copley when she had heard Dolly's
+report. "Then we have nothing to wait for, and we can get right off. I
+do want to see your father out of that miserable office once!"
+
+"Well, he promised me, mother," said Dolly, sighing.
+
+"Can we go to-morrow?"
+
+"No, mother; there are too many last things to do. Next day we will."
+
+"Why can't we go and leave this young man to finish up after us?"
+
+"He could not do it, mother; and we must let father know, besides."
+
+Rupert came back in due time and was presented to Mrs. Copley; but Mrs.
+Copley did not admire his looks, and the supper-table party was very
+silent. The silence became unbearable to the new-comer; and though he
+was not without a certain shyness in Dolly's presence, it became at
+last easier to speak than to go on eating and not speaking.
+
+"Plenty of shootin' round about here, I s'pose," he remarked. "I heard
+the guns going."
+
+"The preserves of Brierley are very full of game," Dolly answered; "and
+there are some friends of Lord Brierley staying at the house."
+
+"I engaged a waggon," Rupert went on. "It'll be here at one, sharp."
+
+"I ought to have sent a word to the post-office, for father, when you
+went to the village; but I did not think till it was too late."
+
+"I did that," said Rupert.
+
+"Sent a word to father?"
+
+"All right. Told him you'd be up on Wednesday."
+
+"Oh, thank you. That was very thoughtful."
+
+"You're from America," said Mrs. Copley.
+
+"Should think I was!"
+
+"Whereabouts? where from, I mean?"
+
+"About two miles from your place--Ortonville is the spot. My native."
+
+"What made you come over here?"
+
+"Well, I s'pose it would be as true as anything to say, Mr. Copley made
+me come."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"Well, I guess it was kindness. Most likely."
+
+"Kindness!" echoed Mrs. Copley. "Poor kindness, I call it, to take a
+man, or a boy, or any one else, away from his natural home. Haven't you
+found it so? Don't you wish you were back there again?"
+
+"Well," said Rupert with a little slowness, and a twinkle in his eye at
+the same time,--"I just don't; if I'm to tell the truth."
+
+"It is incomprehensible to me!" returned the lady. "Why, what do you
+find here, that you would not have had at home?"
+
+"England, for one thing," said the young man with a smile.
+
+"England! Of course you would not have had England at home; but isn't
+America better?"
+
+"I think it is."
+
+"Then what do you gain by exchanging one for the other?" said Mrs.
+Copley with heat.
+
+"That exchange ain't made yet. I calculate to go back, when I have got
+all I want on this side."
+
+"And what do you want? Money, I suppose. Everything is for money, with
+everybody. Country, and family, and the ease of life, and the pleasure
+of being together--nothing matters, if only one may get money! I don't
+know but savages have the best of it. At least they don't live for
+money."
+
+Mrs. Copley forgot at the moment that she was wishing her daughter to
+marry for money.
+
+"I counsel you, young man," she began again. "Money won't buy
+everything."
+
+He laughed good-humouredly. "Can't buy much without it," he said, with
+that shrewd twinkle in his eye.
+
+"And what can Mr. Copley do for you, I should like to know?" she went
+on impatiently.
+
+"He's put me in a likely way," said Rupert. "I am very much beholden to
+Mr. Copley. But the best thing he has done for me is this--by a long
+jump."
+
+"_This?_ What?"
+
+"Letting me go along this journey. I do _not_ think money is the very
+best of all things," the young man said with some spirit.
+
+"Letting you---- Do you mean that you are going to Venice in our party?"
+
+"If it is Venice you are going to."
+
+Silence fell. Mrs. Copley pondered the news in some consternation. To
+Dolly it was not news, and she did not mean it should be fact, if she
+could help it.
+
+"Perhaps you have business in Venice?" Mrs. Copley at length ventured.
+
+"I hope it'll turn out so," said Rupert. "Mr. Copley said I might have
+the pleasure of taking care of you. I should enjoy that, I guess, more
+than making money."
+
+"Good gracious!" was all the speech Mrs. Copley was capable of. She sat
+and looked at the young man. So, furtively, did Dolly. He was enjoying
+his supper; yes, and the prospect too; for a slight flush had risen to
+his face. It was not a symmetrical face, but honesty was written in
+every line of it.
+
+"You've got your plans fixed?" Rupert next inquired. "Know just which
+way you are going? Be sure you are right, and then go ahead, you know."
+
+"We take the boat to Rotterdam," said Dolly.
+
+"Which way, then? Mr. Copley told me so much."
+
+"I don't know," said Mrs. Copley. "If I could once get hold of Mr.
+Copley we could soon settle it."
+
+"What points do you want to make?"
+
+"Points? I don't want to make any points. I don't know what you mean."
+
+"I mean, where do you want to go in special, between here and Venice?
+or are there no places you care about?"
+
+"Places? Oh!--Well, yes, there are. I should like to see the place
+where the battle of Waterloo was fought."
+
+"Mother, that would be out of our way," said Dolly.
+
+"Which is our way?" said Mrs. Copley. "I thought we had not fixed it."
+
+"You don't go up the Rhine, then?" said Rupert.
+
+"I'm going nowhere by boat except where I can't help myself. I like to
+feel land under me. No, we are not going up the Rhine. I can see
+mountains enough in America, and rivers enough too."
+
+Rupert had finished his supper, and took up an atlas he saw lying near.
+
+"Rotterdam," he said, opening at the map of Central Europe,--"that is
+our one fixed point, that and Venice. Now, how to get from the one to
+the other."
+
+Mrs. Copley changed her seat to come nearer the map; and an animated
+discussion followed, which kept her interested and happy the whole of
+the evening. Dolly saw it and was thankful. It was more satisfactory
+than the former consultation with St. Leger, who treated the subject
+from quite too high and lordly a point of view; referring to the best
+hotels and assuming the easiest ways of doing things; flinging money
+about him, in imagination, as Mrs. Copley said, as if it were coming
+out of a purse with no bottom to it; which to be sure might be very
+true so far as he was concerned, but much discomposed the poor woman
+who knew that on her part such pleasant freehandedness was not to be
+thought of. Rupert Babbage evidently did not think of it. He considered
+economy. Besides, he was not so distractingly _au fait_ in everything;
+Mrs. Copley could bear a part in the conversation. So she and Rupert
+meandered over the map, talked endlessly, took a vast deal of pleasure
+in the exercise, and grew quite accustomed to each other; while Dolly
+sat by, glad and yet chafing. Rupert certainly was a comfort, for the
+hour; but she wished he had never been thought of, nevertheless.
+
+But he was a comfort next day again. Cheery and busy and efficient, he
+managed people, sent the luggage off, helped and waited upon Mrs.
+Copley, and kept her quiet with his talk, up to the time when the third
+day they took their places in the coach.
+
+"Really, Mr. Babbage, you are a very handy young man!" Mrs. Copley once
+had uttered her admiration; and Rupert laughed.
+
+"I shouldn't think much of myself," he said, "if I couldn't do as much
+as that. You see, I consider that I'm promoted."
+
+Dolly made the journey up to town in a state between relief and
+disgust. Rupert did take a world of trouble off her hands; but she said
+to herself that she did not want it taken off. And she certainly did
+not want this long-legged fellow attending upon them everywhere. It was
+better to have him than St. Leger; that was all you could say.
+
+The days in London were few and busy. Mr. Copley during this interval
+was very affectionate, very kind and attentive; in fact, so attentive
+to supplying or providing against every possible want that he found
+little time to be with his family. He and Rupert were perpetually
+flying out and in, ordering this and searching for that; a sort of
+joyous bustle seemed to be the order of the day; for he carried it on
+gleefully.
+
+"Why, Mr. Copley," his wife said, when he brought her an elegant little
+leather case for holding the tinctures and medicines in which she
+indulged, "I thought we must economise so hard? I thought you had no
+money now-a-days? How is this, and what does it mean? this case must
+have cost a pound."
+
+"You are worth more than a pound, my dear," Mr. Copley said with a sort
+of semi-earnestness.
+
+"But I thought you were so poor all of a sudden?"
+
+"We are going to turn a new leaf, and live frugally; so you see, on the
+strength of that, we can afford to be extravagant now and then."
+
+"That seems to me a very doubtful way, Mr. Copley," said his wife,
+shaking her head.
+
+"Don't be doubtful, my dear. Whatever else you do, go straight to your
+mark, and don't be doubtful. Humming and hawing never get on with
+anything. Care killed a cat, my dear."
+
+"It has almost killed me," said poor Mrs. Copley. "Are we out of need
+of care, Frank?"
+
+"_You_ are. I'll take all the care for the family. My dear, we are
+going in for play, and Venice."
+
+Dolly heard this, and felt a good deal cheered. What was her
+consternation, then, when the day of sailing came, and at the last
+minute, on board the packet, her father declared he must wait; he could
+not leave London yet for a week or two, but he could not let _them_ be
+delayed; he would let St. Leger go to look after them, and he would
+catch them up before they got to Venice. All this was said in a breath,
+in a rush and hurry, at the moment of taking leave; the luggage was on
+board, Rupert was looking after it, Mr. St. Leger's elegant figure was
+just stepping across the gangway; and Mr. Copley kissed and shook hands
+and was off, with a word to Lawrence as he passed, before Mrs. Copley
+or Dolly could throw in more than an exclamation of dismay to stop him.
+Stop him! one might as well stop a gust of wind. Dolly saw he had
+planned it all; reckoned the minutes, got them off on purpose without
+himself, and _with_ Mr. St. Leger. And here was Mr. St. Leger to be
+spoken to; coming up with his assured step and his handsome, indolent
+blue eyes, to address her mother. St. Leger was a nice fellow; he was
+neither a fool nor a coxcomb; but the sight of him was very
+disagreeable to Dolly just then. She turned away, as full of vexation
+as she could hold, and went to Rupert's side, who was looking after the
+luggage.
+
+"Do you want to see your berth right away?" he asked her.
+
+"My berth?" said Dolly.
+
+"Well, yes; your cabin--state-room--whatever you call it--where you are
+to sleep. You know which it is; do you know where it is? I always like
+to get such things straightened out, first thing. Would you like to see
+it?"
+
+"Oh yes, please," said Dolly; and grasping one of the hand-bags she
+turned away gladly from the deck. Anything for a little respite and
+solitude, from Mr. St. Leger. Rupert found the place, stowed bags and
+wraps and rugs conveniently away, and made Dolly as much at home as she
+could be at five minutes' notice.
+
+"How long will the passage take?" she asked.
+
+"Well, if I knew what the weather would be, I would tell you. Shall you
+be sick?"
+
+"I don't know," said Dolly. "I believe I wish I may. Mr. Babbage, are
+you a Christian?"
+
+"Well, I ain't a heathen, anyhow," said he, laughing a little.
+
+"No, but that isn't what I mean. Of course you are not a heathen. But I
+mean--do you serve the Lord Jesus, and do you love Him?"
+
+Dolly had it not in mind to make a confidant of her new squire; but in
+the terrible confusion and trouble of her spirits she grasped at any
+possible help or stay. The excitement of the minute lifted her quite
+out of ordinary considerations; if Rupert was a Christian, he might be
+a stand-by to her, and anyhow would understand her. So she asked. But
+he looked at her and shook his head. The thought crossed him that he
+was _her_ servant, and her service was all that he was distinctly
+pledged to in his own mind. He shook his head.
+
+"Then what do you do when you are in trouble?" she asked.
+
+"Never been there," said Rupert. "Always find some way out, when I get
+into a fix. Why, are you in trouble?" he asked sympathetically.
+
+"Oh," cried Dolly, "I am in trouble to death, because father hasn't
+come with us!" She could bear it no longer; even seventeen years old
+gives out sometimes; she burst into tears and sat down on a box and
+sobbed. All her hopes dashed to pieces; all her prospects dark and
+confused; nothing but disappointment and perplexity before her. What
+should she do with her mother, she alone? What should she do with Mr.
+St. Leger? a still more vexatious question. And what would become of
+her father, left to himself, and at what possible time in the future
+might she hope that he would break away from his ties and temptations
+and come to rejoin his family? Dolly sobbed in sorrow and bitterness of
+heart. Rupert Babbage stood and looked on wofully; and then delicately
+went out and closed the door.
+
+Dolly's tears did her good. I think it was a help to her too, to know
+that she had so efficient and faithful a servant in the despised Rupert
+Babbage. At any rate, after a half hour or so, she made her appearance
+on deck and met Mr. St. Leger with a calm apparent unconcern, which
+showed her again equal to the occasion. Circumstances were making a
+woman of Dolly fast.
+
+Mr. St. Leger's talk had in the meantime quieted Mrs. Copley. He
+assured her that her husband would soon come after and catch up with
+them. Now he turned his attention to Dolly and Rupert.
+
+"Who is that fellow?" he asked Dolly, when Rupert had left them for a
+minute.
+
+"He is a young man in my father's office. Did you never see him there?"
+
+"But what is he doing _here?_ We do not want him, it strikes me."
+
+"He is very useful, and able."
+
+"Well--aw--but cannot he keep his good qualities to their proper
+sphere? He is not an addition of much value to our society."
+
+"Take care, Mr. St. Leger! He is an American; he cannot be set down
+with the servants."
+
+"Why not, if his education and habits make that his place?"
+
+"Oh, but they do not."
+
+"It seems to me they do, if you will pardon me. This fellow has never
+been in any gentleman's society, except your father's."
+
+"He will be a gentleman himself, in all essentials, one day, Mr. St.
+Leger. There is the difference. The capability is in him, and the
+ambition, and the independent and generous feeling. The foundations are
+all there."
+
+"I'll confess the house when I see it."
+
+"Ay, but you must in the meantime do nothing to hinder its building."
+
+"Why must not I?" said Lawrence, laughing. "It is not my part to lay
+hold on a trowel and be a social mason. Still less is it yours."
+
+"Oh, there you are wrong. I think it is everybody's part."
+
+"Do you? But fancy, what a dreadful thing life would be in that way.
+Perpetual rubbish and confusion. And pardon me--can you pardon
+me?--that is my idea of America."
+
+"I do not think it is a just one," said Dolly, as Rupert now drew near
+again.
+
+"Is there not perpetual building going on there, of this kind as well
+as of the more usual?"
+
+"Perhaps. I was very young when I left home. But what then?"
+
+"Nothing. I have a preference for order and quiet, and things in their
+places."
+
+"At that rate, you know," said Dolly, "nothing would ever have been
+built anywhere. I grant you, the order and quiet are pleasant when your
+own house is all that you desire. But don't you want to see your
+neighbour's house come up?"
+
+"No," said Lawrence, laughing. "I have a better prospect from my
+windows if he remains as he is."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+A SQUARE PARTY.
+
+The passage was stormy and long. Mrs. Copley and her daughter were both
+soon fully occupied with attending to their own sensations; and neither
+Rupert nor Lawrence had any more power to annoy them till they reached
+quiet water again. But even in the depths of sea misery, Dolly's deeper
+distress broke forth. "My father! my father! What shall I do to save my
+father!" she was crying in her heart; all the while with a sense that
+every hour was bringing her further from him and from the chance of
+saving him.
+
+Still, Dolly was seventeen; and at seventeen one cannot be always cast
+down; and when rough water and troubled skies, and ship noises and
+smells, were all left behind, as it seemed, in the German ocean, and
+Dolly found herself one morning in the hotel at Rotterdam, eating a
+very good breakfast, her spirits sprang up in spite of herself. The
+retiring wave of bodily misery carried with it for the moment all
+other. The sun was shining again; and after breakfast they stood
+together at one of the windows looking out upon the new world they had
+come to. Their hotel faced the quay: they saw before them an extent of
+water glittering in the sunshine, steamers waiting for their time of
+sailing, small craft flying about in all directions, and activity,
+bustle, and business filling every nook and corner of the scene.
+Dolly's heart leaped up; the stir was very inspiriting; and how lovely
+the sunshine was, and how pleasant the novelty! And then, to think that
+she had but touched the shore of novelty; that all Central Europe was
+behind her as she stood looking out on the quay!--Her father would
+surely catch them up somewhere, and then all would go well. She was
+silent, in the full joy of seeing.
+
+"What's the next move?" said Lawrence. He did not care for Rotterdam
+quay. He had been looking at Dolly, charmed with the delicate, fresh
+picture she made. The line of frank pleasure on her lips, it was as
+frank as a child's, and the eyes were as absorbed; and yet they were
+grave, womanly eyes, he knew, not easy to cheat, with all their
+simplicity. The mingling of qualities was delicious, and not to be
+found elsewhere in all his sphere of experience. Even her little hands
+were full of character, with a certain precision of action and calm of
+repose which gave to all their movements a certain thorough-bred grace,
+which Lawrence could recognise though he could not analyse. Then the
+little head with its masses of wavy hair was so lovely, and the slim
+figure so full of that same certainty of action and grace of rest which
+he admired; there was nothing undecided about Dolly, and yet there was
+nothing done by rule. That again was a combination he did not know
+elsewhere. Her dress--he considered that too. It was the simplest of
+travelling dresses, with nothing to mark it, or draw attention, or make
+it unfit for its special use--in perfectly good taste. How did she
+know? thought Lawrence; for he knew as well as I do that she had not
+learned it of her mother. There was nothing marked about Mrs. Copley's
+appearance; nevertheless she lacked that harmony of simple good taste
+which was all over Dolly. Lawrence looked, until he saw that Rupert was
+looking too; and then he thought it was time to break up the exercise.
+"What is the next move?" he said.
+
+"We have not settled that," said Dolly. "We could think of nothing on
+board ship. Mother, dear, now we are here, which way shall we go?"
+
+"I don't know anything about ways," said Mrs. Copley. "Not here in this
+strange country."
+
+"Then put it another way," said Lawrence. "Where do you want to go?"
+
+"Why, to Venice," said Mrs. Copley, looking at him.
+
+"Of course; but you want to see something by the way?"
+
+"I left all that to Mr. Copley," said she, half whimpering. "When do
+you think he will come, Mr. St. Leger? I depended on my husband."
+
+"He will come soon," said Lawrence. "But I would not recommend staying
+in Rotterdam to wait for him. What do you say to our asking him to meet
+us in Wiesbaden? To be sure, the season is over."
+
+"Wiesbaden?" said Mrs. Copley.
+
+"Wiesbaden?" cried Dolly. "Oh no, Mr. St. Leger! Not there, nor in any
+such place!"
+
+"The season is over, Miss Dolly."
+
+"I don't want to go to Wiesbaden. Mother, you wanted to see
+something--what was it?"
+
+"Waterloo"---- Mrs. Copley began.
+
+"That would take us out of the way of everything--down into
+Belgium--and you would not see anything when you got there, Mrs.
+Copley. Only some fields; there is nothing left of the battle."
+
+"But if I saw the fields, I could imagine the battle," said Mrs. Copley.
+
+"Could you? Let us imagine something pleasanter. You don't want to go
+up the Rhine?"
+
+"I don't want to go anywhere in a boat, Mr. St. Leger. I am going to
+keep on land, now I've got there. But I was thinking.--Somebody told me
+of some wonderful painted glass, somewhere near Rotterdam, and told me
+not to miss seeing it. Where is it?"
+
+"I know," said Dolly; "the place was Gonda; in the cathedral. But where
+is Gonda?"
+
+"Nine miles off," said Rupert.
+
+"Then that's where I want to go," said Mrs. Copley. "I have heard all
+my life of painted glass; now I should like to see what it amounts to."
+
+"Perhaps that would take us out of our way too, mother."
+
+"I thought we just said we had no way settled," said Mrs. Copley in an
+irritated tone. "What's the use of being here, if we can't see anything
+now we are here? Nine miles isn't much, anyhow."
+
+"We will go there, dear," said Dolly. "We can go so far and come back
+to this place, if necessary."
+
+"And there is another thing I want to see, now we are here," Mrs.
+Copley went on. "I want to go to Dresden."
+
+"Dresden!" cried St. Leger. "What's at Dresden?"
+
+"A great many things, I suppose; but what I want to see is the Green
+vaults and the picture gallery."
+
+"Mrs. Copley," said Lawrence quietly, "there are galleries of pictures
+everywhere. We shall find them at every step--more than you will want
+to look at, by a hundred fold."
+
+"But we shall not find Green vaults, shall we? And you will not tell me
+that the Dresden madonna is anywhere but at Dresden?"
+
+"I did not know you cared so much about pictures, mother," Dolly
+ventured.
+
+"I don't!" said Mrs. Copley,--"not about the pictures; but I don't like
+to be here and not see what there is to see. I like to say I have seen
+it. It would be absurd to be here and not see things. Your father told
+me to go just where I wanted to; and if I don't go to Waterloo, I want
+to see Dresden."
+
+"And from there?" said Lawrence.
+
+"I don't know. I suppose we can find our way from there to Venice
+somehow."
+
+"But do you not include Cologne Cathedral in the things you wish to
+see?"
+
+"Cologne? I don't know about cathedrals. We are going to see one now,
+aren't we? Isn't one as good as another?"
+
+"To pray in, I have no doubt," said Lawrence; "but hardly to look at."
+
+"Well, you don't think churches ought to be built to look at, do you? I
+think that is wicked. Churches are meant for something."
+
+"You would not object to looking at them when they _are_ built? would
+you? Here we are now, going to see Gonda Cathedral."
+
+"No, I am not," said Mrs. Copley. "I am going to see the glass windows.
+We shall not see them to-day if we stand here talking."
+
+Lawrence ordered a carriage, and the party set out. He wished devoutly
+that it had numbered five instead of four, so that Rupert could have
+been sent outside. But the carnage held them all comfortably.
+
+Dolly was a little uneasy at the travelling problem before her;
+however, no uneasiness could stand long against the charm of that
+morning's drive. The blessed familiar sun shone on a world so very
+different from all the world she had ever known before. On every hand
+were flower gardens; on both sides of the way; and in the midst of the
+flower gardens stood pleasant-looking country houses; while the road
+was bordered with narrow canals, over which drawbridges of extravagant
+size led to the houses. It was a rich and quaint and pretty landscape
+under the September sun; and Dolly felt all concern and annoyance
+melting away from her. She saw that her mother too was amused and
+delighted. Surely things would come out right by and by.
+
+The town interested three of the party in a high degree.
+
+"Well!" said Mrs. Copley, "haven't they learned here _yet_ to turn the
+front of their houses to the street?"
+
+"Perhaps they never will," said Lawrence. "Why should they?"
+
+"Because things ought to be right, if it is only the fronts of houses,"
+said the lady.
+
+"I wouldn't mind which _way_ they looked, if they would only hold up
+straight," said Rupert. "What ails the town?"
+
+"Bad soil, most likely," returned Lawrence. "The foundations of Holland
+are moral, not physical."
+
+"What do you mean by that?" said Mrs. Copley. "I am sure they have
+plenty of money. Is this the cathedral we are coming to?"
+
+"St. Jans Kirk ."
+
+"Well, if that's all!--It isn't handsome a bit!"
+
+"It's real homely, that's a fact," said Rupert.
+
+"You came to see the glass windows," said Lawrence. "Let us go in, and
+then pass judgment."
+
+They went in, and then a low exclamation from Rupert was all that was
+heard. The ladies were absolutely mute before the blaze of beauty that
+met them.
+
+"Well!" said Rupert after a pause of deep silence--"now I know what
+folks mean when they say something 'beats the Dutch.' That beats all
+_I_ ever saw!--hollow."
+
+"But how delicious!" exclaimed Dolly. "The work is so delicate. And oh,
+the colours! Mother, do you see that purple? Who is the person
+represented there, Mr. St. Leger?"
+
+"That is Philip the Second. And it is not likely, I may remark, that
+any Dutchman painted it. That broken window was given to the church by
+Philip."
+
+"Who did paint it, then?"
+
+"I cannot say, really."
+
+"What a pity it is broken!"
+
+"But the others are mostly in very good keeping. Come on--here is the
+Duke of Alva."
+
+"If I were a Dutch woman, I would break that," said Dolly.
+
+"No, you wouldn't. Consider--he serves as an adornment of the city
+here. Breaking his effigy would not be breaking _him_, Miss Dolly."
+
+"It must be a very strange thing to live in an old country," said
+Dolly. "I mean, if you belong to it. Just look at these windows!--How
+old is the work itself, Mr. St. Leger?"
+
+"I am not wise in such things;--I should say it must date from the best
+period of the art. I believe it is said so."
+
+"And when was that?"
+
+"Really, I don't know; a good while ago, Miss Dolly."
+
+"Philip II. came to reign about the middle of the sixteenth century,"
+Rupert remarked.
+
+"Exactly," St. Leger said, looking annoyed.
+
+"Well, sir," Rupert went on, "I would like to ask you one thing--can't
+they paint as good a glass window now as they could then?"
+
+"They may paint a better glass window, for aught I know," said
+Lawrence; "but the painting will not be so good."
+
+"That's curious," said Rupert. "I thought things went for'ard, and not
+back, in the world. Why shouldn't they paint as well now as ever?"
+
+Nobody spoke.
+
+"Why should they not, Mr. St. Leger?" Dolly repeated.
+
+"I don't know, I'm sure. Mrs. Copley, I'm afraid you are fatiguing
+yourself."
+
+Mrs. Copley yielded to this gentle suggestion; and long, long before
+Dolly was ready to go, the party left the church to repair to a hotel,
+and have some refreshment. They were all in high spirits by this time.
+
+"Is it settled where we are to go next?" Mr. St. Leger inquired as they
+sat at table.
+
+"I don't care where _next_," said Mrs. Copley; "but only I want to come
+out at Dresden."
+
+"But Dresden, mother"--said Dolly gently, "it is not in our way to
+Venice." She interpreted the expression she saw in Lawrence's face.
+
+"Dolly, the Green vaults are in Dresden. I am not going to be so near
+and not see them. Wasn't I right about the painted windows? I never saw
+anything so beautiful in my life, nor you didn't. I wouldn't have
+missed it for anything. Now you'll see if I ain't right about the Green
+vaults."
+
+"What do you expect to find in them?" Lawrence asked. "I do not
+remember anything about such a mysterious place."
+
+"I have heard about it in London," Mrs. Copley answered. "Somebody who
+had been there told me about it, and I made up my mind I'd see it if
+ever I got a chance. It is like having Aladdin's lamp and going down
+into _his_ vault--only you can't take away what you've a mind to;
+that's the only difference."
+
+"But what is there? Aladdin's grotto was full of precious stones, if I
+remember."
+
+"And so are these," cried Mrs. Copley. "There is an egg with a hen in
+it."
+
+At this there was a general laugh.
+
+"It's a fact," said Mrs. Copley. "And in the hen, or under it--_in_ the
+hen, I believe--there is a crown of gold and diamonds and pearls, with
+a motto. Oh, it's wonderful. It's better than the Arabian Nights, if
+it's true."
+
+"Except that we cannot take the egg away with us," said Lawrence.
+"However--pray, do they let in the indiscriminate public to see these
+wonders?"
+
+"I don't know. I suppose there are ways to get in, or nobody would have
+been in."
+
+"No doubt; the problem is, to find the way. Influence may be necessary,
+possibly."
+
+"I daresay Mr. Copley can manage it. Do write and ask him what we must
+do, Dolly; and ask him to send us letters, or leave, or whatever we
+must have. Write to-day, will you? and ask him to send it right away.
+Of course there are ways to do things."
+
+"May I make a suggestion?" said Lawrence. "If we are to go on to
+Dresden, why should we return to Rotterdam? We might send back to the
+hotel for our luggage, and meanwhile you can rest here. And then we can
+go on to Utrecht early to-morrow; or this evening, if you like. It
+would save time."
+
+This plan met approval. Rupert volunteered to go back and bring Mrs.
+Copley's belongings safely to Gonda.
+
+"And while you are about it, bring mine too, my good fellow, will you?"
+said St. Leger as Rupert was about to go. He spoke somewhat
+superciliously. But the other answered with cool good humour,
+
+"All right. I'll do that, on the understanding that you'll do as much
+for me next time." And he went.
+
+"Confound him!" said Lawrence; while Dolly smiled.
+
+"Hush!" she said. "I am sure that is a fair bargain."
+
+"Where did Mr. Copley pick up such a green hand?"
+
+"Did you never see him at the office?"
+
+"What office?"
+
+"The Consul's office, in London. You have been there enough."
+
+"Oh, ah--the Consul's office," said Lawrence. "True, if he was there I
+must have seen him. But what do we want of him here?"
+
+"He is useful to you just now," said Dolly.
+
+But afterwards she took up the question again and, what Lawrence did
+not dream of, included his name in it. Why was either of these young
+men there? This time of waiting at the hotel gave Dolly a chance to
+think; and while she sat at the window and watched the strange figures
+and novel sights in the street, her mind began to go over more
+questions than one. She felt in a sort lost without her father. Here
+were she and her mother taking a journey through Europe in the care of
+these two young men. What were they there for? Rupert certainly for her
+pleasure and service, she knew; Lawrence, she was equally sure, for his
+own. How should she manage them? for Lawrence must not be encouraged,
+while at the same time he could not be sent away. At least, not yet.
+Careful, and cool, and womanly, she must be; and that was not so very
+difficult, for poor Dolly felt as if glad childish days were past for
+her.
+
+Another question was, how she should get the most good of her journey,
+and how she could help Rupert, who, she could see, was on the watch to
+improve himself. Dolly had a sympathy for him. She resolved that she
+would study up every subject that presented itself, and set Rupert upon
+doing the same. St. Leger might take care of himself. Yet Dolly's
+conscience would not let him go so. No; one can be nobody's travelling
+companion for days or weeks, without having duties to fulfil towards
+him; but Dolly thought the duties were very difficult in this her
+particular case. If her father would but come! And therewith Dolly sat
+down and wrote him the tenderest, lovingest of letters, telling him
+about their journey, and the glass windows; and begging him to meet
+them in Dresden or before, so that they might see the fabulous Green
+vaults together. In any case, she begged him to make such provision
+that Mrs. Copley might not be disappointed of seeing them. All Dolly's
+eloquence and some tears were poured out upon that sheet of paper; and
+as she sealed it up she felt again that she was surely growing to be a
+woman; the days of her childhood were gone.
+
+Not so far off, however, but that Dolly's spirits sprang up again after
+the letter was despatched, and were able to take exquisite pleasure in
+everything the further journey offered. Even the unattractive was
+novel, and what was not unattractive was so charming. She admired the
+quaint, clean, bright, fanciful Dutch towns; the abundance of flowers
+still to be seen abroad; the smiling country places surrounding the
+towns; the strange carvings and devices on the houses; the crooked
+streets.
+
+"You are the first person I ever saw," Lawrence said admiringly, "who
+found beauty in crooked streets."
+
+"Do you like straight ones?" said Dolly.
+
+"Certainly. Why not?"
+
+"You look from end to end; you see all there is at once; walk and walk
+as you may, there is no change, but the same wearisome lines of houses.
+Now when streets are not straight, but have windings and turnings, you
+are always coming to something new."
+
+"I suppose you like them to be up hill and down too?"
+
+"Oh, very much!"
+
+"You do not find that in Holland."
+
+"No, but in Boston."
+
+"Ah, indeed!" said Lawrence.
+
+"I wonder," Dolly went on, "what makes one nation so different from
+another. _You_ are on an island; but here there is only a line between
+Holland and Germany, and the people are not alike."
+
+"Comes from what they eat," said Lawrence.
+
+"Their _food?_" said Dolly.
+
+"Yes. The Scotchman lives upon porridge, the Englishman on beef and
+porter, the German on sausages and beer."
+
+"The French?"
+
+"Oh, on soup and salad and sour wine."
+
+"And Italians?"
+
+"On grapes and olives."
+
+"That will do to talk about," said Dolly; "but it does not touch the
+question."
+
+"Not touch the question! I beg your pardon--but it does touch it most
+essentially. Do you think it makes no difference to a man what sort of
+a dinner he eats?"
+
+"A great difference _to_ some men; but does it make much difference in
+him?"
+
+"Yes," said Rupert; and "Yes!" said Lawrence, with a unanimity which
+made Dolly smile. "I can tell you," the latter went on, "a man is one
+thing or another for the day, according to whether he has had a good
+breakfast or a bad one."
+
+"I understand. That's temper."
+
+"It is not temper at all. It is physical condition."
+
+"It's feeling put to rights, _I_ think," said Rupert.
+
+"I suppose all these people are suited, in their several ways," said
+Dolly. "Will mother like Venice, Mr. St. Leger, when we get there? What
+is it like?"
+
+"Like a city afloat. _You_ will like it, for the strangeness and the
+beautiful things you will find there. I can't say about Mrs. Copley,
+I'm sure."
+
+"What do they drink there?" said Rupert. "Water?"
+
+"Well, not exactly. You can judge for yourself, my good fellow."
+
+"But that is Italy," said Dolly. "I suppose there is no beer or porter?"
+
+"Well, you can find it, of course, if you want it; there are people
+enough coming and going that _do_ want it; but in Venice you can have
+pure wine, and at a reasonable price, too."
+
+"At hotels, of course," said Dolly faintly.
+
+"Of course, at some of them. But I was not thinking of hotels."
+
+"Of what, then?"
+
+"Wine-shops.''
+
+"Wine-shops! Not for people who only want a glass, or two glasses?"
+
+"Just for them. A glass or two, or half a dozen."
+
+"Restaurants, you mean?"
+
+"No, I do not mean restaurants. They are just wine-shops; sell nothing
+but wine. Odd little places. There's no show; there's no set out; there
+are just the casks from which the wine is drawn, and the glasses-mugs,
+I should say; queer things; pints and quarts, and so on. Nothing else
+is there, but the customers and the people who serve you."
+
+"And people go into such places to drink wine? merely to drink, without
+eating anything?"
+
+"They can eat, if they like. There are street venders, that watch the
+custom and come in immediately after any one enters; they bring fruit
+and confections and trifles."
+
+"You do not mean that _gentlemen_ go to these places, Mr. St. Leger?"
+
+"Certainly. The wine is pure, and sold at a reasonable rate. Gentlemen
+go, of course--if they know where to go."
+
+Dolly's heart sank. In Venice this!--where she had hoped to have her
+father with her safe. She had known there was wine enough to be had in
+hotels; but that, she knew too, costs money, if people will have it
+good; and Mr. Copley liked no other. But cheap wine-shops, "if you know
+where to go,"--therefore retired and comparatively private
+places,--were _those_ to be found in Venice, the goal of her hopes?
+Dolly's cheeks grew perceptibly pale.
+
+"What is the matter, Miss Dolly?" Lawrence asked, watching her. But
+Dolly could not answer; and she thought he knew, besides.
+
+"There is no harm in pure wine," he went on.
+
+Dolly flashed a look at him upon that, a most involuntary, innocent
+look; yet one which he would have worked half a day for if it could
+have been obtained so. It was eloquent, it was brilliant, it was
+tender; it carried a fiery appeal against the truth of his words, and
+at the same time a most moving deprecation of his acting in consonance
+with them. She dared not speak plainer, and she could not have spoken
+plainer, if she had talked for an hour. Lawrence would have urged
+further his view of the subject, but that look stopped him. Indeed, the
+beauty of it put for the moment the occasion of it out of his head.
+
+Thanks to Rupert's efficient agency, they were able to spend that night
+at Utrecht, and the next day went on. It seemed to Dolly that every
+hour was separating her further from her father; which to be sure
+literally was true; nevertheless she had to give herself up to the
+witchery of that drive. The varied beauty, and the constant novelty on
+every hand, were a perpetual entertainment. Mrs. Copley even forgot
+herself and her grievances in looking out of the carriage windows;
+indeed, the only trouble she gave was in her frequent changing places
+with Dolly to secure now this and now that view.
+
+"We haven't got such roads in Massachusetts," remarked Rupert. "This is
+what I call first-rate going."
+
+"Have you got such anything else there?" Lawrence inquired smoothly.
+
+"Not such land, I'm bound to say."
+
+"No," said Dolly, "this is not in the least like Massachusetts, in
+anything. O mother, look at those cattle! why there must be thousands
+of them; how beautiful! You would not find such an immense level green
+plain in Massachusetts, Mr. St. Leger. I never saw such a one anywhere."
+
+Mrs. Copley took that side of the carriage.
+
+"It wouldn't be used for a pasture ground, if we had it there," said
+Rupert.
+
+"Perhaps it would. I fancy it is too wet for grain," St. Leger answered.
+
+"Now here is a lake again," said Dolly. "How large, and how pretty!
+Miles and miles, it must be. How pretty those little islands are, Mr.
+Babbage!"
+
+Mrs. Copley exchanged again, and immediately burst out--
+
+"Dolly, Dolly, did you see that woman's earrings? I declare they were a
+foot long."
+
+"I beg your pardon--half a foot, Mrs. Copley."
+
+"What do you suppose they are made of?"
+
+"True gold or silver."
+
+"Mercy! that's the oddest thing I've seen yet. I suppose Holland is a
+very rich country."
+
+"And here come country houses and gardens again," said Dolly. "There's
+a garden filled with marble statues, mother."
+
+Mrs. Copley shifted her seat to the other side to look at the statues,
+and directly after went back to see some curiously trimmed yews in
+another garden. So it went on; Dolly and her mother getting a good deal
+of exercise by the way. Mrs. Copley was ready for her dinner, and
+enjoyed it; and Dolly perceiving this enjoyed hers too.
+
+Then they were delighted with Arnheim. They drove into the town towards
+evening; and the quaint, picturesque look of the place, lying bright in
+the sunshine of a warm September day, took the hearts of both ladies.
+The odd gables, the endless variety of building, the balconies hung
+with climbing vines; and above all, the little gardens, gay with fall
+flowers and furnished with arbours or some sort of shelter, under some
+of which people were taking tea, while in others the wooden tables and
+chairs stood ready though empty, testifying to a good deal of habitual
+out-of-door life; they stirred Dolly's fancy and Mrs. Copley's
+curiosity. Both of them were glad to spend the night in such a pretty
+place.
+
+After they had had supper comfortably, Dolly left her mother talking to
+St. Leger and slipped out quietly to take a walk, having privately
+summoned Rupert to attend her. The walk was full of enjoyment. It
+lasted a good while; till Dolly began to grow a little tired, and the
+evening light was dying away; then the steps slackened which had been
+very brisk at setting out, and Dolly began to let her thoughts go
+beyond what was immediately before her. She was very much inclined to
+be glad now of Rupert's presence in the party. She perceived that he
+was already devoted to her service; not with Mr. St. Leger's
+pretensions, but with something more like the adoration a heathen
+devotee pays to his goddess. Rupert already watched her eyes and
+followed her wishes, sometimes before they were spoken. It was plain
+that she might rely upon him for all to which his powers would reach;
+and a strong element of good-will began to mix with her confidence in
+him. What could she do, to help make this journey a benefit to the boy?
+He had known little of good or gentle influences in his life; yet he
+was gentle himself and much inclined to be good, she thought. And he
+might be very important to her yet, before she got home.
+
+"I don't know the first thing about this country," he broke the
+silence. "It was always a little spot in the corner of the map that I
+thought was no sort of count. Why, it's a grand place!"
+
+"You ought to read about it in history."
+
+"I never read much history, that's a fact," Rupert answered. "Never had
+much to read," he added with a laugh. "Fact is, my life up to now has
+been pretty much of a scrimmage for the needful."
+
+"Knowledge is needful," said Dolly.
+
+"That's a fact; but a fellow must live first, you see. And that warn't
+always easy once."
+
+"And what are your plans or prospects? What do you mean to be--or do?
+what do you mean to make of yourself?"
+
+Rupert half laughed. "I haven't any prospects--to speak of. In fact, I
+don't see ahead any further than Venice. As to what I am to be, or
+do,--I expect that will be settled without any choice of mine. I've got
+along, so far, somehow; I guess I'll get along yet."
+
+"Are you a Christian?" Dolly asked, following a sudden impulse.
+
+"I guess I ain't what you mean by that."
+
+"What do you mean by it?"
+
+"Well--where I come from, they call Christians folks that have j'ined
+the church."
+
+"That's making a profession," said Dolly.
+
+"Yes, I've heard folks call it that."
+
+"But what is the reality? _What_ do you think a man professes when he
+joins the church?"
+
+"I'll be shot if I know," Rupert answered, looking at her hard in the
+fading light. "I'd like first-rate to hear you say."
+
+"It is just to be a servant of Christ," said Dolly. "A true servant,
+'doing the will of God from the heart.'"
+
+"How are you going to know what His will is? I should be bothered if
+you asked _me_."
+
+"Oh, He has told us that," said Dolly, surprised. "In the Bible."
+
+"Then I s'pose you've got to study _that_ considerable."
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"Well, don't it say things pretty different from what most folks do?"
+
+"Yes. What then?"
+
+"Then it wouldn't be just easy to get along with it, I should think."
+
+"What then?"
+
+"Well!" said Rupert,--"how are you going to live in the world, and not
+do as the world do?"
+
+"Then you _have_ studied the Bible a little?"
+
+"No, fact, I haven't," said Rupert. "But I've heard folks talk now and
+again; and that's what I think about it."
+
+"Suppose it is difficult?" said Dolly. "But it is really not difficult,
+if one is a true servant of God and not only make-believe. Suppose it
+were difficult, though. Do you remember what Christ said of the two
+ways, serving Him and not serving Him?"
+
+Rupert shook his head.
+
+"Have you got a Bible of your own?"
+
+"No," said Rupert. "That's an article I never owned yet. I've always
+wanted other things more, you see."
+
+"And I would rather want everything else in the world," said Dolly. "I
+mean, I would rather be without everything else."
+
+"Surely!" said Rupert.
+
+"Because I am a servant of Christ, you see. Now that is what I want you
+to be. And as to the question of ease or difficulty--this is what I was
+going to repeat to you. Jesus said, that those who hear and obey Him
+are like a house planted on a rock; fixed and firm; a house that when
+the storms come and the winds blow, is never so much as shaken. But
+those who do not obey Him are like a house built on the sand. When the
+storms blow and the winds beat, it will fall terribly and all to ruins.
+It seems to me, Mr. Babbage, that _that_ is harder than the other."
+
+"Suppose the storms do not come?" said Rupert.
+
+"I guess they come to most people," said Dolly soberly. "But the Lord
+did not mean these storms merely. I don't know whether He meant them at
+all. He meant the time by and by.--Come, we must go home," said Dolly,
+beginning to go forward again. "I wish you would be a servant of
+Christ, Mr. Babbage!"
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Oh, because all that is sure and strong and safe and happy is on that
+side," said Dolly, speaking eagerly. "All that is noble and true and
+good. You are sure of nothing if you are not a Christian, Mr. Babbage;
+you are not sure even of yourself. Temptation may whirl you, you don't
+know where, and before you know it and before you can help it. And when
+the storms come, those storms--your house will--go down--in the
+sands"---- And to Rupert's enormous astonishment, Dolly's voice broke
+here, and for a second she stood still, drawing long sobs; then she
+lifted her head with an effort, took his arm and went swiftly back on
+the way to the hotel. He had not been able to say one word. Rupert
+could not have the faintest notion of the experience which had pointed
+and sharpened Dolly's last words; he could not imagine why, as they
+walked home, she should catch a hasty breath now and then, as he knew
+she did, a breath which was almost a sob; but Rupert Babbage was
+Dolly's devoted slave from that day.
+
+Lawrence himself marvelled somewhat at the appearance and manner of the
+young lady in the evening. The talk and the thoughts had roused and
+stirred Dolly, with partly the stir of pain, but partly also the sense
+of work to do and the calling up of all her loving strength to do it.
+Her cheek had a little more colour than usual, her eye a soft hidden
+fire, her voice a thrill of tender power. She was like, Lawrence
+thought, a most rare wild wood flower, some spiritual orchis or
+delicious and delicate geranium; in contrast to the severely trained,
+massive and immoveable tulips and camellias of society. She was at a
+vexatious distance from him, however; and handled him with a calm
+superiority which no woman of the world could have improved upon. Only
+it was nature with Dolly.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+SEEING SIGHTS.
+
+The next day's journey was uninteresting and slow. Mrs. Copley grew
+tired; and even dinner and rest at a good hotel failed to restore her
+spirits.
+
+"How many more days will it be before we get to Dresden?" she desired
+to know.
+
+"Keep up your courage, Mrs. Copley," said Lawrence. "Remember the Green
+vaults! We have some work before us yet to get there."
+
+"We shall not get there to-morrow?"
+
+"We shall hardly do more than reach Cassel to-morrow."
+
+"I don't know anything about Cassel. Will it be nothing but sand all
+the way, like to-day? We have left everything pretty behind us in
+Holland."
+
+"I think the way will mend a little," Lawrence allowed.
+
+"What place is next to Cassel?"
+
+"As our resting place for the night? I am afraid it will take us two
+days to get to Weimar."
+
+"And then Dresden?"
+
+"No, then Leipzig."
+
+"Oh, I should like to see Leipzig," cried Dolly.
+
+"What for?" said her mother. "I am sure all these places are nothing to
+us, and I think the country is very stupid. And I like travelling where
+I know what the people say. I feel as if I had got five thousand miles
+from anywhere. What do you suppose keeps your father, Dolly?"
+
+"I don't know, mother."
+
+"You may write and tell him, if he don't come to us in Dresden I shall
+go back. This isn't _my_ notion of pleasure."
+
+"But it is doing you good, mother."
+
+"I hadn't anything I could eat this evening. If you don't mind, Dolly,
+I'll go to bed."
+
+Dolly did mind, for she longed for a walk again among the strange
+scenes and people. As it was not to be had this time, she sat at her
+window and looked out. It was moonlight, soft weather; and her eye was
+at least filled with novelty enough, even so. But her thoughts went
+back to what was not novel. The day had been dull and fatiguing.
+Dolly's spirits were quiet. She too was longing for her father, with a
+craving, anxious longing that was more full of fear than of hope. And
+as she thought it over again, she did not like her position. Her mother
+was little of a shield between her and what she wanted to escape,
+Lawrence St. Leger's attentions; and she could but imperfectly protect
+herself. True, she knew she gave him no direct encouragement. Yet he
+was constantly with her, he had the right of taking care of her, he let
+her see daily what a pleasure it was, and she was not able to turn it
+into the reverse of pleasure. She could not repulse him, unless he
+pushed his advances beyond a certain point; and Lawrence was clever
+enough to see that he had better not do that. He took things for
+granted a little, in a way that annoyed Dolly. She knew she gave him no
+proper encouragement; nevertheless, the things she could not forbid
+might seem to weave a tacit claim by and by. She wished for her father
+on her own account. But when she thought of what was keeping him,
+Dolly's head went down in agony. "O father, father!" she cried in the
+depths of her heart, "why don't you come? how can you let us ask in
+vain? and what dreadful, dreadful entanglement it must be that has such
+power over you to make you do things so unlike yourself! Oh, what shall
+I do? what shall I do? I cannot reach him now--only by letters."
+
+Mrs. Copley got up next morning in renewed spirits. "Dolly," she
+inquired while she was dressing, in which business Dolly always helped
+her,--"is anything settled between St. Leger and you?"
+
+"Settled, mother? He is father's secretary,--at least so he calls
+himself,--taking care of us in father's absence. There is nothing else
+settled, nor to be settled."
+
+"You know why he is here, child."
+
+"Because father isn't, mother; and I should like to make the exchange
+as quickly as possible."
+
+"What's the matter with him, Dolly?"
+
+"The principal thing is, he won't take a hint."
+
+"No, no; I mean, what fault do you find in him?"
+
+"That, mother. Nothing else."
+
+"He worships the ground you tread on."
+
+"Mother, I think that is a pity. Don't you?"
+
+"I think you ought to be very glad of it. I am. Dolly, the St. Legers
+are _very_ well off; he is rich, and his father is rich; and there is
+that beautiful place, and position, and everything you could desire."
+
+"Position!" Dolly repeated. "Mother, I think I make my own position. At
+any rate, I like it better than his."
+
+"O Dolly! the St. Legers"----
+
+"They are not anything particular, mother. Rich bankers; that is all."
+
+"And isn't that enough?"
+
+"Well, no," said Dolly, laughing. "It would take a good deal more to
+tempt me away from you and father."
+
+"But, child, you've got to go. And Mr. St. Leger is as fond of you as
+ever he can be."
+
+"He will not break his heart, mother. He is not that sort. Don't think
+it."
+
+"I don't care if he did!" said Mrs. Copley, half crying. "It is not
+_him_ I am thinking of; it is you."
+
+"Thank you, mother," said Dolly, putting her arms round her mother's
+neck and kissing her repeatedly. "But I am not going to leave you for
+any such person. And I don't think so much of money as you do."
+
+"Dolly, Dolly, money is a good thing."
+
+"There is not enough of it in the world to buy me, mother. Don't try to
+fix my price."
+
+The rest of that day Dolly was gay. Whether from the reaction of
+spirits natural to seventeen, or whether she were lightened in heart by
+the explicitness of her talk with her mother in the morning, she was
+the life of the day's journey. The road itself mended; the landscape
+was often noble, with fine oak and beech woods, and lovely in its rich
+cultivation; meadows and ploughed fields and tracts of young grain and
+smiling villages alternating with one another. There was no tedium in
+the carriage from morning to night. St. Leger and Rupert laughed at
+Dolly, and with her; and Mrs. Copley, in spite of chewing the cud of
+mortification at Dolly's impracticableness, was beguiled into
+forgetting herself. Sometimes this happy effect could be managed; at
+other times it was impossible. But more days followed, not so gay.
+
+"I'm as tired as I can be!" was Mrs. Copley's declaration, as they were
+approaching Leipzig.
+
+"We'll soon get to our hotel now," said Lawrence soothingly.
+
+"'Tain't that," said Mrs. Copley; "I am tired of hotels too. I am
+tired of going from one place to another. I should like to stay still
+somewhere."
+
+"But it is doing you good, mother."
+
+"I don't see it," said Mrs. Copley. "And what do you mean by its doing
+me good, Dolly? What is good that you don't feel? It's like something
+handsome that you can't see; and if you call that good, I don't. I
+wonder if life's to everybody what it is to me!"
+
+"Not exactly," said Lawrence. "Not everybody can go where he likes and
+do what he will, and have such an attendant handmaiden everywhere."
+
+"Do what I will!" cried Mrs. Copley, who like other dissatisfied people
+did not like to have her case proved against her,--"much you know about
+it, Mr. St. Leger! If I had my will, I would go back to America."
+
+"Then you would have to do without your handmaiden," said Lawrence.
+"You do not think that we on this side are so careless of our own
+advantage as to let such a valuable article go out of the country?"
+
+It was said with just such a mixture of jest and earnest that Dolly
+could hardly take it up. The words soothed Mrs. Copley, though her
+answer hardly sounded so.
+
+"I suppose that is what mothers have to make up their minds to," she
+said. "Just when their children are ready to be some comfort to them,
+off they go, to begin the same game on their own account. I sometimes
+wonder whether it is worth while to live at all!"
+
+"But one can't help that," said Rupert.
+
+"I don't see what it amounts to."
+
+"Mother, think of the Dresden Green vaults," said Dolly.
+
+"Well, I do," said Mrs. Copley. "That keeps me up. But when I have seen
+them, Dolly, what will keep me up then?"
+
+"Why, Venice, mother."
+
+"And suppose I don't like Venice? I sometimes think I shan't."
+
+"Then we will not stay there, dear. We will go on to Sorrento."
+
+"After all, Dolly, one can't keep always going somewhere. One must come
+to a stop."
+
+"The best way is not to think of that till one is obliged to do it,"
+said Lawrence. "Enjoy while you have to enjoy."
+
+"That ain't a very safe maxim, seems to me," said Rupert. "One's rope
+might get twisted up."
+
+"It is the maxim of a great many wise men," said Lawrence, ignoring the
+figure.
+
+"Is it wise?" said Dolly. "Would you spend your money so, like your
+time? spend to the last farthing, before you made any provision for
+what was to be next?"
+
+"No, for I need not. In money matters one can always take care to have
+means ahead."
+
+"So you can in the other thing."
+
+"How?" said Rupert, and "How?" said Lawrence, in the same breath. "You
+cannot always, as Mrs. Copley said, go on finding new places to go to
+and new things to see."
+
+"I'd have what would put me above the need of that."
+
+"What? Philosophy? Stoicism?"
+
+"No," said Dolly softly.
+
+"Have you discovered the philosopher's stone?" said Lawrence; "and can
+you turn common things into gold for your purposes?"
+
+"Yes," said Dolly in the same way.
+
+"Let us hear how, won't you? Is it books, or writing, or art perhaps?
+You are very fond of that, I know."
+
+"No," said Dolly slowly; "and I cannot show it to you, either, Mr. St.
+Leger. It is like the golden water in the story in the Arabian Nights,
+which was at the top of a hill, and people went up the hill to get it;
+but on the way so many strange voices sounded in their ears that they
+were tempted to look round; and if they looked round they were turned
+to stone. So the way was marked with stones."
+
+"And nobody got the golden water?"
+
+"Yes. At last one went up, who being forewarned, stopped her ears and
+never looked round. She got to the top and found the golden water. We
+in these times give it another name. It is the water of life."
+
+"What _are_ you talking about, Dolly?" said her mother.
+
+"Must one go up the hill with one's ears stopped _now_, to get the
+wonderful water?" Lawrence asked. Dolly nodded.
+
+"And when you have got it--what then?"
+
+"Then you have got it," said Dolly. "It is the water of life. And you
+have done with this dry wilderness that mother is complaining of, and
+you are recommending."
+
+Lawrence stroked and pulled his moustache, as he might have done if a
+lady had spoken to him in polite Sanscrit. Rupert looked gravely out of
+the carriage window. Neither answered, and nobody spoke another word,
+till Mrs. Copley exclaimed, "There's Leipzig!"
+
+"Looks sort o' peaceful now," remarked Rupert.
+
+"Peaceful? Why, ain't the place quiet?" Mrs. Copley asked anxiously.
+
+"Quiet enough," said Lawrence; "but there was a time, not so long ago,
+when it wasn't exactly so."
+
+"When was that?"
+
+"When all the uniforms of Europe were chasing through it," said Dolly;
+"some chased and some chasing; when the country was covered with
+armies; when a half a million of men or so fought a long battle here,
+and the suburbs of Leipzig were full of dead and wounded and sick and
+starving; there was not much peace then in or out of the city; though
+there was some rejoicing."
+
+"Oh," said Mrs. Copley, "you mean"----
+
+"When Napoleon was beaten here, mother."
+
+"War's a mean thing!" said Rupert.
+
+"That's not precisely the view civilised peoples take of it," said
+Lawrence with a slight sneer.
+
+"True, though," said Dolly.
+
+"Mean?" said Lawrence. "Do you think it was a mean thing for Germany to
+rise up and cast out the power that had been oppressing her? or for the
+other powers of Europe to help?"
+
+"No; but very mean for the side that had given the occasion."
+
+"That's as you look at it," said Lawrence.
+
+"No, but how God looks at it. You cannot possibly think," said Dolly
+slowly, going back to her old childish expression,--"that He likes it."
+
+Lawrence could not help smiling at this very original view. "Very few
+people that make war ask that question," he said.
+
+"God will ask them, though," said Dolly, "why they did not. I think few
+people ask that question, Mr. St. Leger, about anything."
+
+"It is not usual, except for a little saint here and there like you,"
+he allowed.
+
+"And yet it is the only question. There is nothing else to be asked
+about a matter; almost nothing else. If that is settled, it is all
+settled."
+
+"If we were only all saints," Lawrence put in.
+
+"Why are not we?"
+
+"I don't know. I suppose everybody is not cut out for such a vocation."
+
+"Everybody ought to be a saint."
+
+"Do you mean that?" cried Rupert. "I thought,--I mean, I thought it was
+a special gift."
+
+"Yes," said Dolly with a smile at him; "but God gives it to every one
+that wants it. And when the King comes, Mr. St. Leger, He will gather
+His saints to Him, and none others; don't yon want to be counted among
+them then?--I do!"
+
+I don't know what had wrought up Dolly to this sudden burst; but she
+dropped her veil upon eyes all alight, while some soft dripping tears
+were falling from them like diamonds. Every one knows the peculiar
+brilliancy of a sunlit shower; and the two young men remained fairly
+dazzled. Rupert, however, looked very grave, while the other wore a
+cloud on his brow.
+
+Dolly was as matter-of-fact as possible when she came out from under
+her veil again; and declared she should not go to a hotel in Dresden,
+but take a lodging.
+
+"Why?" Lawrence enquired.
+
+"Cheaper. And pleasanter. And much quieter. We shall probably have to
+stay several days in Dresden. We must get letters there."
+
+"But you do not know where to go to find lodgings."
+
+"Yes, I do. Or I shall. I hope so. I have sent for the address of the
+woman with whom Lady Brierley had lodgings a whole winter."
+
+"Where do you expect to receive this address?"
+
+"In Leipzig, I hope."
+
+"Really, Dolly, you take a good deal upon you, considering how old you
+are," said her mother. "Don't you think Mr. St. Leger knows best?"
+
+"No, mother, not for you and me. Oh, _he_ can go to a hotel. He will,
+of course."
+
+However, this Mr. St. Leger did not desire. He was obliged to do it,
+nevertheless. The letter was found at Leipzig, the lodgings were found
+in Dresden, but not roomy enough to hold them all. Mrs. Copley and her
+daughter and their attendant Rupert were very comfortably accommodated;
+and to Dolly's great joy found themselves alone. Frau Wetterhahn was
+all obligingness, hearing Lady Brierley's name, and made them right
+welcome. This Frau Wetterhahn! She was the most lively, active,
+capable, talkative, bright-eyed, good-humoured, free and easy little
+woman that you can imagine. She was really capable, and cooked them a
+nice supper. Dolly had unpacked a few things, and felt herself at home,
+and the three sat down comfortably to their meal.
+
+"Now, mother, dear," said Dolly, "this is pleasant!"
+
+"Well," said Mrs. Copley, "I think it is. If you only hadn't sent
+Lawrence away!"
+
+"He couldn't stay, mother. Frau Wetterhahn sent him away--not I. Change
+will be good for him. And for me too. I am going to make believe we are
+at home for a little while. And you are going to see the Green vaults;
+and I am going to see everything. And these rooms are so cosy!"
+
+"Aren't you going to see the Green vaults too?"
+
+"Indeed, I hope so. But we may have to wait a day or two, dear mother;
+that will be good, and you can have a rest."
+
+"I'm sure I'm glad of it," said Mrs. Copley. "I am just tired of
+riding, and more tired yet of seeing everlasting new things. I am
+aching for something I've seen before in my life."
+
+"Well, here's a cup of coffee, mother."
+
+Mrs. Copley tasted.
+
+"If you think _that's_ like anything I used to have at home, I'm sorry
+for you!" she said with a reproachful look.
+
+"Don't you like it? I do. I like it because it is different. But I
+think it is very good, mother. And look--here is some delicious bread."
+
+"It's like no bread I ever saw till I came to Germany. Oh, mercy! why
+must folks have so many ways? I wonder how things will be at Venice!"
+
+"Stranger than ever, mother, I'm afraid."
+
+"Then I shall get tired of it. Isn't this a very roundabout way that we
+are going to Venice--round this way by Dresden?"
+
+"Why, yes, mother, of course; but the Green vaults are here, and you
+were bound to see the Green vaults."
+
+"I wouldn't have come, if I had known it was so far," said Mrs. Copley.
+
+But she relished her supper, and was not nervous, and slept well; and
+Dolly was somewhat in hopes that Dresden was not a bad move after all.
+They had to wait, as she said, for letters, and for the sight of the
+glories that had attracted them hither. Several days passed by.
+
+They passed in delights, for Dolly. Two mornings were spent in the
+great picture gallery. Mrs. Copley's desires and expectations having
+focussed upon the Green vaults, were hardly able to see anything else
+clearly; indeed, she declared that she did not think the wonderful
+Madonna was so very wonderful after all; no woman could stand upon
+clouds in that way, and as she _was_ a woman, she did not see why the
+painter did not exhibit her in a possible situation; and those little
+angels at the foot of the picture--where was the other half of them
+supposed to be? she did not like half of anything. But Dolly dreamed in
+rapture, before this and many another wonder of art. Mrs. Copley made
+processions round the rooms constantly, drawing, of course, St. Leger
+with her; she could not be still. But Dolly would stop before a picture
+and be immoveable for half an hour, drinking in pleasure and feeding
+upon knowledge; and Rupert generally took post behind her and acted as
+body-guard. What he made of the show, I do not know. Dolly asked him
+how he liked it? He said, "first-rate."
+
+"Well, what do you think of it, Rupert?" Dolly asked gaily.
+
+"Well, I guess I don't just see into it," was the dubious answer. "If
+these are likenesses of folks, they ain't like my folks."
+
+"Oh, but they are not likenesses; most of them are not."
+
+"What are they, then? and what is the good of 'em, if they don't mean
+anything?"
+
+"They are out of people's imagination; as the painter imagined such and
+such persons might have looked, in such situations."
+
+"How the painter imagined they might have looked!" cried Rupert.
+
+"Yes. And they mean a great deal; all that was in the painter's mind."
+
+"I don't care a red cent how a man fancies somebody looked. I'd like
+the real thing, if I could get it. I'd go some ways to see how the
+mother of Christ _did_ look; but you say that ain't it?"
+
+"No," said Dolly, smiling.
+
+Rupert surveyed the great picture again.
+
+"Don't you think it is beautiful, Rupert?" Dolly pursued, curious to
+know what went on in his thoughts.
+
+"I've seen as handsome faces--and handsomer," he said slowly; "and I
+like flesh and blood a long sight better than a painting, anyhow."
+
+"Handsome?" said Dolly. "Oh, it is not _that_--it is so much more!"----
+
+"What is it, Miss Dolly?" said Lawrence, just then coming up behind
+her. "I should like to hear your criticism. Do put it in words."
+
+"That's not easy; and it is not criticism. But I'll tell you how it
+seems to me; as the painting, not of anybody's features, but of
+somebody's nature, spirit. It is a painting of the spiritual character."
+
+"Mental traits can be expressed in words, though," said Lawrence.
+"You'll go on, I hope?"
+
+"I cannot," said Dolly. "It is not the lovely face, Mr. Babbage; it is
+thought and feeling, love and purity, and majesty--but the majesty of a
+person who has no thought of herself."
+
+Dolly could not get out of that one room; she sat before the Raphael,
+and then stood fixed before the "Notte" or the "Magdalene" of
+Correggio; and would not come away. Rupert always attended on her, and
+Mrs. Copley as regularly made progresses through the rooms on
+Lawrence's arm, till she declared herself tired out. They were much
+beholden to Lawrence and his good offices these days, more than they
+knew; for it was past the season when the gallery was open to the
+public, and entrance was obtained solely by the influence of St.
+Leger's mediation and money; how much of the latter they never knew.
+Lawrence was a very good escort also; his address was pleasant, and his
+knowledge of men and things sufficient for useful purposes; he knew in
+general what was what and who was who, and was never at a loss. Rupert
+followed the party like a faithful dog, ready for service and with no
+opportunity to show it; Lawrence held the post of leader and manager
+now, and filled it well. In matters of art, however, I am bound to say,
+though he could talk more, he knew as little as Rupert himself.
+
+"What is to be done to-morrow?" he asked, in the evening of that second
+day.
+
+"We haven't got our letters yet," said Mrs. Copley. "I can't see why
+they don't come."
+
+"So the Green vaults must wait. What else shall we do?"
+
+"Oh," said Dolly, "might we not go to the gallery again?"
+
+"Another day?" cried her mother. "Why, you have been there two whole
+mornings, child. Ain't that enough?"
+
+"Mother, I could go two months, I think."
+
+"Then you'd catch your death," said Mrs. Copley. "That inner room is
+very chill now. For my part, I do not want to see another picture again
+in days and days. My head swims with looking at them. I don't see what
+you find in the old things."
+
+Dolly could not have told. She sighed, and it was agreed that they
+would drive about the city and its environs next day; Lawrence assuring
+them that it was one of the pleasantest towns in Germany. But the next
+morning early came the letters from Mr. Copley; one to his wife and one
+to Dolly.
+
+Dolly read them both and pondered them; and was unsatisfied. They were
+rather cheerful letters; at the same time Mr. Copley informed his wife
+and daughter that he could not join them in Dresden; nor at any rate
+before they got to Venice. So much was final; but what puzzled and
+annoyed Dolly yet more than this delay was the amount of money he
+remitted to her. To her, for Mrs. Copley, as an invalid, it was agreed,
+should not be burdened with business. So the draft came in the letter
+to Dolly; and it was not half large enough. Dolly kept the draft, gave
+the letter to her mother to read, and sat in a mazed kind of state,
+trying to bring her wits to a focus upon this condition of affairs.
+
+What was her father thinking of? It is one thing to be short of funds
+at home, in one's own country and in one's own house; it is bad enough
+even there; what is it when one is in a strange land and dependent upon
+the shelter of other people's houses, for which an equivalent must be
+paid in money? and when one is obliged to travel from one place to
+another, and every mile of the way demands another equivalent in money?
+Mr. Copley had sent a little, but Dolly knew it would by no means take
+them to Venice. What did he intend? or what did he expect her to do?
+Apply to Lawrence? Never! No, not under any pressure or combination
+that could be brought to bear. He would demand an equivalent too; or
+worse, think that it was guaranteed, if she made such an application.
+How could Mr. Copley place his child in such a predicament? And then
+Dolly's head went down in her hands, for the probable answer crushed
+her. He never would, he never could, but for yielding to unworthy
+indulgences; becoming entangled in low pleasures; taken possession of
+by the influence of unprincipled men. Her father!--Dolly felt as if her
+heart would break or her head burst with its burden of pain,--"Oh, a
+father never should let his child feel ashamed for him!" was the secret
+cry down in the depths of her heart. Dolly would not speak it out ever,
+even to herself, but it was there, all the same; and it tortured her,
+with a nameless, exquisite torture, under which she mentally writhed,
+without being able to get the least relief. Every surge of the old love
+and reverence broke on those sharp rocks of pain more hopelessly. "O
+father!--O father!" she cried silently, with a pitiful vain appeal
+which could never be heard.
+
+And then the practical question came back, taking away her breath. What
+was she to do? If they did not stay too long in Dresden they would have
+enough money to pay their lodging-bill and go, she calculated, half the
+way to Venice. What then? And if Mr. Copley met them in Venice,
+according to promise, who would assure her that he would then come
+provided with the necessary funds? and what if he failed to come?
+
+Dolly started up, feeling that she could not sit any longer thinking
+about it; her nerves were getting into a hard knot. She would not
+think; she busied herself in making her mother and herself ready for
+their morning's excursion. And Lawrence came with a carriage; and they
+set off. It was a lovely day, and certainly the drive was all it had
+promised; and Dolly barred off thought, and _would_ look and enjoy and
+talk and make others enjoy; so the first part of the day passed very
+well. Dolly would make no arrangements for the afternoon, and Mrs.
+Copley was able for no more that day.
+
+But when the early dinner was over, Dolly asked Rupert to walk with
+her. Rupert was always ready, and gave a delighted assent.
+
+"Are you going out again? and to leave me all alone?" said Mrs. Copley.
+
+"You will be lying down, mother dear; you will not want me; and I have
+business on hand, that I must attend to."
+
+"I don't see what business," said Mrs. Copley fretfully; "and you can't
+do anything here, in a strange place. You'd better get Mr. St. Leger to
+do it for you."
+
+"He cannot do my work," said Dolly lightly.
+
+"But you had better wait and take him along, Dolly. He knows where to
+go."
+
+"So do I, mother. I want Rupert this time, and not Mr. St. Leger. You
+sleep till I come back."
+
+Dolly had said she meant business, but at first going out things did
+not look like it. She went slowly and silently along the streets, not
+attending much to what she was passing, Rupert thought; till they
+arrived at an open spot from which the view of the river, with the
+bridge and parts of the town, could be enjoyed; and there Dolly sat
+down on a step, and still without speaking to Rupert, bent forward
+leaning on her knees, and seemed to give herself up to studying the
+beautiful scene. She saw it; the river, the picturesque bridge, the
+wavy, vine-clad hills, the unfamiliar buildings of the city, the villas
+scattered about on the banks of the Elbe; she saw it all under a clear
+heaven and a sunny light which dressed everything in hues of
+loveliness; and her face was fixed the while in lines of grave thought
+and gave back no reflection of the beauty. It had beauty enough of its
+own, Rupert thought; who, I must say, paid little heed to the landscape
+and watched his companion instead. The steady, intent, sweet eyes, how
+much grave womanliness was in them; how delicate the colour was on the
+cheek, and how tender were the curves of the lips; while the wilful,
+clustering curly hair gave an almost childish setting to the features
+whose expression was so very un-childish. For it was exceedingly grave.
+Dolly did see the lovely landscape, and it made her feel alone and
+helpless. There was nothing wonted or familiar; she seemed to herself
+somehow cast away in the Saxon capital. And truly she was all alone.
+Lawrence she could not apply to, her mother must not even be talked to;
+she knew nobody else. Her father had let her come on this journey, had
+sent her forth, and now left her unprovided even for the barest
+necessities. No doubt he meant that she should be beholden to Mr. St.
+Leger, to whom he could return the money by and by. "Or not at all,"
+thought Dolly bitterly, "if I would give him myself instead. O father,
+could you sell me!" Then came the thought of the entanglements and
+indulgences which had brought Mr. Copley to do other things so unlike
+himself; and Dolly's heart grew too full. She could not bear it; she
+had borne up and fought it out all the morning; now feeling and truth
+must have a minute for themselves; her head went down on her hands and
+she burst into quiet sobs.
+
+Quiet, but deep. Rupert, looking on in dismayed alarm, saw that this
+outbreak of pain had some deep grounded cause; right or wrong, it came
+from Dolly's very heart, and her whole nature was trembling. He was
+filled with a great awe; and in this awe his sympathy was silent for a
+time; but he could not leave the girl to herself too long.
+
+"Miss Dolly," he said in a pause of the sobs, "I thought you were such
+a Christian?"
+
+Dolly started, lifted her quivering, tearful face, and looked straight
+at him. "Yes," she said,--"what then?"
+
+"I always thought religious folks had something to comfort them."
+
+"Don't think they haven't," said Dolly. But there she broke down again,
+and it was a storm of a rain shower that poured from her eyes this
+time. She struggled to get the better of it, and as soon as she could
+she sat up again, brushing the tears right and left with her hands and
+speaking in a voice still half choked.
+
+"Don't think they haven't! If I had not _that_, my heart would just
+break and be done with it. But being a Christian does not keep one from
+suffering--sometimes." Her voice failed.
+
+"What is the matter? No, I don't mean that you should tell me that;
+only--can't I do something?"
+
+"No, thank you; nobody can. Yes, you are doing a great deal, Rupert;
+you are the greatest comfort to me. I depend upon you."
+
+Rupert's eyes glistened. He was silent for sheer swelling of heart. He
+gulped down something--and went on presently.
+
+"I was thinkin' of something my old mother used to say. I know I've
+heard her say it, lots o' times. I don't know what the trouble is,
+that's a fact--so maybe I hadn't oughter speak; but _she_ used to say
+that nothing could happen to Christians that would do 'em any real
+hurt."
+
+"I know," said Dolly, wondering to herself how it could be true; "the
+Bible says so."--And then conscience rebuked her. "And it _is_ true,"
+she said, lifting up her head; "everything is true that the Bible says,
+and that is true; and it says other things"----
+
+"What?" said Rupert; more for her sake, I confess, than for his own.
+
+"It says--'Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is staid
+upon Thee;' I was reading it this morning. You see I must be a very
+poor Christian, or I should not have doubted a minute. But even a
+Christian, and the best, must be sorry sometimes for things he cannot
+help," said Dolly.
+
+"Then you were not troubled about yourself just now?" said Rupert.
+
+"Yes, I was! I was indeed, in spite of all those words and a great many
+others. I believe I forgot them."
+
+"I should think, if God gives people promises, He would like them to be
+trusted," said Rupert "That's what _we_ do."
+
+Dolly looked at him again as if he had said something that struck her;
+and then she got up, and taking his arm, set off this time at a
+business pace. She knew, she said, where to find what she wanted;
+however, she had gone out of her way, and it cost her some trouble and
+time to get to the place. It was a store of artists' materials, among
+other things; and here Dolly made careful purchases of paper, colours,
+and camel's-hair pencils. Rupert was reassured as to a suspicion that
+had crossed him, that part of Dolly's trouble might have been caused by
+want of means; seeing that she was buying articles of amusement with a
+free hand. Then Dolly went straight home.
+
+All the rest of that afternoon she sat drawing. The next two days, the
+weather was unfavourable for going out, and she sat at her work
+persistently, whenever she was not obliged to be reading to her mother
+or attending upon her. The day following the long-planned visit to the
+Green vaults was made. In the evening Lawrence came to see them.
+
+"Well, Mrs. Copley; tired?"--he began.
+
+"I don't know which part of me's most tired," said the lady; "my eyes,
+or my head, or my feet."
+
+"Did it pay, after all?"
+
+"Pay! I wouldn't have missed it for a year's length of life! It went
+ahead of all I ever thought of or dreamt of. It was most like Aladdin's
+lamp--or what he saw, I mean, when he went down into fairyland. I
+declare, it was just as good."
+
+"Only that you could not put things in your pockets. What would you
+have brought, Mrs. Copley, if it had been safe and allowable? The
+famous egg?"
+
+"Mercy, no, Mr. St. Leger! I shouldn't have a minute's peace of my
+life, for fear I should lose it again."
+
+"That's about how they say the first owner felt. They tell of him, that
+a lady once coaxed him to let her have the egg in her hand; and she
+kept it in her hand; and the prince forgot; and she drove back to
+Dresden with it."
+
+"Where was he, the prince?"
+
+"At some hunting castle, I believe. It was night before he found out
+his loss; and then he booted and spurred in hot haste and rode to
+Dresden in the middle of the night to fetch the egg from the lady
+again."
+
+"What's the use of things that give folks so much trouble?" said Rupert.
+
+"A matter of taste!" said Lawrence, shrugging his shoulders. "But I am
+glad to have been through those rooms myself; and I never should, but
+for you, Mrs. Copley. I suppose there is hardly the like to be seen
+anywhere else."
+
+"What delicious things there were in the ivory room," said Dolly.
+"Those drunken musicians, mother, of Albert Duerer; and some of the
+vases; how beautiful they were!"
+
+"I did not see the musicians," said Mrs. Copley. "I don't see how
+drunken musicians, or drunken anything, could be pretty. Odd taste, I
+think."
+
+"Then perhaps you didn't like the piece with the fallen angels?" said
+Rupert. "That beat me!"
+
+"How could there be peace with the fallen angels?" Mrs. Copley asked
+scornfully. At which, however, there was a great burst of laughter. "I
+liked best of all the room where the egg was, I believe. But the silver
+room was magnificent."
+
+"I liked the ivory better than the silver, mother."
+
+"Who does it all belong to?" Rupert asked.
+
+"The reigning house of Saxony," Lawrence answered.
+
+"The whole of it?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And that big picture gallery into the bargain?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"That's bein' grasping, for any one family to have so much," was
+Rupert's conclusion.
+
+"Well, you see," said Lawrence, "we get the good of it, and they have
+the care."
+
+"I don't see how we get the good of it," said Mrs. Copley. "I suppose
+if I had one of those golden birds, now, with the eyes of diamonds; or
+one of those wonderfully chased silver caskets; I should have enough to
+keep me in comfort the rest of my life. _I_ think things are queer,
+somehow. One single one of those jewels that lie heaped up there, and I
+should want for nothing more in this world. And there they lie and
+nobody has 'em."
+
+"Do you want for anything now, mother dear?" asked Dolly. She was busy
+at a side table, arranging something in a little frame, and did not
+look up from her work.
+
+"I should think I did!" was Mrs. Copley's rejoinder. "What don't I
+want, from breath up?"
+
+"Here you have had one wish fulfilled to-day--you have seen the Green
+vaults--and now we are going to Venice to fulfil another wish--what
+would you have?"
+
+"I don't like to think I am going away from here. I like Dresden best
+of all the places we've been in. And I would like to go through the
+Green vaults--but why they are called so, I cannot conceive--about once
+every month. I would _never_ get tired."
+
+"So you would like to settle in Dresden?" said Lawrence. "I don't think
+it would be safe to let you go through the Green vaults often, Mrs.
+Copley; you would certainly be tempted too much for your principles.
+Miss Dolly, we had better get her away. When _do_ we go, by the by?"
+
+Instead of answering, Dolly rose up and brought him something to look
+at; a plain little oval frame of black wood within which was a head in
+light water colours.
+
+"Mrs. Copley!" exclaimed Lawrence.
+
+"Is it like?"
+
+"Striking! capital. I'm not much of a judge of painting in general, but
+I know a friend's face when I see it; and this is to the life. To the
+life! Graceful, too. Where did you get it?"
+
+"I got the paper and the paints at a little shop in--I forget the name
+of the _strasse;_--and mother was here to my hand. Ecco!"
+
+"You _don't_ mean you did it?" said Lawrence, while the others crowded
+near to look.
+
+"I used to amuse myself with that kind of thing when I was at school,
+and I had always a knack at catching likenesses. I am going to try you,
+Rupert, next."
+
+"Ah, try me!" cried Lawrence. "Will you? and we will stay in Dresden
+till it is done."
+
+"Suppose I succeed," said Dolly softly,--"will you get me orders?"
+
+"Orders?"
+
+"Yes. To paint likenesses, like this, in miniature. I can take ivory,
+but I would not waste ivory on this one. I'll do yours on ivory if you
+like."
+
+"But _orders?_" said Lawrence, dumbfounded.
+
+"Yes," said Dolly, nodding, "orders; and for as high pay as you think I
+can properly ask. Hush! say nothing to mother"----
+
+"Is that like me?" Mrs. Copley asked, after studying the little picture.
+
+"Capitally like you!" Lawrence cried.
+
+"Then I've changed more'n I thought I had, that's all. I don't think I
+care about your painting me any more, Dolly, if that's the best you can
+do."
+
+"Why, Mrs. Copley," said Lawrence, "it's beautiful. Exactly your turn
+of the head, and the delicate fresh colour in your cheeks. It's
+perfect!"
+
+"Is it?" said Mrs. Copley in a modified tone. "So that's what you've
+been fussing about, Dolly, these two days. Well, take Mr. St. Leger
+next. I want to see what you'll make of him. She won't flatter you,"
+the lady went on; "that's one thing you may lay your account with; she
+won't flatter you. But if we're going away, you won't have much chance;
+and, seems to me, we had better settle which way we are going."
+
+Lawrence did not take up this hint. He sat gazing at the little
+miniature, which was in its way very lovely. The colours were lightly
+laid in, the whole was rather sketchy; but the grace of the delineation
+was remarkable, and the likeness was perfect; and Dolly had shown a
+true artist's eye in her choice of position and point of view.
+
+"I did not know you had such a wonderful talent," he remarked.
+
+Dolly made no answer.
+
+"You'll do me next?"
+
+"If you like my conditions."
+
+"I do not understand them," he said, looking up at her.
+
+"I want orders," Dolly said almost in a whisper.
+
+"Orders? To paint things like this? For money? Nonsense, Dolly!"
+
+"As you please, Mr. St. Leger; then I will stay here a while and get
+work through Frau Wetterhahn. She wants me to paint _her_."
+
+"You never will!"
+
+"I'll try."
+
+"As a favour then?"
+
+Dolly lifted her eyes and smiled at the young man; a smile that utterly
+and wholly bewitched him. Wilful? yes, he thought it was wilful, but
+sweet and arch, and bright with hope and purpose and conscious
+independence; a little defiant, a great deal glad.
+
+"Paint me," said he hastily, "and I'll give you anything you like."
+
+Dolly nodded. "Very well," said she; "then you may talk with mother
+about our route."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+LIMBURG.
+
+Lawrence did talk with Mrs. Copley; and the result of the discussion
+was that the decision and management of their movements was finally
+made over to him. Whether it happened by design or not, the good lady's
+head was quite confused among the different plans suggested; she could
+understand nothing of it, she said; and so it all fell into Lawrence's
+hand. I think that was what he wanted, and that he had views of his own
+to gratify; for Dolly, who had been engaged with other matters this
+time, expressed some surprise a day or two after they set out, at
+finding herself again in Weimar.
+
+"Going back the way we came?" she cried.
+
+"Only for a little distance--a few stages," explained Lawrence; "after
+that it will be all new."
+
+Dolly did not much care, nor know enough to correct him if he was going
+wrong; she gave herself up to hopeful enjoyment of the constantly
+varying new scenes and sights. Mrs. Copley, on the contrary, seemed
+able to enjoy nothing beyond the shortening of the distance between her
+and Venice. If she had known how much longer than was necessary
+Lawrence had made it!
+
+So it happened that they were going one day down a pleasant road which
+led along a river valley, when an exclamation from Dolly roused her
+mother out of a half nap. "What is it?" she asked.
+
+"Mother, such a beautiful, beautiful old church! Look--see how it sits
+up there grandly on the rock."
+
+"Very inconvenient, I should think," said Mrs. Copley, giving a glance
+out of the carriage window. "I shouldn't think people would like to
+mount up there often."
+
+"I believe," said Lawrence, also looking out now, "that must be a
+famous old church--isn't this Limburg?--yes. It is the cathedral at
+Limburg; a very fine specimen of its style, Miss Dolly, they say."
+
+"What is the style? it's beautiful! Gothic?"
+
+"No,--aw--not exactly. I'm not learned myself, really, in such matters.
+I hardly know a good thing when I see it--never studied antiquities,
+you know; but this is said, I know, to be a very good thing."
+
+"How old? It does not look antiquated."
+
+"Oh, it has been repaired and restored. But it is not Gothic, so it
+dates further back; what they call the Transition style."
+
+"It is very noble," said Dolly. "Is it as good inside as outside?"
+
+"Don't know, I declare; I suppose so. We might go in and see; let the
+horses feed and Mrs. Copley take a rest."
+
+This proposition was received with such joy by Dolly that it was at
+once acted upon. The party sought out an inn, bespoke some luncheon,
+and arranged for Mrs. Copley's repose. But chancing to hear from
+Lawrence that the treasures of art and value in the church repositories
+were both rich and rare, she gave up the promised nap and joined the
+party who went to the dome. After the Dresden Green vaults, she said,
+she supposed nothing new could be found; but she would go and see. So
+they went all together. If Lawrence had guessed to what this chance
+visit would lead! But that is precisely what people can never know.
+
+Dolly was in a condition of growing delight, which every step
+increased. Before the great front of the cathedral she stood still and
+looked up, while Rupert and Mrs. Copley turned their backs and gazed
+out upon the wide country view. Lawrence, as usual when he could,
+attended upon Dolly.
+
+"I did not know you were so fond of _this_ kind of thing," he remarked,
+seeing a little enviously her bright, interested eyes.
+
+"It lifts me almost off my feet!" said Dolly. "My soul don't seem big
+enough to take it all in. How grand, how grand!--Whose statues are
+those?"
+
+"On each side?" said Lawrence, who had been collecting information.
+"That on the one hand is Heinrich von Isenburg, the founder; and the
+other is the architect, but nobody knows his name. It is lost. St.
+George is on the top there."
+
+"Well," said Dolly, "he is just as well off as if it hadn't been lost!"
+
+"Who? the architect? How do you make that out? He loses all the glory."
+
+"How does he lose it? Do you think," said Dolly, smiling, "he would
+care, in the other world, to know that you and I liked his work?"
+
+"The other world!" said St. Leger.
+
+"You believe in it, don't you?"
+
+"Yes, certainly; but you speak as if"----
+
+"As if I believed in it!" said Dolly merrily. "You speak as if you
+didn't."
+
+"I do, I assure you; but what is fame then?"
+
+"Nothing at all," said Dolly.--"Just nothing at all; if you mean
+people's admiration or applause given when we have gone beyond reach of
+it."
+
+"Beyond reach of it!" said Lawrence, echoing her words again. "Miss
+Dolly, do you think it is no use to have one's name honoured by all the
+world for ages after we have lived?"
+
+"Very good for the world," said Dolly, with a spice of amusement
+visible again.
+
+"And nothing to the man?"
+
+"What should it be to the man?" said Dolly, seriously enough now. "Mr.
+St. Leger, when a man has got beyond this world with its little cares
+and interests, there will be just one question for him,--whether he has
+done what God put him here to do; and there will be just one word of
+praise that he will care about,--the 'Well done!'--if he may have
+it,--from those lips."
+
+Dolly began quietly, but her colour flushed and her lip trembled as she
+went on, and her eye sparkled through a sudden veil of tears. Lawrence
+was silenced by admiration, and almost forgot what they were talking
+about.
+
+"But don't you think," he began again, as Dolly moved towards the
+church door, "that the one thing--I mean, the praise here,--will be a
+sort of guaranty for the praise there?"
+
+"No," said Dolly. "That which is highly esteemed among men is
+abomination in the sight of God--often, often." She pushed open the
+door and went in. Only a little way in; there she stood still, arrested
+by all the glory and the beauty that met her eye. The nobleness of
+form, the wealth of colour, the multiplied richness of both, almost
+bewildered her at first entering. Pillars, arches, vaultings, niches,
+galleries, arcades--a wilderness of harmonised form; and every panel
+and fair space filled with painting. She could not see details yet; she
+was lost in the greatness of the whole.
+
+"Whom has Mrs. Copley picked up?" asked Lawrence in an undertone. After
+all, if the architect's posthumous fame had depended on him, it would
+not have been worth much effort. Mrs. Copley, it may be mentioned, had
+passed on while Dolly and St. Leger had stood talking outside; and now
+she was seen in the distance the centre of a group of lively talkers;
+at least there was one lady who was free to exercise her gifts in that
+way. Lawrence and Dolly slowly advanced, even Dolly's attention taken
+for a moment from the church by this extraordinary combination. Yes,
+Mrs. Copley had found acquaintances. The talker was a lady of about her
+own age; a gentleman stood near, a little behind was a younger lady,
+while Rupert balanced the group on the other side.
+
+"There's something uncommon over yonder," whispered Lawrence. "Do you
+see that blond girl? not blond neither, for her hair isn't; but what an
+exquisite colour!--and magnificent figure. Do you know her?"
+
+"No," said Dolly,--"I think not. Yet I do. Who can it be? I do not know
+the one talking to mother."
+
+"And this is she?" the elder lady was saying as Dolly now came up,
+looking at her with a smiling face. "It's quite delightful to meet
+friends in the midst of a wilderness so; like the print of a man's foot
+on the sands in a desert; for really, in the midst of strange people
+one feels cast away. She's handsomer than you were, Mrs. Copley. My
+dear, do you know your old schoolfellow?"
+
+"Christina Thayer!" exclaimed Dolly, as the other young lady came
+forward; and there was a joyful recognition on both sides.
+
+"Who is your friend?" Mrs. Thayer next went on. "Won't you introduce
+him?--St. Leger? Don't I know your father? Ernest Singleton St.
+Leger?--Yes! Why, he was a great beau of mine once, a good while ago,
+you know," she added, nodding. "You might not think it, but he was. Oh,
+I know him very well; I know him like a book. You must be my friend.
+Christina, this is Mr. St. Leger; my old friend's son.--Mr. Thayer."
+
+Mr. Thayer was nothing remarkable. But Christina had fulfilled the
+promise of her girlhood, and developed into a magnificent beauty. Her
+skin showed the richest, clear, creamy white tints, upon which in her
+cheeks and lips the carmine lay like rose leaves. Her hair was light
+brown and abundant, features regular, eyes sweet; she was one of those
+fair, full, stately, placid Saxon types of beauty, which are not very
+common in America and remarkable anywhere. Her figure was roundly and
+finely developed, rather stately and slow moving; which characteristic
+harmonised with all the rest of her. The two girls were as unlike each
+other as possible. It amused and half fascinated Lawrence to watch the
+contrast. It seemed to be noon of a summer day in the soul of
+Christina, a still breadth of light without shadow; there was a murmur
+of content in her voice when she spoke, and a ripple of content in her
+laugh when she laughed. But the light quivered on Dolly's lip, and
+gleamed and sparkled in her brown eyes, and light and shadow could flit
+over her face with quick change; they did so now.
+
+Meanwhile people had forgotten the old cathedral. Christina seemed
+unaffectedly glad at the meeting with her friend of the school days.
+
+"I'm so delighted," she said, drawing Dolly a little apart. "Where are
+you? where do you come from, I mean? How come you to be here?"
+
+"We come from Dresden; we are on our way"----
+
+"You are living in London, aren't you? I heard that. It's too good to
+meet you so! for Europe is full of people, no doubt, but there are very
+few that I care for. Oh, tell me where you are going?"
+
+"Venice first."
+
+"And further south? you are going on into Italy?"
+
+"Yes, I think so."
+
+"That's delightful. Oh, there's nothing like Italy! It is not your
+wedding journey, Dolly?"--with a glance at the very handsome young man
+who was standing in waiting a few paces off.
+
+"What are you thinking of!" cried Dolly. "Christina, we are travelling
+for mother's health."
+
+"Oh, well, I didn't suppose it; but it might be, you know; it will be,
+before you know it. It isn't _mine_, either; though it only wants two
+things of it. Oh, I want to tell you all about myself, Dolly, and I
+want to show you somebody; I have got somebody to show, you see. You
+will come and make us a visit, will you not? Oh, you must! I must have
+you."
+
+"You said it wanted only _two things_ of being your wedding journey?
+What things?"
+
+"The presence of the gentleman, and the performance of the ceremony."
+And as Christina said it, a delicate peach-blossom bloom ripened in her
+cheeks; you could hardly say that she blushed. "Oh, the gentleman is
+somewhere, though he is not here," she went on, with that ripple of
+laughter; "and the ceremony is somewhere in the distance, too. I want
+you to see him, Dolly. I am proud of him. I think everything in the
+world of him."
+
+"I suppose I may know his name?"
+
+"Christina," cried Mrs. Thayer, "where are you? My dear, we cannot
+stand here and talk all the afternoon; our friends have got to see the
+church. Isn't it a delicious old place? Just go round and examine
+things; I could stay here for ever. Every little place where there is
+room for it is filled with the quaintest, queerest, charmingest
+paintings. Where there is room for it, there is a group; and where
+there is not a group, there is an apostle or a saint; and where there
+is not room for that, there is something else, which this
+unintelligible old guide will explain to you. And think--for years and
+years it has held the richest collection--oh, just wait and see! it is
+better than the church itself. My dear, the riches of its treasures are
+incalculable. Fancy, a mitre, a bishop's mitre, you know, so heavy with
+precious stones that the good man cannot bear it on his head but a few
+minutes; over three thousand pearls and precious stones in it; and the
+work, oh, the work of it is wonderful! just in the finest
+Renaissance"----
+
+"We have just come from the Green vaults at Dresden," put in Mrs.
+Copley. "I suppose that goes ahead of everything else."
+
+"Oh, my dear, I don't know; I don't see how anything can be superior to
+the show here. Is Mr. St. Leger fond of art?"
+
+"Fonder of nature," Mr. St. Leger confesses with a bow.
+
+"Nature,--well, come to see us at Naples. We have got a villa not far
+from there--you'll _all_ come and stay with us. Oh, we cannot let you
+off; it is such a thing to meet with one's own people from home. You
+will certainly want to see us, and we shall want to see you. Venice, oh
+yes, after you have seen Venice, and then we shall be at home again; we
+just set off on this journey to use up the time until the 'Red Chief'
+could come to Naples. We are going back soon, and we'll be all ready to
+welcome you. And Mr. St. Leger, of course. Mr. St. Leger, I could tell
+you a great deal about your father. He and I flirted dreadfully once;
+and, you know, if flirting is _properly_ carried on, one always has a
+little sneaking kindness for the people one has flirted with."
+
+"No more than that?" said St. Leger with a polite smile.
+
+"Why, what would you have? after one has grown old, you know. You would
+not have me in love with him! Here is my husband and my daughter. Don't
+you have a kindness for the people you flirt with?"
+
+"I must not say anything against flirting, in the present company"----
+Lawrence began.
+
+"No, of course you mustn't. We all flirt, at a certain age. How are
+young people to get acquainted with one another and find out what they
+would like? You never buy cheese without tasting it, you know, not in
+England. Just as well call things by their right names. I don't think
+anybody ought to deny flirting; it's nature; we must do it. Christina
+flirts, I know, in the most innocent way, with everybody; not as I did;
+she has her own style; and your daughter does it too, Mrs. Copley. I
+can see it in her eyes. Ah me, I wish I was young again! And what a
+place to flirt in such an old church is!"
+
+"O mamma!" came from Christina.
+
+"Very queer taste, I should say," remarked Mrs. Copley.
+
+"It isn't taste; it is combination of circumstances," Mrs. Thayer,
+smiling, went on. "You see if I don't say true. My dear, such a place
+as this is full of romance, full! Just think of the people that have
+been married here; why, the first church was built here in 814; imagine
+that!"
+
+"Enough to keep one from flirting for ever," said Dolly, on whom the
+lady's eye fell as she ended her sentence.
+
+"Just go in and see those jewels and hear the stories," said Mrs.
+Thayer, nodding at her. "That old woman will tell you stories enough,
+if you can understand her; Christina had to translate for me; but, my
+dear, there's a story there fit to break your heart; about a blood
+jasper. It is carved; Mr. Thayer says the carving is very fine, and I
+suppose it is; but all I thought of was the story. My dear, the stone
+is all spotted with dark stains, and they are said to be the stains of
+heart's blood. Oh, it is as tragical as can be. You see, the carver, or
+stone-cutter,--the young man who did the work,--loved his master's
+daughter--it's a very romantic story--and she"----
+
+"Flirted?" suggested St. Leger.
+
+"Well, I am afraid she did; but it is the old course of things; her
+father thought she might look higher, you know, and she _did;_ married
+the richest nobleman in Verona; and the young man had been promised her
+if he did his work well, and the work is magnificently done; but he was
+cheated; and he drove a sharp little knife into his heart. Christina,
+what was the old master's name?"
+
+"I forget, mamma."
+
+"You ought not to forget; you will want to tell the story. Of course
+_I_ have forgotten; I did not understand it at the time, and I never
+remember anything besides; but he was very famous, and everybody wanted
+the things he did, and he could not execute all the commissions he got;
+and this young man was his best favourite pupil."
+
+"How came the stains upon the stone?" asked Lawrence. "Did it bleed for
+sympathy?"
+
+"I don't know; I have forgotten. Oh yes! the stone was in his hand, you
+know."
+
+"And it was sympathy?" said Lawrence quite gravely, though Dolly could
+not keep her lips in order.
+
+"No, it was the blood. Go in and you'll see it, and all the rest. And
+there---- Where are you going? to Venice? We are going on to Cologne
+and then back to Rome. We shall meet in Rome? You will stay in Venice
+for a few weeks, and then be in Rome about Christmas; and then we will
+make arrangements for a visit from you all. Oh yes, we must have you
+all."
+
+Lawrence accompanied the lady to the door, and Christina following with
+Dolly earnestly begged for the meeting in Rome, and that Dolly would
+spend Christmas with her. "I have so much to tell you," she said; "and
+my--the gentleman I spoke of--will meet us in Rome; and he will spend
+Christmas with us; and I want you to see him. I admire Mr. St. Leger,
+very much!" she added in a confidential whisper.
+
+"Mr. St. Leger is nothing to me," said Dolly steadily, looking in her
+friend's face. "He is father's secretary, and is taking care of us till
+my father can come."
+
+"Oh, well, if he is not anything to you _now_, perhaps--you never know
+what will be," said Christina. "He is very handsome! Don't you like
+him? I long to know how you will like--Mr. Rayner."
+
+"Who is he?" said Dolly, by way of saying something.
+
+"Didn't I tell yon? He is first officer on board the 'Red Chief,' one
+of our finest vessels of war; it is in the Mediterranean now; and we
+expect him to come to us at Christmas. Manage to be at Rome then, do,
+dear; and afterwards you must all come and make us a visit at our
+villa, near Naples, and we'll show you everything."
+
+"Christina," said Mrs. Thayer, when she and her daughter and her
+husband were safe in the privacy of their carriage, "that is a son of
+the rich English banker, St. Leger; they are _very_ rich. We must be
+polite to him."
+
+"You are polite to everybody, mamma."
+
+"But _you_ must be polite to him."
+
+"I'll try, mamma--if you wish it."
+
+"I wish it, of course. You never know how useful such an acquaintance
+may be to you. Is he engaged to that girl?"
+
+"I think not, mamma. She says not."
+
+"That don't prove anything, though."
+
+"Yes, it does, with her. Dolly Copley was always downright--not like
+the rest."
+
+"Every girl thinks it is fair to fib about her lovers. However, I
+thought _he_ looked at you, Christina, not exactly as if he were a
+bound man."
+
+"He is too late," said the girl carelessly. "I am a bound woman."
+
+"Well, be civil to him," said her mother. "You never know what people
+may do."
+
+"I don't care, mamma. Mr. St. Leger's doings are of no importance to
+me."
+
+Mrs. Thayer was silent now; and her husband remarked that Mr. St. Leger
+could not do better than pick up that pretty, wise-eyed little girl.
+
+"Wise-eyed! she is that, isn't she?" cried Christina. "She always was.
+She is grown up wonderfully pretty."
+
+"She is no more to be compared to you, than--well, never mind," said
+Mrs. Thayer. "I hope we shall see more of them at Christmas. Talk of
+eyes,--Mr. St. Leger's eyes are beautiful. Did you notice them?"
+
+Dolly on her side had seen the party descend the rocks, looking after
+them with an odd feeling or mixture of feelings. The meeting with her
+school friend had brought up sudden contrasts never so sharply
+presented to her before. The gay carelessness of those old times, the
+warm shelter of her Aunt Hal's home, the absolute trust in her father
+and mother,--where was all that now? Dolly saw Christina's placid
+features and secure gaiety, saw her surrounded and sheltered by her
+parents' arms, strong to guard and defend her; and she seemed to
+herself lonely. It fell to her to guard and defend her mother; and her
+father? what was he about?--There swept over her an exceeding bitter
+cry of desolateness, unuttered, but as it were the cry of her whole
+soul; with again that sting of pain which seemed unendurable, how can a
+father let his child be ashamed of him! She turned away that St. Leger
+might not see her face; she felt it was terribly grave; and betook
+herself now to the examination of the church.
+
+And the still beauty and loftiness of the place wrought upon her by and
+by with a strange effect. Wandering along among pillars and galleries
+and arcades, where saints and apostles and martyrs looked down upon her
+as out of past ages, she seemed to be surrounded by a "great cloud of
+witnesses." They looked down upon her with grave, high sympathy, or
+they looked up with grave, high love and trust; they testified to work
+done and dangers met, and suffering borne, for Christ,--and to the
+glory awaiting them, and to which they then looked forward, and which
+now they had been enjoying--how long? What mattered the little troubled
+human day, so that heaven's long sunshine set in at the end of it? And
+that sun "shall no more go down." Dolly roved on and on, going from one
+to another sometimes lovely sometimes stern old image; and gradually
+she forgot the nineteenth century, and dropped back into the past, and
+so came to take a distant and impartial view of herself and her own
+life; getting a better standard by which to measure the one and
+regulate the other. She too could live and work for Christ. What though
+the work were different and less noteworthy; what matter, so that she
+were doing what He gave her to do? Not to make a noise in the world,
+either by preaching or dying; not to bear persecution; just to live
+true and shine, to comfort and cheer her mother, to reclaim and save
+her father, to trust and be glad! Yes, less than that latter would not
+do full honour to her Master or His truth; and so much as that He would
+surely help her to attain. Dolly wandered about the cathedral, and
+mused, and prayed, and grew quiet and strong, she thought; while her
+mother was viewing the church treasures with Mr. St. Leger, Dolly
+excused herself, preferring the church.
+
+"Dolly, Dolly," said Mrs. Copley when at last she came away, "you don't
+know what you have lost."
+
+"It is not so much as I have gained, mother."
+
+"I'm glad we have seen it, Mr. St. Leger; and I'm glad we have done
+with it! I don't want to see any more sights till we get to Venice.
+Where are the Thayers going, Dolly?"
+
+"To Cologne, mother, and to Nice and Mentone, they said."
+
+"I wish they were coming to Venice. How fat Christina has grown!"
+
+"O mother! She is a regular beauty--she could not do with less flesh;
+she ought not to lose an ounce of it. She is not fat. She is perfect.
+Is she not, Mr. St. Leger?"
+
+Lawrence assented that Miss Thayer had the symmetry of a beautiful
+statue.
+
+"Too fat," said Mrs. Copley. "If she is a statue now, what will she be
+by and by? I don't like that sort of beauties. Her face wants life."
+
+"It does not want sweetness," said Lawrence. "It is a very attractive
+face."
+
+"I am glad we stopped here, if it was only for the meeting them," said
+Mrs. Copley. "But I can't see how you could miss all those diamonds and
+gold and silver things, Dolly. They were just wonderful."
+
+"All the Green vaults did not give me the pleasure this old church did,
+mother."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+VENICE.
+
+"You and your friend are the most perfect contrast," remarked Lawrence
+as they were driving away. "She is repose in action--and you are
+activity in repose."
+
+"That sounds well," Dolly answered after a pause. "I am trying to think
+whether there is any meaning in it."
+
+"Certainly; or I hope so. She is placidity itself; one wonders if she
+could be anything but placid; while you"----
+
+"Never mind about me," said Dolly hastily. "I am longing to know
+whether mother will like Venice."
+
+"Shall you?"
+
+"Oh, I like everything."
+
+Which was the blissful truth. Even anxiety did not prevent its being
+the truth; perhaps anxiety even at times put a keener edge upon
+enjoyment; Dolly fled from troublesome thoughts to the beauties of a
+landscape, the marvels of a piece of mediaeval architecture, the
+bewitchment of a bit of painting from an old master's hand; and tasted,
+and lingered, and tasted over again in memory, all the beauty and the
+marvel and the bewitchment. Lawrence smiled to himself at the thought
+of what she would find in Venice.
+
+"There's one thing I don't make out," Rupert broke in.
+
+"Only one?" said Lawrence. But the other was too intent to heed him.
+
+"It bothers me, why the people that could build such a grand church,
+couldn't make better houses for themselves."
+
+"Ah!" said Lawrence. "You manage that better in America?"
+
+"If we didn't--I'd emigrate! We don't have such splendid things as that
+old pile of stones,"--looking back at the dome,--"but our farmhouses
+are a long sight ahead of this country."
+
+"I guess, Rupert," Dolly remarked now, "the men that built the dome did
+not build the farmhouses."
+
+"Who built the dome, as you call it, then? But I don't see any dome;
+there's only a nest of towers."
+
+"The nobles built the great cathedrals."
+
+"And if you went through one of _their_ houses," said Lawrence, "you
+would not think they neglected number one. You never saw anything like
+an old German _schloss_ in America."
+
+"Then the nobles had all the money?"
+
+"Pretty much so. Except the rich merchants in some of the cities; and
+_they_ built grand churches and halls and the like, and made themselves
+happy with magnificence at home in other ways; not architecture."
+
+"I am glad I don't belong here," said Rupert. "But don't the people
+know any better?"
+
+"Than what?"
+
+"Than to let the grand folks have it all their own way?"
+
+"They were brought up to it," said Lawrence. "That's just what they
+like."
+
+"I expect they'll wake up some day," said Rupert. Which observation
+Lawrence did not think worthy of answer; as it was ahead of the time
+and of him equally.
+
+They made no unnecessary delay now in going on to Venice. I think
+Lawrence had had a secret design to see some one of the great gaming
+watering-places; and they had come back to the banks of the Rhine on
+purpose. But, however, both Dolly and her mother were in such haste
+that he could not induce them by any motive of curiosity or interest to
+stop. Dolly indeed had a great horror of those places, and did not
+want, she said, to see how beautiful they were. She hoped for her
+father's coming to them in Venice; and Mrs. Copley with the nervous
+restlessness of an invalid had set her mind on that goal, and would not
+look at anything short of it. So they only passed through Wiesbaden and
+went on.
+
+But Dolly did want to see Switzerland. When the party came to the lake
+of Constance, however, Mrs. Copley declined that proposal. Everybody
+went to Switzerland, she said; and she did not care about it. The hope
+would have fallen through, only that Lawrence, seeing Dolly's
+disappointment, proposed taking a route through the Tyrol.
+Comparatively few people went there, he assured Mrs. Copley; and
+furthermore, that it was as good a way to Venice as any other. Mrs.
+Copley gave consent;  and to Dolly's immeasurable and inexpressible
+satisfaction through the Tyrol they went.  Nothing could spoil it, even
+although Mrs. Copley every day openly regretted her concession and
+would have taken it back if she could. The one of them was heartily
+sorry, the other as deeply contented, when finally the plains of
+Lombardy were reached.
+
+It was evening and rainy weather when they came to the last stage of
+their journey, and left the carriage of which Mrs. Copley had grown so
+weary.
+
+"What sort of a place is this?" she asked presently.
+
+"Not much of a place," said Lawrence. "We will leave it as fast as
+possible."
+
+"Well, I should hope so. What are these things? and is that a canal?"
+
+"We should call it a canal in our country," said Rupert; "but _there_
+there'd be something at the end of it."
+
+"But what are those black things?" Mrs. Copley repeated. "Do you want
+me to get into one of them? I don't like it."
+
+"They are gondolas, mother; Venetian gondolas. We must get into one, if
+we want to go to Venice."
+
+"Where is Venice?" said Mrs. Copley, looking over the unpromising
+landscape.
+
+"I don't know," said Dolly, laughing, "but Mr. St. Leger knows. We
+shall be there in a little while mother, if you'll only get in."
+
+"I don't like boats. And I never saw such boats as those in my life,"
+said Mrs. Copley, holding back. "I would rather keep the carriage and
+go on as we came; though all my bones are aching. I would rather go in
+the carriage."
+
+"But you cannot, mother; there are no carriages here. The way is by
+water; and boats are the only vehicles used in Venice. We may as well
+get accustomed to them."
+
+"No carriages!"
+
+"Why, surely you knew that before."
+
+"I didn't. I knew there were things to go on the canals; I never knew
+they were such forlorn-looking things; but I supposed there were
+carriages to go in the streets. Are there no carts either? How is the
+baggage going?"
+
+"There are no streets, mother. The ways are all water ways, and the
+carriages are gondolas; and it is just as lovely as it can be. Come,
+let us try it."
+
+"What are the houses built on?"
+
+"Mother, suppose you get in, and we'll talk as we go along. We had
+better get out of the rain; don't you think so? It is falling quite
+fast."
+
+"I had rather be in the rain than in the sea. Dolly, if it isn't too
+far, I'll walk."
+
+"It is too far, dear mother. You could not do that. It is a long way
+yet."
+
+Lawrence stood by, biting his lips between impatience and a sense of
+the ridiculous; and withal admiring the tender, delicate patience of
+the girl who gently coaxed and reasoned and persuaded, and finally
+moved Mrs. Copley to suffer herself to be put in the gondola, on the
+forward deck of which Rupert had been helping the gondoliers to stow
+some of the baggage. Dolly immediately took her place beside her
+mother; the two young men followed, and the gondola pushed off. Mrs.
+Copley found herself comfortable among the cushions, felt that the
+motion of the gondola was smooth, assured herself that it would not
+turn over; finally felt at leisure to make observations again.
+
+"We can't see anything here," she remarked, peering out first on one
+side, then on the other.
+
+"There is nothing to see," said Lawrence, "but the banks of the canal."
+
+"Very ugly banks, too. Are we going all the way by water now?"
+
+"All the way, to our hotel door."
+
+"Do the boatmen know where to go?"
+
+"Yes. Have no fear."
+
+"Why don't they have streets in Venice?"
+
+"Mother, don't you remember, the city is built on sand banks, and the
+sea flows between? The only streets possible are like this. Could
+anything be better? This motion will not fatigue you; and are not your
+cushions comfortable?"
+
+"The _sea_, Dolly?" cried Mrs. Copley, catching the word. "You never
+told me that. If the sea comes in, it must be rough sometimes."
+
+"No, mother; it is a shallow level for miles and miles, covered at high
+tide by a few feet of water, and at low tide bare. Venice is built on
+the sand banks of islands which rise above this level."
+
+"What ever made people choose such a ridiculous place to build a city,
+when there was good ground enough?"
+
+"The good ground was not safe from enemies, mother, dear. The people
+fled to these sand islands for safety."
+
+"Enemies! What enemies?"
+
+So the history had to be further gone into; in the midst of which Mrs.
+Copley burst out again.
+
+"I'm so tired of this canal!--just mud banks and nothing else. How much
+longer is it to last?"
+
+"We shall come to something else by and by. Have patience," said
+Lawrence.
+
+But the patience of three of them was tried, before they fairly emerged
+from the canal, and across a broader water saw the lines of building
+and the domes of Venice before them.
+
+"You'll soon be out of the gondola now, mother, dear," said Dolly
+delightedly. For the rain clouds had lifted a little, and the wide
+spread of the lagoon became visible, as well as the dim line of the
+city; and Dolly's heart grew big. Mrs. Copley's was otherwise.
+
+"I'll never get into one again," she said, referring to the gondolas.
+"I don't like it. I don't feel as if I was anywhere. There's
+another,--there's two more. Are they all painted black?"
+
+"It is the fashion of Venetian gondolas."
+
+"Well! there is nothing like seeing for yourself. I always had an idea
+gondolas were something romantic and pretty. Is the water deep here?"
+
+"No, very shallow," Lawrence assured her.
+
+"It looks just as if it was deep. I wouldn't have come to Venice if I
+had known what a forlorn place it is."
+
+But who shall tell the different impression on Dolly's mind, when the
+city was really reached and the gondola entered one of those narrow
+water-ways between rows of palaces. The rain had begun to come down
+again, it is true; a watery veil hung over the buildings, drops plashed
+busily into the canal; there were no beautiful effects of sunlight and
+shadow; and Lawrence himself declared it was a miserable coming to
+Venice. But Dolly was in a charmed state. She noted eagerly every
+strange detail; bridges, boats, people; was hardly sorry for the rain,
+she found so much to delight her in spite of it.
+
+"What's our man making such noises for?" cried Mrs. Copley.
+
+"Just to give warning before he turns a corner," Lawrence explained,
+"lest he should run against another gondola."
+
+"What would happen then? Is the water deep enough to drown? It would be
+horrid water to be drowned in!" said Mrs. Copley shuddering.
+
+"No danger, mother; we are not going to try it," Dolly said soothingly.
+
+"Nobody is ever drowned in Venetian canals," said Lawrence. "They will
+carry us safe to our hotel, Mrs. Copley; never fear."
+
+"But hasn't the water risen?" she exclaimed presently.
+
+"It is up to the steps of that house there."
+
+"It is up to all the steps, mother, so that people can get into their
+gondolas at their very door; don't you see?"
+
+"It goes ahead of everything!" exclaimed Rupert, who had scarce spoken.
+"It's like being in a fairy story."
+
+"I can't see much beside water," said Mrs. Copley. "Water above and
+water below. It must be unhealthy. And I thought Venice had such
+beautiful old palaces. I don't see any of 'em."
+
+"We have passed several of them," said Lawrence.
+
+"I can see nothing but black walls--except those queer painted sticks;
+what are _they_ for?"
+
+"To the gondolas in waiting."
+
+"What are they painted so for?"
+
+"The colours belonging to the family arms."
+
+"Whose family?"
+
+"The family to whom the house belongs."
+
+"Dolly," said Mrs. Copley, "we shall not want to stay here long. We
+might go on and try Rome. Mrs. Thayer says spring-time is the best at
+Naples."
+
+"It will all look very different, Mrs. Copley, when you see it by
+sunlight," said Lawrence. "Wait a little."
+
+Dolly would have enjoyed every inch of the way, if her mother would
+have let her. To her eyes the novel strangeness of the scene was
+entrancing. Not beautiful, certainly; not beautiful yet; by mist and
+rain and darkness how should it be? but she relished the novelty. The
+charmed stillness pleased her; the gliding gondolas; the but half
+revealed houses and palaces; the odd conveyance in which she herself
+was seated; the wonderful water-ways, the strange cries of the
+gondoliers. It was not half spoiled for her, as it was; and she trusted
+the morning would bring for her mother a better mood.
+
+Something of a better mood was produced that evening when Mrs. Copley
+found herself in a warm room, before a good supper. But the next
+morning it still rained. Dark skies, thick atmosphere, a gloomy outlook
+upon ways where no traveller for mere pleasure was to be seen; none but
+people bent on business of one sort or another. Yet everything was
+delightful to Dolly's eyes; the novelty was perfect, the
+picturesqueness undeniable. What she could see of the lagoon, of the
+vessels at anchor, the flying gondolas, the canals and the bridges over
+them, and the beautiful Riva, put Dolly in a rapture. Her eye roved,
+her heart swelled. "O mother!" she exclaimed, "if father would only
+come!"
+
+"What then?" said Mrs Copley dismally. "He would take us away, I hope."
+
+"Oh, but not until we have seen Venice."
+
+"_I_ have seen Venice enough to content me. It is the wettest place I
+was ever in my life."
+
+"Why, it rains, mother. Any place is wet when it rains."
+
+"This would be wet at all times. I think the ground must have sunk,
+Dolly; people would never have built in the water so. The ground must
+have sunk."
+
+"No, mother; I guess not. It has been always just so."
+
+"What made them build here then, when there is all the earth beside?
+What did they take to the water for? And what are the houses standing
+on, any way?"
+
+"Islands, mother, between which these canals run. I told you before."
+
+"I should think the people hadn't any sense."
+
+And nothing would tempt Mrs. Copley out that day. Of course Dolly must
+stay at home too, though she would most gladly have gone about through
+the rainy, silent city, in one of those silent gondolas, and feed her
+eyes at every step. However, she made herself and made her mother as
+comfortable as she could; got out her painting and worked at Rupert's
+portrait, which was so successful that Lawrence begged she would begin
+upon him at once.
+
+"You know the conditions," she said.
+
+"I accept them. Finish one of me so good as that, and I will send it to
+my mother and ask her what she will give for it."
+
+"But not tell her?"----
+
+"Certainly not."
+
+"I find," said Dolly slowly, "that it is a very great compliment for a
+lady to paint a gentleman's likeness."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"She has to give so much attention to the lines of his face. I
+shouldn't like to paint some people. But I'll do anybody, for a
+consideration."
+
+"Your words are not flattering," said Lawrence, "even if your actions
+are."
+
+"No," said Dolly. "Compliments are not in my way."
+
+And though she made a beginning upon St. Leger's picture, and studied
+the lines of his face accordingly, he did not feel flattered. Dolly's
+clear, intelligent eyes looked at him as steadily and as unmovedly as
+if he had been a Titian.
+
+The next day brought a change. If Dolly had watched from her balcony
+with interest the day before, now she was breathless with what she
+found. The sun was shining bright, a breeze was rippling the waters of
+the lagoon, and gently fluttering a sail and a streamer here and there;
+the beautiful water was enlivened with vessels of all kinds and of many
+lands, black gondolas darted about; and the buildings lining the shores
+of the lagoon stood to view in their beauty and magnificence and
+variety before Dolly's eye; the Doge's palace, here and there a clock
+tower, here and there the bridge over a side canal. "O mother!" she
+cried, "we have seen nothing like this! nothing like this!"
+
+"I am glad it don't rain at least," said Mrs. Copley. "But it can't be
+healthy here, Dolly; it must be damp."
+
+And when they all met at breakfast, and plans for the day began to be
+discussed, she declared that she did not want to see anything.
+
+"Not St. Mark's?" said Lawrence.
+
+"What is St. Mark's? It is just a church. I am sure we have seen
+churches enough."
+
+"There is only one St. Mark's in the world."
+
+"I don't care if there were a dozen. Is it better than the church we
+went to see--at that village near Wiesbaden?"
+
+"Limburg? Much better."
+
+"Well--that will do for me."
+
+"There is the famous old palace of the Doges; and the Bridge of Sighs,
+Mrs. Copley, and the prisons."
+
+"Prisons? You don't think I want to go looking at prisons, do you? Why
+should I? what's in the prisons?"
+
+"Not much. There has been, first and last, a good deal of misery in
+them."
+
+"And you think that is pleasant to look at?"
+
+Dolly could not help laughing, and confessed she would like to see the
+prisons.
+
+"Well, you may go," said her mother. "_I_ don't want to."
+
+Lawrence saw that Dolly's disappointment was like to be bitter.
+
+"I'll tell you what I'll show you, Mrs. Copley, if you'll trust
+yourself to go out," he said. "I have got a commission from my mother
+which must take me into one of the wonderful shops of curiosities here.
+You never saw such a shop. Old china, of the rarest, and old furniture
+of the most delightful description, and old curiosities of art out of
+decayed old palaces, caskets, vases, trinkets, mirrors, and paintings."
+
+Mrs. Copley demurred. "Can we go there in a carriage?"
+
+"No such thing to be had, except a gondola carriage. Come! you will
+like it. Why, Mrs. Copley, the streets are no broader than very narrow
+alleys. Carriages would be of no use."
+
+Mrs. Copley demurred, but was tempted. The gondola went better by day
+than in the night. Once out, Lawrence used his advantage and took the
+party first to the Place of St. Mark, where he delighted Dolly with a
+sight of the church. Mrs. Copley was too full of something else to
+admire churches. She waited and endured, while Dolly's eyes and mind
+devoured the new feast given to them. They went into the church, up to
+the roof, and came out to the Piazza again.
+
+"It is odd," said Dolly--"I see it is beautiful; I see it is
+magnificent; more of both than I can say; and yet, it does not give me
+the feeling of respect I felt for that old dome at Limburg."
+
+"But," said Lawrence; "that won't do, you know. St. Mark's and Limburg!
+that opinion cannot stand. What makes you say so?"
+
+"I don't know," said Dolly. "I have a feeling that the people who built
+that were more in earnest than the people who built this."
+
+"More in earnest? I beg your pardon!" said Lawrence. "What can you
+mean? I should say people were in earnest enough here, to judge by the
+riches of the place. Just see the adornment everywhere, and the
+splendour."
+
+"Yes," said Dolly, "I see. It is partly that. Though there was
+adornment, and riches too, at the other place. But the style of it is
+different. Those grave old towers at Limburg seemed striving up into
+the sky. I don't see any striving here; in the building, I mean."
+
+"Why, there are pinnacles enough," said Lawrence, in comical inability
+to fathom her meaning, or answer her.
+
+"Yes," said Dolly; "and domes; but the pinnacles do not strive after
+anything, and the cupolas seem to settle down like great extinguishers
+upon everything like striving."
+
+Lawrence laughed, and thought in his own mind that Dolly was a little
+American, wanting culture, and knowing nothing about architecture.
+
+"What is that great long building?" Mrs. Copley now inquired.
+
+"That, mother?--that is the palace of the Doges. Where is the Bridge of
+Sighs?"
+
+They went round to look at it from the Ponte della Paglia. Nearer
+investigation had to be deferred, or, Dolly saw, it would be too
+literally a bridge of sighs to them that morning. They turned their
+backs on the splendours, ecclesiastical and secular, of the Place of
+St. Mark, and proceeded to the store of second-hand curiosities St.
+Leger had promised Mrs. Copley, the visit to which could no longer be
+deferred. Dolly was in a dream of delight all the way. Sunlight on the
+old palaces, on the bridges over the canals, on the wonderful carvings
+of marbles, on the strange water-ways; sunlight and colour; ay, and
+shadow and colour too, for the sun could not get in everywhere. Between
+the beauty and picturesqueness, and the wealth of old historic legend
+and story clustering about it everywhere, Dolly's dream was entrancing.
+
+"I do not know half enough about Venice," she remarked by the way.
+"Rupert, we must read up. As soon as I can get the books," she added
+with a laugh.
+
+However, Dolly was susceptible to more than one sort of pleasure; and
+when the party had reached the Jew's shop, she was perhaps as much
+pleased though not so much engrossed as her mother. For Mrs. Copley,
+figuratively speaking, was taken off her feet. This was another thing
+from the Green vaults and the treasure chamber of Limburg; here the
+wonders and glories were not unattainable, if one had the means to
+reach them, that is; and not admiration only, but longing, filled Mrs.
+Copley's mind.
+
+"I must have that cabinet," she said. "I suppose we can do nothing till
+your father comes, Dolly. Do write and tell him to bring plenty of
+money along, for I shall want some. Such a chance one does not have
+often in one's life. And that cup! Dolly, I _must_ have that cup; it's
+beyond everything I ever did see!"
+
+"Mother, look at this ivory carving."
+
+"That's out of my line," said Mrs. Copley with a slight glance. "I
+should call that good for nothing, now. What's the use of it? But, O
+Dolly, see this sideboard!"
+
+"You don't want _that_, mother."
+
+"Why don't I? The price is not so very much."
+
+"Think of the expense of getting it home."
+
+"There is no such great difficulty in that. You must write your father,
+Dolly, to send if he does not come, at once. I should not like to leave
+these things long. Somebody else might see them."
+
+"Hundreds have seen them already, Mrs. Copley," said Lawrence. "There's
+time enough."
+
+"I'd rather not trust to that."
+
+"What things do you want, dear mother, seriously? Anything?"
+
+Dolly's voice carried a soft insinuation that her mother's wanting
+anything there was a delusion; Mrs. Copley flamed out.
+
+"Do you think I am coming into such a place as this, Dolly, and going
+to let the chance slip? I _must_ have several of these things. I'll
+tell you. This cup--that isn't much. Now that delicious old china
+vase--I do not know what china it is, but I'll find out; there is
+nothing like it, I don't believe, in all Boston. I have chosen that
+sideboard; _that_ is quite reasonable. You would pay quite as much in
+Boston, or in London, for a common handsome bit of cabinet-maker's
+work; while this is--just look at it, Dolly; see these drawers, see
+these compartments--that's for wine and cordials, you know"----
+
+"We don't want wine and cordials," said Dolly.
+
+"See the convenience and the curiousness of these arrangements; and
+look at the inlaying, child! It's the loveliest thing I ever saw in my
+life. Oh, I must have that! And it would be a sin to leave this screen,
+Dolly. Where ever do you suppose that came from?"
+
+"Eastern work," said Lawrence.
+
+"What eastern work?"
+
+"Impossible for me to say. Might have belonged to the Great Mogul, by
+the looks of it. Do you admire _that_, Mrs. Copley?"
+
+"How should it come here?"
+
+"Here? the very place!" said Lawrence. "What was there rare or costly
+in the world, that did not find its way to Venice and into the palaces
+of the old nobles?"
+
+"But how came it _here?_"
+
+"Into this curiosity shop? The old nobles went to pieces, and their
+precious things went to auction; and good Master Judas or Master Levi
+bought them."
+
+"And these things were in the palaces of the old nobles?"
+
+"Many of them. Perhaps all of them. I should say, a large proportion."
+
+"That makes them worth just so much the more."
+
+"You need not tell Master Levi that. And you have admired so much this
+morning, Mrs. Copley, if you will take my advice, it will be most
+discreet to come away without making any offer. Do not let him think
+you have any purpose of buying. I am afraid he will put on a fearful
+price, if you do."
+
+Whether Lawrence meant this counsel seriously, or whether it was a
+feint to get Mrs. Copley safely out of the shop, Dolly was uncertain;
+she was grateful to Lawrence all the same. No doubt he had seen that
+she was anxious. He had been in fact amused at the elder lady not more
+than interested for the younger one; Dolly's delicate attempts to draw
+off her mother from thoughts of buying had been so pretty,
+affectionate, and respectful in manner, sympathising, and yet steady in
+self-denial. Mrs. Copley was hard to bring off. She looked at Lawrence,
+doubtful and antagonistic, but his suggestion had been too entirely in
+her own line not to be appreciated. Mrs. Copley looked and longed, and
+held her tongue; except from exclamations. They got out of the shop at
+last, and Dolly made a private resolve not to be caught there again if
+she could help it.
+
+In the afternoon she devoted herself to painting Lawrence's picture.
+Her first purpose had been to take a profile or side view of him; but
+St. Leger declared, if the likeness was for his mother she would never
+be satisfied if the eyes did not look straight into her eyes; so Dolly
+had to give that point up; and accordingly, while she studied him, he
+had full and equal opportunity to study her. It was a doubtful
+satisfaction. He could rarely meet Dolly's eyes, while yet he saw how
+coolly they perused him, how calmly they studied him as an abstract
+thing. He wanted to see a little shyness, a little consciousness, a
+little wavering, in those clear, wise orbs; but no! Dolly sat at her
+work and did it as unconcernedly as if she were five years old, to all
+appearance; with as quiet, calm poise of manner and simplicity of
+dignity as if she had been fifty. But how pretty she was! Those eyes of
+hers were such an uncommon mingling of childhood and womanhood, and so
+lovely in cut and colour and light; and the mouth was the most mobile
+thing ever known under that name, and charming in every mood of rest or
+movement. The whole delicate face, the luxuriant brown hair, the little
+hands, the supple, graceful figure, Lawrence studied over and over
+again; till he felt it was not good for him.
+
+"Painting a person must make you well acquainted with him," he began
+after a long silence, during which Dolly had been very busy.
+
+"Outside knowledge," said Dolly.
+
+"Does not the outside always tell something of what is within?"
+
+"Something," Dolly allowed in the same tone.
+
+"What do you see in me?"
+
+"Mrs. St. Leger will know, when she gets this."
+
+"What you see _in_ me?"
+
+"Well, no--perhaps not."
+
+"Couldn't you indulge me and tell me?"
+
+"Why should I?"
+
+"Out of kindness."
+
+"I do not know whether it would be a kindness," said Dolly slowly.
+
+"You see, Dolly, a fellow can't stand everything for ever! I want to
+know what you think of me, and what my chances are. Come! I've been
+pretty patient, it strikes me. Speak out a bit."
+
+Mrs. Copley was lying down to rest, and Rupert had left the room. The
+pair were alone.
+
+"What do you want me to say, Mr. St. Leger?"
+
+"Tell me what you see in me."
+
+"What would be the good of that? I see an Englishman, to begin with."
+
+"You _see_ that in me?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"I am glad, but I didn't know it. Is that an advantage in your eyes?"
+
+"Am I an Englishwoman?"
+
+"Not a bit of it," said Lawrence, "nor like it. I never saw an English
+girl the least like you. But you might grow into it, Dolly, don't you
+think?"
+
+She lifted her face for an instant and gave him a flashing glance of
+fun.
+
+"Won't you try, Dolly?"
+
+"I think I would just as lieve be an American."
+
+"Why? America is too far off."
+
+"Very good when you get there," said Dolly contentedly.
+
+"But not better than we have on our side?"
+
+"Well, you have not all the advantages on your side," said Dolly, much
+occupied with her drawing.
+
+"Go on, and tell me _what_ we have not."
+
+"I doubt the wisdom."
+
+"I beg the favour."
+
+"It would not please you. In the first place, you would not believe me.
+In the second place, you would reckon an advantage what I reckon a
+disadvantage."
+
+"What _do_ you mean?" said Lawrence, very curious and at the same time
+uneasy. Dolly tried to get off, but he held her to the point. At last
+Dolly spoke out.
+
+"Mr. St. Leger, women have a better time in my country."
+
+"A better time? Impossible. There are no homes in the world where wives
+and daughters are better cared for or better loved. None in the world!"
+
+"Ah," said Dolly, "they are too well cared for."
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"Too little free."
+
+"Free?" said Lawrence. "Is _that_ what you want?"
+
+"And not quite respected enough."
+
+"Dolly, you bewilder me. What ever did you see or hear to make you
+think our women are not respected?"
+
+"I dare say it is a woman's view," said Dolly lightly. But Lawrence
+eagerly begged her to explain or give an instance of what she meant.
+
+"I have not seen much, you know," said Dolly, painting away. "But I
+heard a gentleman once, at his own dinner-table, and when there was
+company present--I was not the only visitor--I heard him tell his wife
+that the _soup was nasty_."
+
+And Dolly glanced up to see how Lawrence took it. She judiciously did
+not tell him that the house was his own father's, and the gentleman in
+question Mr. St. Leger himself. Lawrence was silent at first. I presume
+the thing was not so utterly unfamiliar as that he should be much
+shocked; while he did perceive that here was some difference of the
+point of view between Dolly's standpoint and his own, and was not ready
+to answer. Dolly glanced up at him significantly: still Lawrence did
+not find words.
+
+"That didn't mean anything!" at last he said. Dolly glanced at him
+again.
+
+"I suppose the soup _wasn't_ good. Why not say so?"
+
+"No reason why he should not say so, at a proper time and place."
+
+"It didn't mean any harm, Dolly."
+
+"I suppose not."
+
+"Then what's the matter?"
+
+"It is not the way _we_ do," said Dolly. "In America, I mean. Not when
+we are polite."
+
+"Do you think husband and wife ought to be polite to each other--in
+that way?"
+
+"In what way?"
+
+"That they should not call things by their right names?"
+
+Here Dolly lifted her sweet head and laughed; a merry, ringing,
+musical, very much amused laugh.
+
+"Ah, you see you are an Englishman," she said. "That is the way you
+will speak to your wife."
+
+"I will never speak to _you_, Dolly, in any way you don't like."
+
+"No" said Dolly gravely, and returning to her work.
+
+"Aren't you ever going to give me a little bit of encouragement?" said
+he. "I have been waiting as patiently as I could. May I tell my mother
+who did the picture, when I send it?"
+
+"Say it was done by a deserving young artist, in needy circumstances;
+but no names."
+
+"But that's not true, Dolly. Your father is as well off as ever he was;
+his embarrassments are only temporary. He is not in needy
+circumstances."
+
+"I said nothing about my father. Here, Mr. St. Leger--come and look at
+it."
+
+The finished likeness was done with great truth and grace. Dolly's
+talent was an extraordinary one, and had not been uncultivated. She had
+done her best in the present instance, and the result was a really
+delicious piece of work. Lawrence saw himself given to great advantage;
+truly, delicately, characteristically. He was delighted.
+
+"I will send it right off," he said. "Mamma has nothing of me half so
+good."
+
+"Ask her what she thinks it is worth."
+
+"And I want you to paint a duplicate of this, for me; for myself."
+
+"A duplicate!" cried Dolly. "I couldn't."
+
+"Another likeness of me then, in another view. Set your own price."
+
+"But I shall never make my fortune painting you," said Dolly. "You must
+get me some other customers; that is the bargain."
+
+"What notion is this, Dolly? It is nonsense between me and you. Why not
+let things be settled? Let us come to an understanding, and give up
+this ridiculous idea of painting for money;--if you are in earnest."
+
+"I am always in earnest. And we are upon an excellent understanding,
+Mr. St. Leger. And I want money. The thing is as harmonious as
+possible."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+MR. COPLEY.
+
+Lawrence could get no more satisfaction from Dolly. She left him, and
+went and stood at the window of her mother's room, looking out. The
+sunset landscape was glorious. Bay and boats, shipping, palaces, canals
+and bridges, all coloured in such wonderful colours, brilliant in such
+marvellous lights and shades, as northern lands do not know, though
+they have their own. Yet she looked at it sadly. It was Venice; but
+when would her father come? All her future seemed doubtful and cloudy;
+and the sunshine which is merely external does not in some moods cast
+even a reflection of brightness upon one's inner world. If her father
+would come, and Lawrence would go--if her father would come and be his
+old self--but what large "ifs" these were. Dolly's eyes grew misty.
+Then her mother woke up.
+
+"What are you looking at, Dolly?"
+
+"The wonderful sunset, mother. Oh, it is so beautiful! Do come here and
+see the colours on the sails of the boats."
+
+"When do you think your father will be here?"
+
+"Oh, soon, I hope. He ought to be here soon."
+
+"Did you tell him I would want money to buy things? I must not lose
+that sideboard."
+
+"There was no need to write about that. He can always get money, if he
+chooses, as well here as in London. If he has it, that is; but you
+know, mother"----
+
+"I know," Mrs. Copley interrupted, "that is all nonsense. He _has_ it.
+He always did have it. He has been spending it in other ways lately;
+that's what it is. Getting his own pleasure. Now it is my turn."
+
+"You shall have it, dear mother, if I can manage it. You are nicely
+to-day, aren't you? Venice agrees with you. I'm so glad!"
+
+"I think everything would go right, Dolly, if you would just tell Mr.
+St. Leger that you will have him. I don't like such humming and hawing
+about anything. He really has waited long enough. If you would tell him
+that, now, or tell _me_, then he would lend me the money I want to get
+those things. I am afraid of losing them. Dolly, when you know you are
+going to say yes, why not say it? I believe I should get well then,
+right off. _You_ would be safe too, any way."
+
+Dolly sighed imperceptibly, and made no answer.
+
+"You don't half appreciate Mr. St. Leger. He's just a splendid young
+man. I don't believe there's such another match for you in all England.
+You should have seen how keen Mrs. Thayer was to know all about him.
+Wouldn't she like him for her daughter, though! and she is handsome
+enough, according to some taste. I wish, Dolly, you'd have everything
+fixed and square before we meet the Thayers again; or you cannot tell
+what may happen. He may slip through your fingers yet."
+
+Dolly made as little answer as possible. And further, she contrived for
+a few days to keep her mother from the curiosity shops. It could be
+done only by staying persistently within doors; and Dolly shut herself
+up to her painting, and made excuses. But she found this was telling
+unfavourably on her mother's spirits, and so on her nerves and health;
+and she began to go out again, though chafing at her dependence on
+Lawrence, and longing for her father exceedingly.
+
+He came at last; and Dolly to her great relief thought he looked well;
+though certainly not glad to be in Venice.
+
+"How's your mother?" he asked her when they were alone.
+
+"I think she will be well now, father; now that you have come. And I
+have so wanted you!"
+
+"I have no doubt she could have got along just as well without me till
+she went to Sorrento, if she had only thought so."
+
+"I don't think she could. And _I_ could not, father. I do not like to
+be left so much to Mr. St. Leger's care."
+
+"He likes it. How has he behaved?"
+
+"He has behaved very well."
+
+"Then what's the matter?"
+
+"I don't want him to think he has a right to take care of us."
+
+"He has the right, if I give it to him. And you know you mean to give
+him the right, Dolly, in permanence. What's the use of fighting shy
+about it? Oh, girls, girls! You must have your way, I suppose. Well,
+now I'm here to look after you."
+
+And the business of sight-seeing was carried on from that time with
+unabating activity. They went everywhere, and still Mr. Copley found
+new things for them to see. Mrs. Copley took him into the curiosity
+shops, but as surely he took her out of them, with not much done in the
+way of purchases. Dolly enjoyed everything during the first week or
+two. She would have enjoyed it hugely, only that the lurking care about
+her father was always present to her mind. She was not at rest. Mr.
+Copley seemed well and cheery; active and hearty as usual; yet Dolly
+detected something hollow in the cheer and something forced in the
+activity. She thought him restless and uneasy, in spite of all the
+gaiety.
+
+One day after an excursion of some length the party had turned into a
+restaurant to refresh themselves. Chocolate and coffee had been
+brought; and then Mr. Copley exclaimed, "Hang it! this won't do. Have
+you drunk nothing but slops all this while, Lawrence?" And he ordered
+the waiter to bring a flask of Greek wine. Dolly's heart leaped to her
+mouth.
+
+"Oh no, father!" she said pleadingly, laying her hand on his.
+
+"Oh no, what, my child?"
+
+"No wine, please, father!" There was more intensity in Dolly's accents
+than perhaps anybody knew but Mr. Copley; he had the key; and the low
+quaver in Dolly's voice did not escape him. He answered without letting
+himself meet her eyes.
+
+"Why not? Hasn't Lawrence given you any _vino dolce_ since you have
+been in foreign parts? One can get good wine in Venice; and pure."
+
+"If one knows where to go for it," added St. Leger. "So I am told."
+
+"You have not found out by experience yet? We will explore together."
+
+"Not for wine, father?" murmured Dolly.
+
+"Yes, for wine. Wine is one of the good things. What do you think
+grapes grow for, eh? Certainly, wine is a good thing, if it is properly
+used. Eh, Lawrence?"
+
+"I have always thought so, sir."
+
+"Cheer your mother up now, Dolly. I believe it would do her lots of
+good. Here it is. We'll try."
+
+Dolly flushed with pain and anxiety. Yet here, how could she speak
+plainly? Her father was opening the bottle, and the waiter was setting
+the glasses.
+
+"We have it on good authority, Miss Dolly," Lawrence said, looking at
+her, and not sure how far he might venture, "that wine 'maketh glad the
+heart of man.'"
+
+"And on the same authority we have it that 'wine is a mocker.'"
+
+"What will you do with contradictory authority?"
+
+"They are not contradictory, those two words," said Dolly. "It is
+deceitful; it gets hold of a man, and then he cannot get loose from it.
+You _know_, Mr. St. Leger, what work it does."
+
+"Not _good_ wine," said her father, tossing off his glass. "That's
+fair; nothing extra. I think we can find better. Letitia, try it; I
+have a notion it will do you good;--ought to have been tried before."
+
+And he filled his wife's glass, and then Dolly's, and then Rupert's.
+Dolly felt as nearly desperate as ever in her life. Her father had the
+air of a man who has broken through a slight barrier between him and
+comfort. Mrs. Copley sipped the wine. Lawrence looked observingly from
+one face to another. Then Dolly stretched out her hand and laid it upon
+Rupert's glass.
+
+"Please stand by me, Rupert!" she begged.
+
+"I will!" said the young man, smiling. "What do you want me to do?"
+
+"Do as I do."
+
+"I will."
+
+Dolly lifted her glass and poured the contents of it into the nearly
+emptied chocolate jug. Rupert immediately followed her example.
+
+"What's that for?" said her father, frowning.
+
+"It's waste," added her mother. "I call that waste."
+
+"Don't make yourself ridiculous, Dolly!" Mr. Copley went on. "My child,
+the world has drunk wine ever since before you were born, and it will
+go on drinking it after you are dead. What is the use of trying to
+change what cannot be changed? What can _you_ do?"
+
+"Father, I will not help a bad cause."
+
+"How is it a bad cause, Miss Dolly?" said Lawrence now. "It is a
+certain pleasure,--but what harm?"
+
+"Do you ask me that?" said she, with a look of her clear, womanly eyes,
+which it was not very pleasant to meet.
+
+"Well, of course, if people misuse the thing,"---- he began.
+
+"Do they often misuse it, Mr. St. Leger?"
+
+"Well, yes; perhaps they do."
+
+"Go on. What are the consequences, when they misuse it?"
+
+"When people drink too much bad brandy of course--but wine like _this_
+never hurt anybody."
+
+Dolly thought, it had hurt _her_ that day; but she could not trust her
+voice to say it. Her lips trembled, her beautiful eyes filled, she was
+obliged to wait. And how, there before her father whom the fruit of the
+vine had certainly hurt grievously, and before Mr. St. Leger who knew
+as much and had seen it, could she put the thing in words? Her father
+had chosen his time cruelly. And where was his promise? Dolly fought
+and swallowed and struggled with herself; and tried to regain command
+of voice.
+
+"It's a narrow view, ray dear," said Mr. Copley, filling his glass
+again, to Dolly's infinite horror; "a narrow view. Well-bred people do
+not hold it. It is always a mistake to set yourself against the world.
+The world is generally right."
+
+"O father, do you think so?"
+
+"Not a doubt of it," said Mr. Copley, sipping the wine and looking from
+one to another of the faces in the little group. "Dolly is a foolish
+girl, Rupert; do not let her persuade you."
+
+"It certainly is not the wine that is to be condemned," said Lawrence,
+"but the immoderate use of it. That's all."
+
+"What do you call immoderate use of it?" Rupert asked now, putting the
+question in Dolly's interest.
+
+"More than your head can bear," said Lawrence. "Keep within that limit,
+and you're all right."
+
+"Suppose your neighbour cannot bear what you can?" said Dolly, looking
+at him. "And suppose your example tempts him?"
+
+"It's his business to know what he can take," said Lawrence. "It isn't
+mine."
+
+"But suppose he is drawn on by your example, and drinks more than he
+can bear? What follows, Mr. St. Leger?"
+
+Dolly's voice had a pathetic clang which touched Rupert, and I think
+embarrassed Lawrence.
+
+"If he is so unwise, of course he suffers for it. But as I said, that
+is his business."
+
+"And not yours?"
+
+"Of course not!" Mr. Copley broke in. "Dolly, you do not understand the
+world. How can I tell St. Leger how much he is to drink? or he tell me
+how much I must? Don't be absurd, child! You grow a little absurd,
+living alone."
+
+"Father, I think the world might be better than it is. And one person
+helps on another for good or for evil. And St. Paul was not of your
+opinion."
+
+"St. Paul? What did he say about it? That one must not drink wine? Not
+at all. He told Timothy, or somebody, to take it, for his stomach's
+sake."
+
+"But he said,--that if meat made his brother to offend, he would eat no
+meat while the world stood, lest he made his brother to offend. And
+meat is certainly a good thing."
+
+"Well, there are just two things about it," said Mr. Copley; "meat is
+not wine, and I am not St. Paul. A little more, Lawrence. If it is not
+a man's duty to look after his neighbour's potations, neither is it a
+woman's. Dolly is young; she will learn better."
+
+If she did not, Lawrence thought, she would be an inconvenient helpmeet
+for him. He was very much in love; but certainly he would not wish his
+wife to take up a crusade against society. Perhaps Dolly _would_ learn
+better; he hoped so. Yet the little girl had some reason, too; for her
+father gave her trouble, Lawrence knew. "I'm sorry," he thought,
+"deuced sorry! but really I can't be expected to take Mr. Copley, wine
+and all, on my shoulders. Really it is not my look-out."
+
+Dolly went home very sober and careful. It is true, not much wine had
+been drunk that day. Yet she knew a line had been passed, the passing
+of which was significant of future licence, and introductory to it. And
+that it had been done in her presence was to prove to her that her
+influence could avail nothing. It was bravado. What lay before her now?
+
+"Rupert," she said suddenly, as they were walking together, "let us
+make a solemn pledge, you and I, each to the other, that we will never
+drink wine nor anything of the sort; unless we must, for sickness, you
+know."
+
+"What would be the good of that?" said the young man, laughing.
+
+"I don't know," said Dolly, from whose eyes, on the contrary, hot tears
+began to drop. "Perhaps I shall save you, and you may save me; how can
+we tell?"
+
+"But we could keep from it just the same, without pledging ourselves?"
+said Rupert, soberly enough now.
+
+"Could; but we might be tempted. If we do this, maybe we can help other
+people, as well as each other."
+
+The tears were coming so thick from Dolly's eyes that Rupert's heart
+was sore for her. She was brushing them away, right and left, but he
+saw them glitter and fall; and he thought the man who could, for the
+sake of a glass of wine, cause such tears to be shed, was--I won't say
+what he thought he was. He was mad against Mr. Copley and St. Leger
+too. He promised whatever Dolly wanted.
+
+And when they were at home, and an opportunity was found, the agreement
+abovementioned was written out, and Rupert made two copies, and one of
+them he kept and one Dolly kept; both signed with both their names.
+
+So Rupert was safe. From that day, however, things went less well with
+Mr. Copley. He began by small degrees to withdraw himself from the
+constant attendance upon his wife and daughter which he had hitherto
+practised, leaving them again to Lawrence's care. By little and little
+this came about. Mr. Copley excused himself in the morning, and was
+with them in the evening; then after a while he was missing in the
+evening. Dolly tried to hold him fast, by getting him to sit for his
+picture; and the very observation under which she held him so, showed
+her that he was suffering from evil influences. His eyes had lost
+something of their frank, manly sparkle; avoided hers; looked dull and
+unsteady. The lines of his whole face inexplicably were changed; an
+expression of feebleness and something like humiliation taking place of
+the alert, bold, self-sufficient readiness of look and tone which had
+been natural to him. Dolly read it all, with a heart torn in two, and
+painted it as she read it; making a capital picture of him. But it
+grieved Dolly sorely, while it delighted everybody else.
+
+"What is it worth, father?" she asked, concealing as well as she could
+what she felt.
+
+"Worth? it's worth anything you please. It is glorious, Dolly!"
+
+"I work for money," she said archly.
+
+"Upon my word, you could turn a pretty penny if you did. This is
+capital work," said he, turning to Lawrence. "If this had been done on
+ivory, now"----
+
+"I did a likeness of Mr. St. Leger for his mother--that was on ivory.
+She sent me ten pounds for it."
+
+"Ten pounds to _her_. To anybody else, I should say it was worth
+twenty,--well," said Mr. Copley.
+
+"So I say, sir," Lawrence answered. "I am going to pay that price for
+my copy."
+
+"Then will you pay me twenty pounds, sir?"
+
+"I?" said Mr. Copley. "Not exactly, Dolly! I am not made of money, like
+your friend Lawrence here. Wish I could, and you should have it."
+
+"Will you get me customers, then, father?"
+
+"Customers!" echoed Mr. Copley.
+
+"Yes. Because you are not made of money, you know, father; and I want a
+good deal of money."
+
+"You!" said Mr. Copley, looking at her. For, indeed, Dolly had never
+been one of those daughters who make large demands on their father's
+purse. But Dolly answered now with a calm, practical tone and manner.
+
+"Yes, I do, father; and mother has a longing for some of those Arabian
+Nights things in the curiosity shops. You know people enough here,
+father; show them your picture and get me customers."
+
+"Don't be ridiculous, Dolly," said her father. "We are not at the point
+of distress yet. And," he added in a graver tone, as Lawrence left the
+room, "you must remember, that even if I were willing to see my
+daughter working as a portrait-painter, Mr. St. Leger might have a
+serious objection to his wife doing it--or a lady who is to be his
+wife."
+
+"Mr. St. Leger may dispose of his wife when he gets her," said Dolly
+calmly. "I am not that lady."
+
+"Yes, you are."
+
+"Not if I know anything about it."
+
+"Then you don't!" said Mr. Copley. "It is proverbial that girls never
+know their own minds. Why, Dolly, it would be the making of you, child."
+
+"No, father; only of my dresses."
+
+Mr. Copley was a little provoked.
+
+"What's your objection to St. Leger? Can you give one?" he asked hotly.
+
+"Father, he doesn't suit me."
+
+"You don't like him, because you don't like him. A real woman's reason!
+Isn't he handsome?"
+
+"Very. And sleepy."
+
+"He's wide awake enough for purposes of business."
+
+"Maybe; not for purposes of pleasure. Father, beautiful paintings and
+grand buildings are nothing to him; nothing at all; and music might be
+the tinkling of tin kettles for all the meaning he finds in it. Father,
+dear, do get me some customers!"
+
+"You are a silly girl, Dolly!" said her father, breaking away, and not
+very well pleased. Neither did he bring her customers. Those were not
+the days of photographs. Dolly took to painting little bits of views in
+Venice; here a palace; there a bridge over a canal; the pillars with
+the dragon and St. Theodore, the Place of St. Mark, bits of the Riva
+with boats; she finished up these little pictures with great care and
+delicacy of execution, and then employed Rupert to dispose of them in
+the stationers' and fancy shops. He had some difficulty at first in
+finding the right market for her wares; however, he finally succeeded;
+and Dolly could sell as many pictures as she could paint. True, not for
+a great price; they did not pay so well as likenesses; but Dolly took
+what she could get, feeling very uncertain of supplies for a time that
+was coming. Mr. Copley certainly was not flush with his money now; and
+she did not flatter herself that his ways were mending.
+
+Less and less did his wife and daughter see of his company.
+
+"Rupert," said Dolly doubtfully, one day, "do you know where my father
+goes, so much of the time?"
+
+"No," said Rupert; "that's just what I don't. But I can find out, easy."
+
+Dolly did not say, Do; she did not say anything; she stood pondering
+and anxious by the window. Neither did Rupert ask further; he acted.
+
+It came by degrees to be a pretty regular thing, that Mr. Copley spent
+the evening abroad, excused himself from going anywhere with his
+family, and when they did see him wore an uncertain, purposeless,
+vagrant sort of look and air. By degrees this began to strike even
+Mrs. Copley.
+
+"I wish you would just make up your mind to marry Mr. St. Leger!" she
+said almost weepingly one day. "Then all would go right. I believe it
+would make me well, to begin with; and it would bring your father right
+back to his old self."
+
+"How, mother?" Dolly said sadly.
+
+"It would give him spirit at once. It is because he is out of spirits
+that he does so." (Mrs. Copley did not explain herself.) "I know, if he
+were once sure of seeing you Mrs. St. Leger, all would come right.
+Lawrence would help him; he _could_ help him then."
+
+"Who would help me?"
+
+"Nonsense, Dolly! Who would help you choose your dresses and wear your
+diamonds; that is all the difficulty you would have. But all's going
+wrong!" said Mrs. Copley, sinking into tears; "and you are selfish,
+like everybody else, and think only of yourself."
+
+Dolly bore this in silence. It startled her, however, greatly, to find
+her own view of things held by her much less sharp-sighted mother. She
+pondered on what was best to do. Should she sit still and quietly see
+her father lost irretrievably in the bad habits which were creeping
+upon him? But what step could she take? She asked herself this question
+evening after evening.
+
+It was late one night, and Lawrence as well as her father had been out
+ever since dinner. Mrs. Copley, weary and dispirited, had gone to bed.
+Dolly stood at the window looking out, not to see how the moonlight
+sparkled on the water and glanced on the vessels, but in a hopeless
+sort of expectancy watching for her father to come. The stream of
+passers-by had grown thin, and was growing thinner.
+
+"Rupert," Dolly spoke after a long silence, "do you know where my
+father is?"
+
+"Can't say I do. I could give a pretty fair guess, though, if you asked
+me."
+
+"Could you take me to him?"
+
+"Take you to him!" exclaimed the young man, starting.
+
+"Can you find the way? Where is it?"
+
+"I've been there often enough," said Rupert.
+
+"What place is it?"
+
+"The queerest place you ever saw. Do you recollect Mr. St. Leger
+telling us once about wine-shops in Venice? You and he were talking"----
+
+"Yes, yes, I remember. Is it one of those? Not a cafe?"
+
+"Not a cafe at all; neither a cafe nor a trattoria. Just a wine-shop.
+Nothing in it but wine casks, and the mugs or jugs of white and blue
+crockery that they draw the wine into; it's the most ridiculous place
+altogether I ever was in. I haven't been in it now, that's a fact."
+
+"What were you there for so often, then?"
+
+"Well," said Rupert, "I was looking after things."
+
+"Drink wine and eat nothing!" said Dolly again. "Are there many people
+there?"
+
+"Well, you can eat if you have a mind to; there are folks enough to
+sell you things; though they don't belong to the establishment. They
+come in from the street, with ever so many sorts of things, directly
+they see a customer sit down; fish and oysters, and cakes and fruit.
+But the shop sells nothing but wine. Mr. St. Leger says that is good."
+
+"Not many people there?" Dolly asked again.
+
+"No; not unless at a busy time. There won't be many there now, I guess."
+
+"What makes you think my father is there?"
+
+"I've seen him there pretty often," Rupert said in a low voice.
+
+Dolly stood some minutes silent, thinking, and struggling with herself.
+When she turned to Rupert at the end of those minutes, her air was
+quite composed and her voice was clear and calm.
+
+"Can you take me there, Rupert? Can you find the way?"
+
+"I know it as well as the way to my mouth. You see, I didn't know but
+maybe--I couldn't tell what you might take a notion to want me to do;
+so I just practised, till I had got the ins and outs of the thing. And
+there are a good many ins and outs, I can tell you. But I know them."
+
+"Then we will go," said Dolly. "I'll be ready in two minutes."
+
+It was a brilliant moonlight night, as I said. Venice, the bride of the
+Adriatic, lay as if robed in silver for her wedding. The air was soft,
+late as the time of year was; Dolly had no need of any but a light wrap
+to protect her in her midnight expedition. Rupert called a gondola, and
+presently they were gliding along, as still as ghosts, under the shadow
+of bridges, past glistening palace fronts, again in the deep shade of a
+wall of buildings. Wherever the light struck it was like molten silver;
+facades and carvings stood sharply revealed; every beauty of the weird
+city seemed heightened and spiritualised; almost glorified; while the
+silence, the outward peace, gave still more the impression of a place
+fair-like and unreal. It was truly a wonderful sail, a marvellous
+passage through an enchanted city, never to be forgotten by either of
+the two young people; who went for some distance in a silence as if a
+spell were upon them too.
+
+At Dolly's age, with all its elasticity, some aspects of trouble are
+more overwhelming than in later years. When one has not measured life,
+not learned yet the relations and proportions of things, one imagines
+the whole earth darkened by the cloud which is but hiding the sun from
+the spot where our feet stand. And before one has seen what wonders
+Time can do, the ruin wrought by an avalanche or a flood seems
+irreparable. It is inconceivable, that the bare and torn rocks should
+be clothed again, the choking piles of rubbish ever be anything but
+dismal and unsightly, the stripped fields ever be green and
+flourishing, or the torn-up trees be ever replaced. Yet Time does it
+all. Come after a while to look again, and the traces of past
+devastation are not easy to find; nature's weaving has so covered, and
+nature's embroidery has so adorned, the bald places. In human life
+there is something like this often done; though, as I said, youth wots
+not of it and does not believe in it. So Dolly this night saw her
+little life a wilderness, which had been a garden of flowers. Some
+flowers might be lifting their heads yet, but what Dolly looked at was
+the destruction. Wrought by her own father's hand! I cannot tell how
+that thought stung and crushed Dolly. What would anything else in the
+world have mattered, so she could have kept him? help could have been
+found; but to lose _him_, her father, and not by death, but by change,
+by dishonour, by loss of his identity--Dolly felt indeed that a storm
+had come upon the little garden of her life from the sweeping ruin of
+which there could be no revival. She could hardly hold her head up for
+a long distance of that midnight sail; yet she did, and noted as they
+passed the fairy glories of the scene. Just noted them, to deepen, if
+possible, the pangs at her heart. All this beauty, all this outward
+delight, mocked the inner reality; and made sharp the sense of it with
+the contrast of what might have been. As they went along, Venice became
+to her fancy a grave and monument of lost things, which floated
+together in her mind's vision. Past struggles for freedom, beaten back
+or faded out; vanished patriotism and art, with their champions;
+extinct ambitions and powers; historical glories evaporated, as it
+were, leaving only a scent upon the air; what was left at Venice but
+monuments? and like it now her own little life gone out and gone down!
+For so it seemed to Dolly. Even if she succeeded in her mission, and
+brought her father home, what safety, what security could she have? And
+if she did _not_ bring him--then all was lost indeed. It was lost
+anyhow, she thought, as far as her own life was concerned. Her father
+could not be what he had been again. "O father! my father!" was poor
+Dolly's bitter cry, "if you had taken anything else from me, and only
+left me yourself!"
+
+After a long time, when she spoke to Rupert, it was in a quiet,
+unaltered voice.
+
+"Is this the shortest way, Rupert?"
+
+"As like as not it's the longest. But, you see, it's the only way I
+know. I've always got there starting from the Place of St. Mark; and
+that way I know what I am about; but though I daresay there's a short
+cut home, I've never been it, and don't know it."
+
+Dolly added no more.
+
+"It's a bit of a walk from St. Mark's," Rupert went on. "Do you mind?"
+
+"No," said Dolly, sighing. "Rupert, I wish you were a Christian friend!
+You are a good friend, but I wish you were a Christian!"
+
+"Why just now?"
+
+"Nobody else can give one comfort. You cannot, Rupert, with all the
+will in the world; there is no comfort in anything you could tell me. I
+have only one Christian friend on this side of the Atlantic; and that
+is Mrs. Jersey; and she might as well be in America too, where Aunt Hal
+is!"
+
+Dolly was crying. It went to Rupert's heart.
+
+"What could a Christian friend say to you?" he asked at length.
+
+"Remind me of something, or of some words, that I ought to remember,"
+said Dolly, still weeping.
+
+"Of what?" said Rupert. "If you know, tell me. Remind yourself; that's
+as good as having some one else remind you. What comfort is there in
+religion for a great trouble? Is there any?"
+
+"Yes," said Dolly.
+
+"What then? Tell us, Miss Dolly. I may want it some time, as well as
+you."
+
+"I suppose everybody is pretty sure to want it, some time in his life,"
+said Dolly sadly, but trying to wipe away her tears.
+
+"Let's have the comfort then," said Rupert, "if you've got it."
+
+"Why, are _you_ in trouble, Rupert?" she said, rousing up. "What about?"
+
+"Never mind; let's have the comfort; that's the thing wanted just now.
+What would you say to me now if I wanted it pretty bad?"
+
+"The trouble is, it is so hard to believe what God says," Dolly said,
+speaking half to herself and half to her companion.
+
+"What does He say? Is it anything a fellow can take hold of and hold on
+to? I never could make out much by what I've heard folks tell; and I
+never heard much anyhow, to begin with."
+
+"One of the things that are good to me," said Dolly, bowing her face on
+her hand, "is--that Jesus knows."
+
+"Knows what?"
+
+"All about it--everything--my trouble, and your trouble, if you have
+any."
+
+"I don't see the comfort in that. If He knows, why don't He hinder? I
+suppose He _can_ hinder?"
+
+"He does hinder whatever would be real harm to His people; He has
+promised that."
+
+"Well, ain't this real harm, that is worrying you?" said Rupert. "What
+do you call harm?"
+
+"Pain and trouble are not always harm," said Dolly, "for His children
+often have them, I know; and no trouble seems sweet at the minute, but
+bitter; and the sweet fruits come afterward. Oh, it's so bitter now!"
+cried poor Dolly, unable to keep the tears back again;--"but He knows.
+He knows."
+
+"If He knows," said Rupert, wholly unable to understand this reasoning,
+"why doesn't He hinder? That's what I look at."
+
+"I don't know," said Dolly faintly.
+
+"What comforts you in that, then?" said Rupert almost impatiently.
+"That's too big a mouthful for me."
+
+"No, you're wrong," said Dolly. "He knows why. I have the comfort of
+that, and so I am sure there _is_ a why. It is not all vague chance and
+confusion, with no hand to rule anything. Don't you see what a
+difference that makes?"
+
+"Do you mean to say, that everything that happens is for the best?"
+
+"No," said Dolly. "Wrong can never be as good as right. Only, Rupert,
+God will so manage things that to His children--to His children--good
+shall come out of evil, and nothing really hurt them."
+
+"Then the promise is only for them?"
+
+"That's all. How could it be for the others?"
+
+"I don't see it," said Rupert. "Seems to my eyes as if black was black
+and white white; it's the fault of my eyes, I s'pose. It is only
+moonshine to my eyes, that makes black white."
+
+"Rupert, you do not understand. I will tell you. You know the story of
+Joseph. Well, when his brothers tried to murder him, that was what you
+call evil, wasn't it?"
+
+"Black, and no moonshine on it."
+
+"Yet it led to his being sold into Egypt."
+
+"What was the moonshine on that? He was a slave, warn't he?"
+
+"But that brought him to be governor of Egypt; he was the means of the
+plenty in the land through those years of famine; and by his power and
+influence his family was placed in the best of the land when starvation
+drove them down there."
+
+"But why must he be sold a slave to begin with?"
+
+"Good reasons. As a servant of Potiphar he learned to know all about
+the land and its produce and its cultivation, and the peasant people
+that cultivated it. If it had not been for the knowledge he gained as a
+slave, Joseph could never have known what to do as a governor."
+
+"I never thought of that," said Rupert, his tone changing.
+
+"Then when he was thrown into prison, _you_ would have said that was a
+black experience too?"
+
+"I should, and no mistake."
+
+"And there, among the great prisoners of state, he learned to know
+about the politics of the country, and heard what he never could have
+heard talked about anywhere else; and there, by interpreting their
+dreams, he recommended himself to the high officers of Pharaoh. Except
+through the prison, it is impossible to see how he, a poor foreigner,
+could ever have come to be so distinguished at the king's court; for
+the Egyptians hated and despised foreigners."
+
+"I'll be whipped if that ain't a good sermon," said Rupert drily; "and
+what's more, I can understand it, which I can't most sermons I've
+heard. But look here,--do you think God takes the same sort of look-out
+for common folks? Joseph was Joseph."
+
+"The care comes of His goodness, not out of our worthiness," said
+Dolly, the tears dripping from her eyes. "To Him, Dolly is Dolly, and
+Rupert is Rupert, just as truly. I know it, and yet I am so ungrateful!"
+
+"But tell me, then," Rupert went on, "how comes it that God, who can do
+everything, does not make people good right off? Half the trouble in
+the world comes of folks' wrong-headedness; why don't He make 'em
+reasonable?"
+
+"He tries to make them reasonable."
+
+"_Tries!_ Why don't He do it?"
+
+"You, for instance," said Dolly--"because He has given you the power of
+choice, Rupert; and you know yourself that obedience would not be
+obedience if it were not voluntary."
+
+On this theological nut Rupert ruminated, without finding anything to
+say.
+
+"You have comforted me," Dolly went on presently. "Thank you, Rupert.
+You have made me remember what I had forgotten. Just look at that
+palace front in the moonlight!"
+
+"The world's a queer place, though," said Rupert, not heeding the
+palace front.
+
+"What are you thinking of?"
+
+"This city, for one thing. I've been, reading that book you lent me.
+Hasn't there been confusion enough, though, up and down these canals,
+and in and out of those palaces! and the rest of the world is pretty
+much in the same way. Only in America it ain't quite so bad. I suppose
+because we haven't had time enough."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+THE WINE-SHOP.
+
+It was past twelve by the clock tower when the two left the gondola and
+entered the Place of St. Mark. The old church with its cupolas, the
+open Place, the pillars with St. Theodore and the dragon, the palace of
+the Doges with its open stone work, showed like a scene out of another
+world; so unearthly beautiful, so weird and so stately. There had been
+that day some festival or public occasion which had called the
+multitude together, and lingerers were still to be seen here and there,
+and the windows of cafes and trattorie were lighted, and the buzz of
+voices came from them. Dolly and Rupert crossed the square, however,
+without more than a moment's lingering, and plunged presently into what
+seemed to her a labyrinth of confused ways. Such ways! an alley in New
+York would be broad in comparison; two women in hoops would have been
+obliged to use some skill to pass each other; they threaded the old
+city in the strangest manner. Rupert went steadily and without
+hesitation, Dolly wondered how he could, through one into another, up
+and down, over bridge after bridge, clearly knowing his way; yet it was
+a nervous walk to her, for more than one reason. Sometimes the whole
+line of one of these narrow streets, if they could be called so, would
+be perfectly dark; the moonlight not getting into it, and only
+glittering on a palace cornice or a street corner in view; others,
+lying right for the moonbeams, were flooded with them from one turning
+to another. Most of the shops were closed; but the sellers of fruit had
+not shut up their windows yet, and now and then a cook-shop made a most
+peculiar picture, with its blazing fire at the back, and its dishes of
+cooked and uncooked viands temptingly displayed at the street front.
+Steadily and swiftly Rupert and Dolly passed on; saw these things
+without stopping to look at them, but yet saw them so that in all
+after-life those peculiar effects of light and shade, fireshine and
+moonlight, Italian fruits and vegetables, and fish coloured by the one
+or the other illumination, were never lost from memory. Here there
+would be a red Vulcanic glow in the interior of a shop where the
+furnace fire was flaming up about the pots and pans of cookery; and at
+the street front, at the window, the moonlight glinting white from the
+edge of a dish, or glancing from a pane of glass; and then again
+reflected from the still waters of a canal. The two saw these things,
+and never forgot; but Dolly was silent and Rupert did not know what to
+say. Yet he thought he felt her arm tremble sometimes, and would have
+given a great deal to be able to speak to the purpose. Perhaps Dolly at
+length found the need of distraction to her thoughts, for she it was
+that first said anything.
+
+"I hope mother will not wake up!"
+
+"Why?"
+
+"She would not understand my being away."
+
+"Then she does not know?"
+
+"I did not dare tell her. I had to risk it. I do not want her ever to
+know, Rupert, if it can be helped."
+
+"She'll be no wiser for me. What are you going to do now, Miss Dolly?
+We ain't far off the place."
+
+"I am going to get my father to go home with me. You needn't come in.
+Better not. You go back to the gondola and wait there for a little
+say--a quarter or half an hour; if I do not come before that, then go
+on home."
+
+"But you cannot go anywhere alone?"
+
+"Oh no; I shall have father; but I cannot tell which way he may take to
+get home. You go back to the gondola,--or no, be in front of St.
+Mark's; that would be better."
+
+"I am afraid to leave you, Miss Dolly."
+
+"You need not. One gets to places where there is nothing to fear any
+more."
+
+Rupert was not sure what she meant; her voice had a peculiar cadence
+which struck him. Then they turned another corner, and a few steps
+ahead of them saw the light from a window making a strip of
+illumination across the street, which here was unvisited by the
+moonbeams.
+
+"That is the place," said Rupert.
+
+Dolly slackened her walk, and the next minute paused before the window
+and looked in. The light was not brilliant, yet sufficient to show
+several men within, some sitting and drinking, some in attendance; and
+Dolly easily recognised one among the former number. She drew her arm
+from Rupert's.
+
+"Now go back to St. Mark's," she whispered. "I wish it. Yes, I would
+rather go in alone. Wait for me a little while in front of St. Mark's."
+
+She stood still yet half a minute, making her observations or getting
+up her resolution; then with a light, swift step passed into the shop.
+Rupert could not obey her and go at once; he felt he must see what she
+did and what her reception promised to be; he came a little nearer to
+the window and gazed anxiously in. The minutes he stood there burned
+the scene for ever into his memory.
+
+The light shone in a wide, spacious apartment, which it but gloomily
+revealed. There was nothing whatever of the outward attractions with
+which in New York or London a drinking saloon, not of a low order,
+would have been made pleasant and inviting. The wine had need to be
+good, thought Rupert, when men would come to such a place as this and
+spend time there, simply for the pleasure of drinking it. Yet several
+men were there, taking that pleasure, even so late as the hour was; and
+they were respectable men, at least if their dress could be taken in
+testimony. They sat with mugs and glasses before them; one had a plate
+of olives also, another had some other tit-bit or provocative; one
+seemed to be in converse with Mr. Copley, who was not beyond converse
+yet, though Rupert saw he had been some time drinking. His face was
+flushed a little, his eyes dull, his features overspread with that
+inane stupidity which comes from long-continued and purely sensual
+indulgence of any kind, especially under the fumes of wine. To the side
+of this man, Rupert saw Dolly go. She went in, as I said, with a light,
+quick step, looked at nobody else, made straight to her father, and
+laid a hand upon his shoulder. With that she threw back her
+head-covering a little,--it was some sort of a scarf, of white and
+brown worsted knitting, which lay around her head like a glory, in
+Rupert's eyes,--and showed her face to her father. Fair and delicate
+and sweet, bright and grave at once, for she _did_ look bright even
+there, she stood at his side like his good angel, with her little hand
+upon his shoulder. No wonder Mr. Copley started and looked frightened;
+that was the first look; and then confused. Rupert understood it all,
+though he could not hear what was said. He saw the man was embarrassed.
+
+"Dolly!" said Mr. Copley, falling back upon his first thought, as the
+easiest to speak of,--"what is the matter?"
+
+"Nothing with me, father. Will you take me home?"
+
+"Where's your mother?"
+
+"She is at home. But it is pretty late, father."
+
+"Where's Lawrence?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Where is Rupert, then?"
+
+"He is out, somewhere. Will you go home with me, father?"
+
+"How did you come here?" said Mr. Copley, sitting a little straighter
+up, and now beginning to replace or conceal confusion with displeasure.
+
+"I will tell you. I will tell you on the way. But shall we go first,
+father? I don't like to stay here."
+
+"Here? What in the name of ten thousand devils---- Who brought you
+here?"
+
+"I am alone," said Dolly. "Hadn't we better go, father? and then we can
+talk as we go."
+
+At this point a half tipsy Venetian rose, and stepping before the pair
+with a low reverence, said something to Mr. Copley, of which Dolly only
+understood the words, "La bella signorina;" they made her, however,
+draw her scarf forward over her face and brought Mr. Copley to his
+feet. He could stand, she saw, but whether he could walk very well was
+open to question.
+
+"Signer, signor"---- he began, stammering and incensed. Dolly seized
+his arm.
+
+"Shall we go, father? It is so late, and mother might want me. It is
+very late, father. Never mind anything, but come!"
+
+Mr. Copley was sufficiently himself to see the necessity; nevertheless,
+his score must be paid; and his head was in a bad condition for
+reckoning. He brought out some silver from his pocket, and stood
+somewhat helplessly looking at it and at the shopman alternately; then
+with an awkward movement of his elbow contrived to throw over a glass,
+which fell on the floor and broke. Everybody was looking now at the
+father and daughter, and words came to Dolly's ears which made her
+cheek burn. But she stood calm, self-possessed, waiting with a somewhat
+lofty air of maidenly dignity; helped her father solve the reckoning,
+paid for the glass, and at last got hold of his arm and drew him away;
+after a gentle, grave salutation to the attendant which he answered
+profoundly, and which brought everybody in the little shop to his feet
+in involuntary admiration and respect. Dolly looked at nobody, yet with
+sweet courtesy made a distant sign of acknowledgment to their homage,
+and the next minute stood outside the shop in the dark little street
+and the mild, still air. I think, even at that minute, with the
+strange, startling inappropriateness of license which thoughts give
+themselves, there flashed across her a sense of the ironical contrast
+of things without and within her; without, Venice and her historical
+past and her monumental glory; within, a trembling little heart and
+present danger and a burden of dishonour. But that was only a flash;
+the needs of the minute banished all thinking that was not connected
+with action; and the moment's business was to get her father home. She
+had no thought now for the picturesque revealings of the moonlight and
+obscurings of the shadow. Yet she was conscious of them, in that sharp
+flash of contrast.
+
+At getting upon his feet and out into the air and gloom of the little
+street, Mr. Copley's head was very contused; or else he had taken more
+wine than his daughter guessed. He was not fit to guide himself, or to
+take care of her. As he seemed utterly at a standstill, Dolly naturally
+and unconsciously set her face to go the way she had come; for one or
+two turnings at least she was sure of it. Before those one or two
+turnings were made, however, she was shocked and scared to find that
+her father's walk was wavering; he swayed a little on his feet. The
+street was empty; and if it had not been, what help could Dolly ask
+for? A pang of great terror shot through her. She took her father's
+arm, to endeavour to hold him fast; a task rather too much for her
+little hands and slight frame; and feeling that in spite of her he
+still moved unsteadily, and that she was an insufficient help, Dolly's
+anguish broke forth in a cry; natural enough in its unreasoningness--
+
+"O father, don't!--remember, I am all alone!"
+
+How much was in the tone of those last words Dolly could not know; they
+hardly reached Mr. Copley's sense, though they went through and through
+another hearer. The next minute Rupert stood before the pair, and was
+offering his arm to Mr. Copley. Not trusting his patron, in the
+circumstances, to take care of his young mistress, Rupert had disobeyed
+her orders so far as to keep the two figures in sight; he had watched
+them from one turning to another, and had seen that his help was
+needed, even before he heard Dolly's cry. Then, with a spring, he was
+there. Mr. Copley leaned now upon his arm, and Dolly fell behind,
+thankful unspeakably for the relief. She knew by this time that she
+could never have found her way; and it was plain her father could not.
+
+"Rupert," said Mr. Copley, half recognising the assistance afforded
+him, "you're a good fellow, and always in the way when you aren't
+wanted, by George!" But he leaned on his arm heavily.
+
+Dolly followed close; she could not well keep beside them; and felt in
+that hour more thoroughly lonely perhaps than at any other of her life
+before or after. Rupert was a relief; and yet so the shame was
+increased. She stepped along through moonlight and shadow, feeling that
+light was gone out of her pathway of life for ever, as far as this
+world was concerned. What was left, when her father was lost to
+her?--her father!--and not by death; _that_ would not have been to lose
+him utterly; but now his very identity was gone. Her father, whom all
+her life she had loved; manly, frank, able, active, taking the lead in
+every society where she had seen him, making other men do his bidding
+always, until the passion of gaining and the lust of drink got hold of
+him! Was it the same, that figure in front of her, leaning on
+somebody's arm and glad to lean, and going with lame, unsteady gait
+whither he was led, so like the way his mental course had been lately?
+Was that her father? The bitterness of Dolly's feeling it is impossible
+to put into words. Tears could bring no relief, and nature did not
+summon them to the impossible service. The fire at her heart would have
+burnt them up; for there was a strange passion of resistance and sense
+of wrong mixed with Dolly's bitter pain. The way was not short, and it
+seemed threefold the length it was; every step was so hard, and the
+crowd of thoughts was so disproportionately great.
+
+They were rather ruminating thoughts of grief and pain, than
+considerative of what was to be done. For the first, the thing was to
+get Mr. Copley home. Dolly did not look beyond that. She was glad to
+find herself arrived at St. Mark's again; and presently they were all
+three in the gondola. Mr. Copley leaned in a corner, laid his head
+against a cushion, and slept, or seemed to sleep. The other two were as
+silent; but I think both felt at the moment as if they would never
+sleep again. Rupert's face was in shadow; he watched Dolly's face which
+was in light. She forgot it could be watched; her eyes stared into the
+moonshine, not seeing it, or looking through it; the sweet face was so
+very grave that the watcher felt his heart ache. Not the gentle gravity
+of young maidenhood, looking into the vague light; but the anxious,
+searching gaze of older life looking into the vague darkness. Rupert
+did not dare speak to her, though he longed. What would he not have
+given for the right and the power to comfort! But he knew he had
+neither. He had sense enough not to try.
+
+It was customary for Mr. Copley, after he had been late out at night,
+to keep to his room until a late hour the next morning; so Dolly knew
+what she had to expect. It suited her very well this time, for she must
+think what she would say to her father when she next saw him. She took
+care that a cup of coffee such as he liked was sent him; and then,
+after her own slight breakfast, sat down to plan her movements. So
+Rupert found her, with her Bible in her lap, but not reading; sitting
+gazing out upon the bright waters of the lagoon. He came up to her,
+with a depth of understanding and sympathy in his plain features which
+greatly dignified them.
+
+"Does that help?" said he, glancing at the book in Dolly's lap.
+
+"_This?_" said Dolly. "What other help in the world is there?"
+
+"Friends?" suggested Rupert.
+
+"Yes, you were a great help last night," Dolly said slowly. "But there
+come times--and things--when friends cannot do anything."
+
+"And then--what does the book do?"
+
+"The book?" Dolly repeated again. "O Rupert! it tells of the Friend
+that can do everything!" Her eyes flushed with tears and she clasped
+her hands as she spoke.
+
+"What?" said Rupert; for her action was eloquent, and he was curious;
+and besides he liked to make her talk.
+
+Dolly looked at him and saw that the question was serious. She opened
+her book.
+
+"Listen. 'Let your conversation be without covetousness; and be content
+with such things as ye have; for He hath said, I will never leave thee
+nor forsake thee. So that we may boldly say, The Lord is my helper, and
+I will not fear what man shall do unto me.'"
+
+"That makes pretty close work of it. Can you get hold of that rope? and
+how much strain will it bear?"
+
+"I believe it will bear anything," said Dolly slowly and thoughtfully;
+"if one takes hold with both hands. I guess the trouble with me is,
+that I only take hold with one."
+
+"What do you do with the other hand?"
+
+"Stretch it out towards something else, I suppose. For, see here,
+Rupert;--'Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on
+Thee; because he trusteth in Thee.'--I am just ashamed of myself!" said
+Dolly, breaking down and bursting into tears.
+
+"What for?" said Rupert.
+
+"Because I do not trust so."
+
+"I should think it would be very difficult."
+
+"It ought not to be difficult to trust a friend whose truth you know.
+There! that has done me good," said the girl, sitting up and brushing
+away the tears. "Rupert, if there is anything you want to see or to do
+here in Venice, be about it; for I think we shall go off to Rome at
+once."
+
+She told the same thing to St. Leger when he came in; and having got
+rid of both the young men set herself anew to consider how she should
+speak to her father. And consideration helped nothing; she could not
+tell; she had to leave it to the moment to decide.
+
+It was late in the morning, later than the usual hour for the dejeuner
+a la fourchette, which Mr. Copley liked. He did not want anything
+to-day, his wife said; and she and Dolly and Rupert had finished their
+meal. Dolly contrived then that her mother should go out under Rupert's
+convoy, to visit the curiosity shop again, (nothing else would have
+tempted her), and to make one or two little purchases for which Dolly
+gave Rupert the means. When they were fairly off, she went to her
+father's room; he was up and dressed, she knew. She went with a very
+faint heart, not knowing in the least what she would do or say, but
+feeling that something must be said and done, both.
+
+Mr. Copley was sitting listlessly in a chair by the window; miserable
+enough, Dolly could see by the gloomy blank of his face; looking out,
+and caring for nothing that he saw. His features showed traces of the
+evening before, in red eyes and pale cheeks; and yet worse, in the
+spiritless, abased expression, which was more than Dolly could bear.
+She had come in very quietly, but when she saw this she made one spring
+to his side and sank down on the floor before him, hiding her face on
+his knee. Mr. Copley's trembling hand presently lifted her up into his
+arms, and Dolly sat on his knee and buried her face in his breast.
+Neither of them was ready to speak; neither did speak for some time. It
+was Mr. Copley who began.
+
+"Well, Dolly,--I suppose you will say to me that I have broken my word?"
+
+"O father!"--it came in a sort of despair from Dolly's heart,--"what
+shall we do?"
+
+Mr. Copley had certainly no answer ready to this question; and his next
+words were a departure.
+
+"How came you to be at that place last night?"
+
+"I was afraid you were there"----
+
+"How did you dare come poking about through all those crooked ways, and
+at that time of night?"
+
+"Father," Dolly said, without lifting her head, "that was nothing. I
+dared nothing, compared with what you dared!"
+
+"I? You are mistaken, child. I did not run the slightest risk. In fact,
+I was only doing what everybody else does. You make much of nothing, in
+your inexperience."
+
+"Father," said Dolly, with a great effort, "you promised me. And when a
+man cannot keep his promise"----
+
+She had meant to be perfectly quiet; she had begun very calmly; but at
+that word, suddenly, her calmness failed her. It was too much; and with
+a sort of wailing cry, which in its forlornness reached and wrung even
+Mr. Copley's nerves, she broke into a terrible passion of weeping.
+Terrible! young hearts ought never to know such an agony; and never,
+never should such an agony be known for the shame or even the weakness
+of a father. The hand appointed to shield, the love which ought to
+shelter,--when the blow comes from _that_ quarter, it finds the heart
+bare and defenceless indeed, and comes so much the harder in that it
+comes from so near. No other more distant can give such a stroke. And
+to the young heart, unaccustomed to sorrow, new to life, not knowing
+how many its burdens and how heavy; not knowing on the other hand the
+equalising, tempering effects of time; the first great pain comes
+crushing. The shoulders are not adjusted to the burden, and they feel
+as if they must break. Dolly's sobs were so convulsive and racking that
+her father was startled and shocked. What had he done? Alas, the man
+never knows what he has done; he cannot understand how women die,
+before their time, that death of the heart which is out of the range of
+masculine nature.
+
+"Dolly!--Dolly!" Mr. Copley cried, "what is the matter? Don't, Dolly,
+if you love me. My child, what have I done? Don't you know _everybody_
+takes a little wine? Are you wiser than all the world?"
+
+"You promised, father!" Dolly managed to say.
+
+"Perhaps I promised too much. You see, Dolly,--_don't_ cry so!--a man
+must do as the rest of the world do. It isn't possible to live a
+separate life, as you would have me. It would make me ridiculous. It
+would not do. There's no harm in a little wine, child."
+
+"Father, you promised!" Dolly repeated, clinging to him. She was not
+shrinking away; her arms of love were wrapped round his neck as
+tenderly as even in old childish days; they had power over Mr. Copley,
+power which he could not quite resist nor break away from. He returned
+their pressure, he even kissed her, feeling, I am happy to say, a
+little ashamed of himself.
+
+"You don't want me to be ridiculous, Dolly?" he repeated, not knowing
+what to say.
+
+What should she answer to that? No, she did not want him to be
+ridiculous; and as he spoke she recalled the staggering, impotent
+figure of last night, in its unmanly feebleness and senseless idiocy. A
+sense of the difficulty of her task and the vanity of her
+representations came over Dolly; it gave her new food for tears, but
+the present effect was to make her stop them. I suppose despair does
+not weep. Dolly was not despairing, either.
+
+"What shall we do, father?" she asked, ignoring all his remarks and
+suggestions.
+
+"Do, Dolly? About what?"
+
+"Don't you think we will not stay any longer in Venice?"
+
+"For all I care! Where, then?"
+
+"To Rome, father?"
+
+"I thought you were to be in Rome at Christmas?"
+
+"It is not so very long till Christmas."
+
+"Is your mother agreed?"
+
+"She will be, if you say so."
+
+"If it pleases you, Dolly--I don't care."
+
+"And, father, dear father! won't you keep your promise to me? What is
+to become of us, father?"
+
+Some bitter tears flowed again as she said this quietly; but Mr. Copley
+knew they were flowing, and he had an intuitive sense that they were
+bitter. They embarrassed him.
+
+"I'll make a bargain, Dolly," he said after a pause. "I'll do what you
+want of me--anything you want--if you'll marry St. Leger."
+
+"But, father, I have not made up my mind to like him enough for that."
+
+"You will like him well enough. If you were to marry him you would be
+devoted to him. I know you."
+
+"I think the devotion ought to come first."
+
+"Nonsense. That is romantic folly. Novels are one thing, and real life
+is another."
+
+"I daresay; but do you object to people's being a little romantic?"
+
+"When it interferes with their bread and butter, I do."
+
+"Father, if you would drink no wine, we could all of us have as much
+bread and butter as we choose."
+
+"You are always harping on that!" said Mr. Copley, frowning.
+
+"Because, our whole life depends on it, father. You cannot bear wine as
+some people can, I suppose; the habit is growing on you; mother and I
+are losing you, we do not even have but half a sight of you;
+and--father--we are wanting necessaries. But I do not think of _that_,"
+Dolly went on eagerly; "I do not care; I am willing to live on dry
+bread, and work for the means to get it; but I cannot bear to lose you,
+father! I cannot bear it!--and it will kill mother. She does not know;
+I have kept her from knowing; she knows nothing about what happened
+last night. O father, do not let her know! Would anything pay you for
+breaking her heart and mine? Is wine more to you than we are? O father,
+father! let us go home to America, and quit all these people and
+associations that make it so hard for you to be yourself. I want you to
+be your dear old self, father! Your dear self, that I love"----
+
+Dolly's voice was choked, and she sobbed. Mr. Copley was not quite
+insensible. He was silent a good while, hearing her sobs, and then he
+groaned; a groan partly of real feeling, partly, I am afraid, of desire
+to have the scene ended; the embarrassment and the difficulty disposed
+of and behind him. But he thought it had been an expression of deeper
+feeling solely.
+
+"I'll do anything you like, my dear child," he said. "Only stop crying.
+You break my heart."
+
+"Father, will you really do something if I ask you?"
+
+"Anything! Only stop crying so."
+
+"Then, father, write and sign it, that you will not ever touch wine.
+Rupert and I have taken such a pledge already."
+
+"What is the use of writing and signing? I don't see. A man can let it
+alone without that."
+
+"He can, if he wants to let it alone; but if he is very much tempted,
+then the pledge is a help."
+
+"What did you and Rupert do such a thing as that for?"
+
+"I wanted to save him."
+
+"Make _him_ take the pledge, then. Why you?"
+
+"How could I ask him to do what I would not do myself? But I've done
+it, father; now will you join us?"
+
+"Pshaw!" said Mr. Copley, displeased. "Now you have incapacitated
+yourself from appearing as others do in society. How would you refuse,
+if you were asked to drink wine with somebody at a dinner-table?"
+
+"Very easily. I should think all women would refuse," said Dolly.
+"Father, will you join us, and let us all be unfashionable and happy
+together?"
+
+"Did St. Leger pledge himself?"
+
+"I have not asked him."
+
+"Well, I will if he will."
+
+"For him, father, and not for me?" said Dolly.
+
+"Ask him," said Mr. Copley. "I'll do as he does."
+
+"Father, you might set an example to him."
+
+"I'll let him set the example for me," said Mr. Copley rising. And
+Dolly could get no further.
+
+But it was settled that they were to leave Venice. What was to be
+gained by this step Dolly did not quite know; yet it was a step, that
+was something. It was something, too, to get out of the neighbourhood
+of that wine-shop, of which Dolly thought with horror. What might await
+them in Rome she did not know; at least the bonds of habit in
+connection with a particular locality would be broken. And Venice was
+grown odious to her.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+PAST GREATNESS.
+
+They went to Rome.
+
+Dolly had little comfort from her conversation with her father. She
+turned over in her mind his offer to quit wine if St. Leger would do
+the same. St. Leger would not give any such pledge, Dolly was very
+clearly aware; except, indeed, she paid him for it with another pledge
+on her part. With such a bribe she believed he would do it, or anything
+else that might be asked of him. Smooth and quiet as the young
+gentleman was outwardly, he had a power of self-will; as was shown by
+his persistence in following her. Dolly was obliged to confess that his
+passion was true and strong. If she would have him, no doubt, at least
+she believed there was no doubt, Lawrence would agree to be
+unfashionable and drink no more wine to the day of his death for her
+sake. If he agreed to that, her father would agree to it; both of them
+would be saved from that danger. Dolly pondered. Ought she to pay the
+price? Should she sacrifice herself, and be the wife of a rich banker,
+and therewith keep her father and all of them from ruin? Very soberly
+Dolly turned the whole thing over in her mind; back and forward; and
+always she was certain on one point,--that she did not want to be
+Lawrence's wife; and to her simple, childlike perceptions another thing
+also seemed clear; that it is a bad way to escape one wrong by doing
+another. She always brought up with that. And so, she could not venture
+and did not venture to attack Lawrence on the wine question. She knew
+it would be in vain.
+
+Meanwhile, they were in Rome. Two of the gentlemen being skilled
+travellers, they had presently secured a very tolerable apartment; not
+in the best situation, indeed, but so neither was it of the most
+expensive sort; and clubbing their resources, were arranged comfortably
+enough to feel quite at home. And immediately Dolly began to use her
+advantage and see Rome. Mrs. Copley had no curiosity to see anything;
+all her wish was to sit at her window or by her fire and talk to her
+husband; and as Mr. Copley shared her lack of enterprise and something
+withheld him from seeking either gambling or drinking-shops, Dolly
+could go out with an easy mind, and give herself undividedly to the
+intense enjoyment of the place and the time. Yes, undividedly; for she
+was eighteen, and at eighteen one has a power of, for a time, throwing
+off trouble. Trouble was on her, she knew; and, nevertheless, when
+Dolly found herself in the streets of Rome, or in presence of its
+wonders of art or marvels of antiquity, she and trouble parted company.
+She forgot all but the present; or even if she did not forget, she
+disregarded. Her spirit took a momentary leap above all that ordinarily
+held it down, and revelled, and rejoiced, and expanded, and rose into a
+region of pure exquisite life. Rupert, who always accompanied her, was
+rather opening the eyes of his mind, and opening them very wide indeed,
+and as is the case with eyes newly opened, not seeing very clearly; yet
+taking great pleasure in what he did see. St. Leger, her other
+companion, had a certain delight in seeing Dolly's enjoyment; for
+himself, alas! it was too plain that art said little to him, and
+antiquity nothing.
+
+One afternoon, when they had been perhaps a week in Rome, Dolly
+declared her intention of taking Rupert to the Museo Capitolino.
+
+"You were there the day before yesterday," St. Leger remarked, rousing
+himself from a comfortable position and a magazine.
+
+"Yes, thank you; and now I am going to do for Mr. Babbage what you did
+for me; introduce him to a scene of delights. You know, one should
+always pass on a good thing that one has received."
+
+"Don't you want me?"
+
+"No, indeed! I wouldn't bore you to that extent."
+
+"But you will allow me, for my own pleasure," said Lawrence, getting up.
+
+"No, I will not. You have done your part, as far as that museum is
+concerned; and besides, I have heard that a lady must not dance too
+many dances with one gentleman. It is Mr. Babbage's turn."
+
+And with a merry little nod of her head, and smile at the irresolute
+St. Leger, Dolly went off. Rupert was generally of the party when they
+went sight-seeing, but it had happened that it was not the case when
+the visit to the Capitoline Museum had been made.
+
+"You are not going to this place for my sake?" Rupert said as Dolly
+hurried along.
+
+"For your sake, and for my sake," she answered. "I was there for about
+two minutes, and I should like two days. O Rome, Rome! I _never_ saw
+anything like Rome."
+
+"Why?" said Rupert. "It hasn't got hold of me so."
+
+"Wait, and it will. I seem to be touching the history of the world
+here, till I don't know whereabouts in the ages I am. Is this the
+nineteenth century?--Here we are."
+
+Half an hour later, the two found themselves in the Hall of the
+Emperors.
+
+"Do you know Roman history, Rupert?"
+
+"A little. Not much. Not far down, you see. I know about Romulus and
+Remus."
+
+"Then you know more than anybody else knows. That's a myth. Look here.
+Let us begin at the beginning. Do you know this personage?"
+
+"Julius Caesar? Yes. I have read about him."
+
+"Did you ever read Plutarch's Lives? They used to be my delight when I
+was a little girl. I was very fond of Julius Caesar then. I know better
+now. But I am glad to see him."
+
+"Why, wasn't he a great man?"
+
+"Very. So the world says. I have come to perceive, Rupert, that that
+don't mean much."
+
+"Why not? I thought the world was apt to be right."
+
+"In some things. No doubt this man _might_ have been a very great man;
+he had power; but what good did he do to the world? He just worked for
+himself. I tell you what the Bible says, Rupert; 'The things which are
+highly esteemed among men, are abomination in the sight of God.' Look,
+and you will see it is so."
+
+"If you go by _that_---- Who is this next man? Augustus. He was the
+first Roman emperor, wasn't he?"
+
+"And all around here are ranged his successors. What a set they were!
+and they look like it."
+
+"How do you know they are likenesses?"
+
+"Know from coins. Do you know, almost all these men, the emperors, died
+a violent death? Murdered, or else they killed themselves. That speaks,
+don't it, for the beauty and beneficence of their reigns, and the
+loveliness of their characters?"
+
+"I don't know them very well. Some of them were good men, weren't they?"
+
+"See here, Nos. 11 and 12. Here are Caligula and Claudius. Caligula was
+murdered. Then Claudius was poisoned by his wife Agrippina; there she
+is, No. 14. She was killed by her son Nero; and Nero killed himself;
+and No. 13, there is another wife of Claudius whom he killed before he
+married Agrippina; and here, No. 17, was a wife of Nero whom he killed
+by a kick. And that is the way, my dear Rupert, they went on. Don't you
+wish you had belonged to the Imperial family? There's greatness for
+you!"
+
+"But there were some really great ones, weren't there? Which are they?"
+
+"Well, let us see. Come on. Here is Trajan. He was not a brute; he was
+a philosopher and a sceptic. He was quite a distinguished man in the
+arts of war and peace. But he ordered that the profession of
+Christianity should be punished with death. He legalised all succeeding
+persecutions, by his calm enactments. Do you think he was a great man
+in the sight of God?"
+
+"Were the Christians persecuted in his reign?"
+
+"Certainly. In Asia Minor, under the good governor Pliny. Simon the son
+of Cleophas was crucified at that time."
+
+"Perhaps Trajan did not know any better."
+
+"He might have known better, though. Ignorance is no plea that will
+stand, when people have the means of knowledge. But come on. Here is
+Marcus Aurelius; here, Rupert, Nos. 37 and 38. He was what the world
+calls a very great man. He was cultivated, and wise, and strong, a
+great governor, and for a heathen a good man; and how he treated the
+Christians! East and west, and at Rome here itself, how they were
+sought out and tortured and killed! What do you think the Lord thinks
+of such a great man as that? Remember the Bible says of His people, 'He
+that toucheth you, toucheth the apple of His eye.' What do you think
+the Lord thought of Marcus Aurelius' greatness? Look here, Rupert--here
+is Decius, and here is Diocletian."
+
+"Were they persecutors too?"
+
+"Great. It is so strange to look at their faces here, in this museum,
+after so many centuries. I suppose they will stand here, maybe, till
+the end of the world. Come away--we have been so long in this gallery
+we have not left time enough for the other rooms."
+
+They went to the Hall of the Gladiator; and there Dolly studied the
+figure which gives name to the place, with a kind of rapt intensity.
+She described to her companion the meaning of the marble; but it was
+not the same thing to them both. Dolly was lost in delighted
+contemplation. Rupert looked on with a kind of incredulous scorn.
+
+"You don't care for it?" she said suddenly, catching a sight of his
+face.
+
+"What's it good for?" said Rupert. "This ain't a likeness of anybody,
+is it?"
+
+"It is a likeness of a great many people. Hundreds and hundreds died in
+such fashion as that, for the pleasure of the Roman people."
+
+"Well, would it have been any satisfaction to you to see it?"
+
+"Why, no! I hope not."
+
+"Then why do you like to see it here now?"
+
+"I don't! this is not reality, but an image."
+
+"I can't see why you should like to look at the image, when you
+couldn't bear the reality."
+
+"Why, Rupert"---- Dolly began, but her further words were cut off.
+
+"Met again!" said a soft voice. "You here! we did not know you would be
+in Rome so soon."
+
+"Dolly!" exclaimed Christina, who followed her mother. "That's
+delightful. Dolly Copley in Rome! and in the Museo Capitolino. Who is
+with you?"
+
+"We are all here," said Dolly, smiling.
+
+"Yes, yes, in Rome, of course; but you are not in the museum alone?"
+
+Dolly presented Mr. Babbage.
+
+"And how is your mother?" Mrs. Thayer went on. "Better! I am so glad. I
+thought she would be better in Italy. And what have you done with your
+handsome _cavaliero servente_--Mr. St. Leger?"
+
+"I left him at home with a magazine, in which I _think_ there was a
+story," said Dolly.
+
+"Impossible! his gallantry allowed you to come alone?"
+
+"Not his gallantry, but perhaps his sense of weakness," Dolly answered.
+
+"Of weakness, my dear? Is he a weak young man? He does not look it."
+
+"Very good muscular power, I daresay; but when we talk of power of
+will, you know 'weakness' is relative. I forbade him, and he did not
+dare to come."
+
+"You forbade him! and he obeyed? But, Christina, I do not think you
+have Mr. Shubrick in such training as that. Would he obey, if you gave
+him orders?"
+
+"Probably the relations are different," said Dolly, obliging herself to
+keep a grave face. "I am in a happy independence of Mr. St. Leger which
+allows me to command him."
+
+"Independence!" said Mrs. Thayer, with an air half curious, half
+confounded, which was a severe trial to Dolly's risible muscles. "I
+know young ladies are very independent in these days--I don't know
+whether it is a change for the better or not--but I do not think
+Christina would boast of her independence of _her_ knight-errant."
+
+"No," said Dolly. "The cases are different--as I said. Mr. St. Leger
+does not stand in that particular relation to me."
+
+"Doesn't he? But, my dear, I hope you haven't quarrelled?"
+
+"Not at all," said Dolly. "We do not like each other well enough to
+quarrel."
+
+"But he struck me as a most delightful young man."
+
+"I believe he generally makes that impression."
+
+"I used to know his father," said Mrs. Thayer. "He was a sad flirt. I
+know, you see, my dear, because I was one myself. I am glad Christina
+does not take after me. But I used to think it was great fun. Is Mr.
+St. Leger anything of a flirt?"
+
+"I have had no opportunity of knowing, ma'am," said Dolly gravely.
+
+"Well, you will bring him to see us? You are all coming to make us a
+visit at our villa, at Sorrento; and Mr. Shubrick is coming; Christina
+wants to show him to you; you know a girl is always proud of her
+conquests; and then we will go everywhere and make you see everything.
+You have just no notion how delightful it is at Sorrento in the spring
+and summer. It's Paradise!"
+
+"But you are coming first to spend Christmas with me, Dolly," said her
+friend, who until now had hardly been able to get in a word. "I have
+five thousand things to talk to you about. My sailor friend has
+promised to be here too, if he can, and his ship is in the
+Mediterranean somewhere, so I guess he can; and I want you to see him.
+Come and spend Christmas Eve with me--do! and then we shall have a
+chance to talk before he comes. Of course there would be no chance
+after," she added with a confident smile.
+
+Dolly was not much in a mood for visiting, and scantly inclined to mix
+in the joyous circle which must be breathing so different an atmosphere
+from her own. She doubted besides whether she could leave her watch and
+ward for so long a time as a night and a day. Yet it was pleasant to
+see Christina, and the opportunity to talk over old times was tempting;
+and her friend's instances were very urgent. Dolly at last gave a
+conditional assent; and they parted; Dolly and Rupert taking the way
+home.
+
+"Is that lady a friend of yours?" Rupert enquired.
+
+"The daughter; not the mother."
+
+"The old lady, I meant. She has a mind to know all about us."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"She asked me about five hundred and fifty questions, after she quitted
+you."
+
+"What did you tell her?"
+
+"I told her what she knew before," said Rupert, chuckling. "Her stock
+of knowledge hasn't grown _very_ much, I guess, by all she got out of
+me. But she tried."
+
+Dolly was silent. After a short pause, Rupert spoke again in quite
+another tone.
+
+"Miss Dolly, you've put me in a sort of a puzzle. You said a little
+while ago, or you spoke as if you thought, that all those grand old
+Roman emperors were not after all great men. Then, if _they_ were not
+great, what's a fellow to try for? If a common fellow does his best, he
+will not get to the hundredth or the thousandth part of what those men
+did. Yet you say they were not great. What's the use of my trying, for
+instance, to do anything, or be anything?"
+
+"What did they do, Rupert?"
+
+"Well, you seem to say, nothing! But don't you come to Rome to admire
+what they did?"
+
+"Some of the things they did, or made. But stand still here, Rupert,
+and look. Do you see the Rome of the Caesars? You see an arch here and
+a theatre there; but the city of those days is buried. It is under our
+feet. The great works of art here, those that were done in their day,
+were not done by them. Do you think it is any good to one of those old
+emperors in the other world--take the best of them--is it any good to
+him now that he had some of these splendid buildings erected, or
+marbles carved? Or that his armies conquered the world, and his
+government held order wherever his arms went? If he is happy in the
+presence of God, is it anything to him, now, that we look back and
+admire his work?--and if he is unhappy, banished that Presence, is it
+anything to him then?"
+
+"Well, what _is_ greatness then?" said Rupert. "What is worth a man's
+trying for, if these greatest things are worth nothing?"
+
+"I do not think anything is really great or worth while," said Dolly,
+"except those things that God likes."
+
+"You come back to religion," said Rupert. "I did not mean religion.
+What are those things?"
+
+"I do not think anything is worth trying for, Rupert, except the things
+that will last."
+
+"What things will last?" said he half impatiently.
+
+"Look here," said Dolly. "Step a little this way. Do you see the
+Colosseum over yonder? Who do you think will remember, and do remember,
+that with most pleasure; Vespasian and Titus who built it, or the
+Christians who gave themselves to the lions there for Christ's sake?"
+
+"Yes," said Rupert, "of course; but _that_ isn't the thing. There are
+no lions here now."
+
+"There are lions of another sort," said Dolly, standing still and with
+her eyes fixed upon the wonderful old pile in the distance. "There is
+always work to be done for God, Rupert, and dangers or difficulties to
+be faced; and to the people who face _any_ lions for His sake, there is
+a promise of praise and honour and blessing that will last for ever."
+
+"Then you would make all a man's work to be work for God?" said Rupert,
+not satisfied with this view of the question. "What is to become of all
+the rest of the things that are to be done in the world?"
+
+"There ought not to be anything else done in the world," said Dolly,
+laughing, as she turned and began to walk on again. "It ought all to be
+done for Him. Merchants ought to make money for His service; and
+lawyers ought to strive to bring God's order between man and man, and
+justice to every one, and that never wrong should be done or oppression
+exercised by anybody. 'Break every yoke, and let the oppressed go
+free.' And soldiers ought to fight for no other reason but to protect
+weaker people from violence and wrong. And so on of everything else.
+And, Rupert, God has promised a city, of His own preparing, for His
+people; it will be a place of delights; and I am thinking of that
+word,--'Blessed are they that do His commandments; that they may have a
+right to the tree of life, and may enter in through the gates into the
+city.' I don't believe anybody that is left outside will think much of
+what we call greatness in that day."
+
+"Why, the world wouldn't be the world, at that rate," cried Rupert.
+
+"Think it wouldn't be altered for the better?"
+
+"But a few people can't make it like that."
+
+"Suppose they make only a very little piece of it like that?--But then
+comes the end, Rupert, and the King's 'Well done!'"
+
+"Then you wouldn't have a man make as much as he can of himself," said
+Rupert after a dissatisfied pause.
+
+"Certainly I would."
+
+"What use?"
+
+"Oh, to be a better servant to his Master, the best he possibly can;
+and to do more work for Him; the most he can do."
+
+"It seems to me, Miss Dolly, if you are right, pretty much all the rest
+of the world are wrong."
+
+"Yes, Rupert; don't you remember the Bible says that the wrong way is
+the broad way, where almost all the people go?"
+
+Rupert's meditations this time held him till they got home.
+
+The days that intervened before Christmas were filled full with
+delightful business. Dolly had her anxieties, it is true; but she was
+in Rome. What could stand against the witchery of the enchantress city?
+Anxieties fell into the background; and with all the healthy, elastic
+spring of her young years Dolly gave herself to the Present and the
+Past, and rejoiced, hour by hour and step by step, in what the Present
+and the Past opened up to her. True, her father and mother hardly
+shared in her pleasure; Mr. Copley's taste was blunted, I fear, for all
+noble enjoyment; and Mrs. Copley cared mainly to be comfortable in her
+home quarters, and to go out now and then where the motley world of
+fashion and of sight-seeing did most congregate. Especially she liked
+to go to the Pincian Hill Sunday afternoon, and watch the indescribable
+concourse of people of all nationalities which is there to be seen at
+that time. But there Dolly would not go.
+
+"It is very absurd of you, Dolly!" cried her mother, greatly
+disappointed; for she had a pride in seeing the universal attention
+which was drawn to Dolly in every public place. "What harm should there
+be in looking at the beautiful view and hearing music? we are not going
+to _do_ anything."
+
+"It's the Lord's day, mother," said Dolly, looking up at her
+sorrowfully.
+
+"You went to church this morning all right," her mother said. "There is
+no church for you to go to at this time of day, that I know of; and if
+there were, I should think it very ridiculous to go again. If you want
+to think, you could think about good things, I should hope, on the
+Pincian. What is there to hinder you?"
+
+"Only everything I should see and hear, mother."
+
+"Hinder you from thinking about good things!"
+
+"Hinder me from thinking about anything," said Dolly, laughing a little.
+
+"Seriously, Miss Dolly," said Lawrence, who stood by, hat in hand,
+ready to go; the Pincian Hill Sunday evening was something he quite
+approved of;--"seriously, do you think there is anything _wrong_ in
+sitting up there for an hour or two, and seeing the beautiful sunset
+colours, and hearing the music?"
+
+"She's a little Puritan," said her father; "and the Puritans were
+always an obstinate set, Lawrence; always, and in every nation and
+people. I wonder why the two things should go together."
+
+"What two things, father?"
+
+"What you call Puritanism and obstinacy."
+
+"I suppose because those you call Puritans love the truth," said Dolly;
+"and so hold to it."
+
+"And do you not think other people, who are not Puritans, also love the
+truth, Miss Dolly?" Lawrence asked.
+
+"I don't think anybody loves the truth he disobeys," Dolly said with a
+gentle shake of her head.
+
+"There!" said her mother. "There's Dolly all over. She is right, and
+nobody else is right. I wonder what she supposes is to become of all
+the rest of the world! Everybody in Rome will be on the Pincian
+to-night except Dolly Copley. And every other mother but me will have
+her daughter with her."
+
+In answer to which Dolly kissed her, pulled the strings of her bonnet
+into a prettier bow, and looked at her with sweet, shining eyes, which
+said as plainly as possible without words that Mrs. Copley knew better.
+The party went off, nevertheless; and Lawrence, lingering till the
+others had turned their backs, held out his hand to Dolly.
+
+"Will you tell me," said he, "as a favour, what you think is the harm
+of what we are doing?"
+
+"You are just robbing the King of heaven and earth," Dolly answered
+gravely.
+
+"Robbing! Of what?"
+
+"Of time which He says is His, and of honour which He says ought to be
+His."
+
+"How?"
+
+"'The seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord thy God.'"
+
+"This is not the seventh; it is the first."
+
+"Quibbling, Mr. St. Leger. It is not the seventh from Monday, but it
+_is_ the seventh from Sunday; it is the one day set apart from the
+seven."
+
+"And what ought we to do with it? Sabbath means _rest_, does it not?
+What are we going to do but rest up there on the Pincian? only rest
+most delightfully. You will not rest so here."
+
+"I suppose your bodies will rest," said Dolly. "Your minds will have
+most uncommon powers of abstraction if they do."
+
+"But you are putting yourself out of the world, Dolly."
+
+"I mean it," said she with a little nod at him. "The Lord's people are
+not of the world, Mr. St. Leger; and the world does not like their
+ways. Never did."
+
+"I wonder if all Puritans are as quaint as you," said he, kissing the
+hand he held. But then he went off to the Pincian.
+
+And there, surely, was a most wonderful, rich, and varied scene; a
+concourse of people of all characters and nationalities--except the
+small party in the world which Dolly represented; a kaleidoscope view
+of figures and costumes, classes and callings, most picturesque, most
+diversified, most changeful. There were the Thayers, amongst others;
+and as they joined company with the Copley party, of course Mrs.
+Copley's pleasure was greatly increased; for in a crowd it is always
+pleasant to know somebody. Mr. Copley knew several people. Mrs. Thayer
+had leisure to tell and ask whatever she had a mind with Mrs. Copley,
+and to improve her acquaintance with Mr. St. Leger; who on his part
+managed to get some conversation with the beautiful Christina. It was a
+distinction to be talking to such a beauty, and he felt it so; and
+Christina on her part was not insensible to the fact that the young man
+was himself very handsome, and unexceptionably well dressed, and the
+heir to many thousands; therefore a person of importance. The time on
+the Pincian Hill that evening was very pleasantly spent; and so Mrs.
+Copley told her daughter on their return.
+
+"Mrs. Thayer said she was very sorry not to see you," Mrs. Copley added.
+
+"I am much obliged to her."
+
+"You are not obliged to her at all, for she didn't mean it. That's what
+you get by staying behind."
+
+"What?" said Dolly, dimpling up.
+
+"That woman had it all her own way; talked to Mr. St. Leger, and let
+him talk to her daughter. You see, Dolly, Christina is very handsome
+when you are not by."
+
+"Mother, she is at any time. She's beautiful. You must not set me up in
+comparison with her."
+
+"Well, she's engaged," said Mrs. Copley. "I wish you were. You let
+everything hang by the eyelids, Dolly; and some fine morning what you
+look for won't be there."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+CHRISTMAS EVE.
+
+Christmas Eve came, and Rupert attended Dolly to the Piazza di Spagna,
+where her friends had apartments in a great hotel. Dolly was quite
+prepared to enjoy herself; the varied delights of the foregoing days
+had lifted her out of the quiet, patient mood of watchful endurance
+which of late had been chronic with her, and her spirits were in a flow
+and stir more fitted to her eighteen years. She was going through the
+streets of Rome! the forms of the ages rose before her mind's eye
+continually, and before her bodily eye appeared here and there tokens
+and remains which were like the crumblings of those ages; tangible
+proofs that once they had been, and that Rome was still Rome. Dolly
+drew breaths of pleasure as she and Rupert walked along.
+
+"You are going to stay all night?" said Rupert.
+
+"Yes, they want me."
+
+"And they have asked nobody but you?" said Rupert, who was not
+conventional.
+
+"They wanted nobody but me. It is not a party; it is my old
+school-friend only, who wants to show me her future husband."
+
+Rupert grunted his intelligence, and at the same time his
+mystification. "What for?" he asked. And Dolly laughed.
+
+"I don't know! It is natural, I suppose, to some people. Here we are.
+Good night."
+
+The Thayers were very well lodged indeed. Dolly found herself in really
+charming rooms, well furnished and well lighted. She was joyfully
+received, and Christina led her forthwith through saloon and
+dining-room to the sanctuary of her own chamber. A certain feeling of
+contrast began to fall upon Dolly already, Christina looked so very
+fresh and fair and well kept; the lightest veil of anxiety had never
+shadowed her bloom; the most remote cloud of embarrassment or need had
+never risen on her horizon. Careless, happy, secure, her mind knew no
+burden. It made Dolly feel the pressure of her own; and yet she was
+glad, for a little, to get into this atmosphere of peace and
+confidence, and enjoy it even by the contrast. Christina's room looked
+like a curiosity shop. It was littered with recent purchases; all sorts
+of pretty things, useful and useless.
+
+"One cannot help buying," she said, excusing herself. "I see something
+at every step that I want; and I must get it when I see it, or I may
+never see it again, you know. It is great fun, but sometimes I almost
+get tired. Here, dear, I can lay your things here. Isn't my fire nice?
+Now sit down and warm yourself. It's too delightful to have you! It is
+like a bit of home, and a bit of old times. Those old school days were
+pleasant?"
+
+"Very pleasant!" said Dolly, sitting down and looking into the queer
+but bright fire of small sticks which burned in Christina's chimney.
+"Very pleasant! I was with my dear Aunt Hal, in Philadelphia."
+
+"But these days are better, Dolly," Miss Thayer went on. "That wasn't
+much compared to this."
+
+"I don't know," said Dolly. "There was no care in those times."
+
+"Care?" exclaimed Christina, as if she did not know the meaning of the
+word. "What care have you, Dolly? I have none, except the care to make
+my money buy all I want--which it won't, so I may as well make up my
+mind to it, and I do. What have you been getting in Rome?"
+
+"Oh, more pleasure than I knew so many days could hold," said Dolly,
+laying some of the sticks of the fire straight.
+
+"Isn't it wonderful? I think there's nothing like Rome. Unless,
+perhaps, Paris."
+
+"Paris!" said Dolly. "What's at Paris?"
+
+"Ah, you don't know it, or you wouldn't ask! Everything, my dear. Rome
+has a good deal, certainly, but Paris has _everything_. Now tell
+me,--are you engaged?"
+
+"I? No. Of course not."
+
+"I don't see why it's of course. Most people are at one time or
+another; and I didn't know but your time had come."
+
+"No," said Dolly. "Neither the time nor the man. I've come to hear
+about yours."
+
+"If he's good, you'll see him; the man, I mean. He promised to be with
+us at Christmas, if he could; and he always keeps his promises."
+
+"That's a good thing," said Dolly. .
+
+"Ye-s," said Christina, "that is, of course, a good thing. One likes to
+have promises kept. But it is possible to have too much of a good
+thing."
+
+"Not of keeping promises!" said Dolly in unfeigned astonishment.
+
+"I don't know," said Christina. "Sandie is so fixed in everything; he
+holds to his opinions and his promises and his expectations; and he
+holds a trifle too fast."
+
+"He has a right to hold to his expectations, surely," said Dolly,
+laughing.
+
+"Not too much," said Christina. "He has no right to expect everybody to
+keep their promises as precisely as he does his! People aren't made
+alike."
+
+"No; but honour is honour."
+
+"Come, now, Dolly," said Christina laughing in her turn, "you are
+another! You are just a little bit precise, like my Sandie. You cannot
+make all the world alike, if you try; and he can't."
+
+"I am not going to try, and I think it would be a very stupid world if
+I could do it; but nobody ought to raise _expectations_ he is not
+prepared to gratify."
+
+"Like a sentence out of a book!" cried Christina. "But Sandie is the
+most unchangeable person; he will not take any views of anything but
+the views he has always taken; he is as fixed as the rock of Gibraltar,
+and almost as distinct and detached from the rest of the world."
+
+"And don't you like that?"
+
+"No; confess I do not. I'd like him to come down a little from his high
+place and mix with the rest of us mortals."
+
+"What expectations does he indulge which you are not willing to meet?"
+
+"That's the very thing!" cried Christina, in her turn stooping to
+arrange the little sticks and pile more on; "he is unreasonable."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Wants me to marry him."
+
+"Is that unreasonable?"
+
+"Yes! till things are ready for such a step, and I am ready."
+
+"What things?"
+
+"Dolly, he is only the first officer of his ship. He was distinguished
+in the last war, and he has the prospect of promotion. I don't want to
+marry him till he is a captain."
+
+"Why?" said Dolly.
+
+"Why?--Don't you understand? He would have a better position then, and
+better pay; and could give me a better time generally; and mamma thinks
+we ought to wait. And I like waiting. It's better fun, I do think, to
+be engaged than to be married. I _know_ I shouldn't have my head near
+so much if I was married to Sandie. I do just as I like now; for mamma
+and I are always of a mind."
+
+"And are not you and Mr. Shubrick of a mind?"
+
+"Not about this," said Christina, getting up from the hearth, and
+laughing.
+
+"Pray, if one may ask, how long have you and he been waiting already?"
+
+"Oh, _he_ thinks it is a great while; but what is the harm of waiting?"
+
+"Well, how long is it, Christina?"
+
+"Dolly, we were engaged very young. It was before I left school; one
+summer when I was home for the vacation. I was sixteen; that is four
+years ago, and more."
+
+"Four years!" cried Dolly.
+
+"Yes. Of course we were too young then to think of marrying. He was
+home on furlough, and I was home for the vacation; and our houses were
+near together; and so we made it up. His people were not very well off,
+but mine were; so there was nothing in the way, and nobody objected
+much; only mother said we must wait."
+
+"What are you waiting for now, Christina?"
+
+"I told you. I am in no hurry, for my part. I want Sandie to get his
+ship; and in the meanwhile it is just as nice to be as we are. We see
+each other when we can; and Italy is Italy; and I am very contented.
+Unfortunately, Sandie isn't."
+
+"How long do you propose to go on waiting?"
+
+"I don't know. Oh, I don't know! and I don't care. What is the harm of
+waiting?"
+
+"That depends on what you promise yourselves in being married."
+
+"Dolly," said Christina thoughtfully, "I don't promise myself anything
+much better than I have got now. If Sandie would only be content, I
+could go on so for ever."
+
+"And not be married?"
+
+"Besides, Dolly, I don't want to keep house in a small way. I do not!
+and if I married a lieutenant in the navy, I couldn't do anything else.
+You see, Sandie would not live upon papa's money; though papa would do
+anything for me; but Sandie won't; and on _his_ means we should live on
+a very small scale indeed."
+
+"But you would have enough?"
+
+"Enough for what? We should have enough to eat. But, Dolly, I do not
+like to have to think of economy. I have never been used to it. Look at
+my room; see the things I have got together these last few days. Look
+here--this is a ring I want you to wear for me. Isn't it delicious? It
+is as old as the best time of cameo-cutting, they say, but I do not
+remember when that was; it's rather large for a lady's ring, but it is
+an undoubted beauty. Jupiter's eagle, with the thunderbolts. Just look
+at the plumage of the bird,--and its fierce eye!"
+
+Dolly was greatly delighted. Of all the pretty things she had seen
+during the weeks past, she had bought nothing, save one or two bits for
+her mother. This gift was vastly more to Dolly than Christina could
+imagine. She had so literally everything she wanted, that no further
+acquisition could give her great pleasure. It lacked the enhancement of
+difficulty and rarity. I suppose the ring was more to Dolly than her
+whole roomful beside to Christina. It was in truth a very exquisite
+cameo. Dolly put it on her finger and looked at it in different lights,
+and admired it and enjoyed it hugely; while at the same time it gave an
+odd grace of setting-off to her simple dress. Dolly was in a plain
+black silk, with no adornment at all, until she put the ring on. Unless
+her quaint old cable chain could be called such. _That_ Dolly always
+wore. She was a sweet, quaint figure, illuminated by the firelight, as
+Christina observed her; girlish and graceful, with a fair face and
+beautiful hair; the sober dress and the true womanly eyes making a
+certain hidden harmony, and the cameo setting a seal of daintiness and
+rareness to the whole. Christina was seized with admiration that had a
+good deal of respect blended with it of a sudden.
+
+"You don't agree with me, Dolly," she said after a little, when Dolly's
+thanks and the beauty of the ring had been sufficiently discussed, and
+a pause had brought the thoughts of both back to the former subject.
+
+"What do you want, Christina?"
+
+"I just want to be happy and comfortable," said the girl, "as I always
+have been. I don't want to come down to pinching. Is that unreasonable?"
+
+"You would not have to pinch, Christina."
+
+"Yes, I should; to live like the rest of the world."
+
+"Are you obliged to do that?"
+
+"Live like the rest of the world? Yes, or be out of the world."
+
+"I thought you were a Christian," said Dolly softly.
+
+"A Christian! Yes, so I am. What has that got to do with it?"
+
+"A good deal, I should say. Tiny, you cannot follow Christ and be like
+the world."
+
+"I don't want to be like the world, in bad things; but I mean things
+that are not bad. One must be like the world in some ways, if one can.
+Don't you set up for being any better than me, Dolly, for I won't stand
+it; we are all really just alike."
+
+"The world and Christians?"
+
+"Yes; in some things."
+
+"Ways of living?"
+
+"Yes,--in some ways."
+
+"Christina, did you use to think so in old times?"
+
+"I was young then; I did not know the world. You have _got_ to do as
+the world do, in a measure, Dolly."
+
+Dolly was silent a bit. She too, on her part, observed her friend. Fair
+and handsome she was; very handsome; with the placid luxuriance of
+nature which has never known shocks or adverse weather. Dolly felt the
+contrast which Christina had also felt, but Dolly went deeper into it.
+She and her friend had drifted apart, not in regard for each other, but
+in life and character; and Dolly involuntarily compared their
+experiences. Trouble to Christina was a word of unknown meaning; to
+herself it was become daily bread. Had that made the difference?
+Christina was living on the surface of things; skimming a smooth sea in
+a gilded gondola; shelter and adornment were all about her life, and
+plenty within. Dolly had been, as it were, cast into the waves and was
+struggling with them; now lifted on a high crest, and now brought down
+to the bottom. Was that how she had learned to know that there were
+wonderful things of preciousness and beauty at the bottom of the sea?
+and must one perhaps be tossed by the storm to find out the value and
+the power of the hand that helps? It did smite Dolly with a kind of
+pain, the sense of Christina's sheltered position and security; the
+thought of the father's arms that were a harbour for her, the
+guardianship that came between her and all the roughness of the world.
+And yet, Dolly along with the bitterness of this, was tasting also
+something else which did not enter Christina's cup of life; a rarer
+sweetness, which she would not have exchanged for Christina's whole
+draught. She had found jewels more precious at the depth of the sea
+than ever Christina could pick up in her pleasure sail along shore.
+Christina, with all her luxury, was missing something, and in danger of
+losing more. Dolly resolved to speak.
+
+"Do you know, Tiny," she said, "if I were Mr. Shubrick, I should not be
+satisfied?"
+
+"Why not?" said Christina carelessly.
+
+"Why, you are preferring the world to him."
+
+"I am not! No such thing, Dolly. I love him dearly."
+
+"By your own showing, you love--what shall I say?--luxuries and
+position, more."
+
+"I only want to wait a little."
+
+"And, Christina--I don't believe God likes it."
+
+"Likes what?"
+
+"Your wanting to do as the world do."
+
+"How do you know I do?"
+
+"You said so."
+
+"I like to have a nice house, and servants enough, and furniture to
+please me, and means to entertain my friends; and who doesn't? That's
+all I ask for."
+
+"And to do what everybody else does."
+
+"Yes," said Christina smiling. "Who don't?"
+
+"You were on the Pincian Hill Sunday afternoon."
+
+"Yes," said Christina suddenly, looking up. "Why not? Why weren't you
+there?"
+
+"If you will read the last two verses of the fifty-eighth chapter of
+Isaiah, you will know."
+
+"I can't read in this light," said Christina, looking round the room,
+"and I don't know just where I have laid my Bible. Everybody goes to
+the Pincian. It's no harm."
+
+"Would Mr. Shubrick go?"
+
+"Who told you he wouldn't?" said Christina. "I declare, if you are
+going to help him in his crotchets, I won't let you see much of him!
+Sandie!--he's just an unmanageable, unreasonable bit of
+downrightness.--And uprightness," she added, laughing. "Dolly, he can
+have his own way aboard ship; but in the world one can't get along so.
+One must conform a little. One must."
+
+"Does God like it?" said Dolly.
+
+"What queer questions you ask! This is not a matter of religion; it is
+only living."
+
+Dolly remembered words which came very inconveniently across
+Christina's principles; yet she was afraid of saying too much. She
+reflected that her friend was breathing the soft air of luxury, which
+is not strengthening, and enveloped in a kind of mist of
+conventionality, through which she could not see. With herself it was
+different. She had been thrown out of all that; forced to do battle
+with necessity and difficulty, and so driven to lay hold of the one
+hand of strength and deliverance that she could reach. What wonder if
+she held it fast and held it dear? while Christina seemed hardly to
+have ever felt the need of anything.
+
+"Now, Dolly, tell me all about yourself," Christina broke in upon her
+meditations.
+
+"There isn't much to tell."
+
+"What have you been doing?"
+
+"Painting miniatures--one of the last things."
+
+"Oh, delightful! Copies?"
+
+"Copies from life. May I take you? and then perhaps, if I succeed, you
+will get me work."
+
+"Work!" repeated Christina.
+
+Dolly nodded. "Yes; I want work."
+
+"Work!" cried Christina again. "Dolly, you don't mean that you _need_
+it? Don't say that!"
+
+"I do. That's nothing so dreadful, if only I can get it. I paint
+miniatures for--I have had ten and I have had twenty pounds," said
+Dolly with a laugh; "but twenty is magnificent. I do not ask twenty."
+
+Christina exclaimed with real sorrow and interest, and was eager to
+know the cause of such a state of things. Dolly could but give her the
+bare facts, not the philosophy of them.
+
+"You poor, dear, lovely little Dolly!" cried Christina. "A thought
+strikes me. Why don't you marry this handsome, rich young Englishman?"
+
+Again Dolly's face dimpled all over.
+
+"The thought don't strike me," she said.
+
+"But he's very rich, isn't he?"
+
+"Yes. That is nothing to me. I wouldn't give my father and mother for
+him."
+
+"But for your father and mother's sake?"--There was a knock at the door
+here. "What is it? dinner? Come, Dolly; we'll reason afterwards."
+
+The dinner was excellent. More than the excellence, however, went to
+Dolly's enjoyment. The rare luxury of eating without having to think
+what it cost, and without careful management to make sure that enough
+was left for the next day's breakfast and lunch. It was great luxury!
+and how Dolly felt it, no one there could in the least guess. With
+that, however, as the evening went on and the unwonted soft atmosphere
+of ease was taking effect upon her, Dolly again and again drew the
+contrast between herself and her friend. How sheltered and guarded, and
+fenced in and fenced off, Christina was! how securely and safely
+blooming in the sacred enclosure of fatherly and motherly care! and
+Dolly--alas, alas! _her_ defences were all down, and she herself,
+delicate and tender, forced into the defender's place, to shield those
+who should have shielded her. It pressed on her by degrees, as the
+sweet unaccustomed feeling of ease and rest made itself more and more
+sensible, and by contrast she realised more and more the absence of it
+in her own life. It pressed very bitterly.
+
+The girls had just withdrawn again after dinner to the firelight
+cosiness of Christina's room, when Mrs. Thayer put her head in.
+
+"Christina, here's Baron Kraemer and Signor Count Villa Bella, come to
+know if you will go to the Sistine Chapel."
+
+"Mother!--how you put titles together! Oh, I remember; there is music
+at the Sistine to-night. But Sandie might come."
+
+"And might not," said Mrs. Thayer. "You will have time enough to see
+Sandie; and this is Christmas Eve, you know. You may not be in Rome
+next Christmas."
+
+"Would you like to go, Dolly?" said Christina doubtfully.
+
+Dolly's heart jumped at the invitation; music and the Sistine Chapel!
+But it did not suit her to make an inconvenient odd one in a partie
+carree, among strangers. She declined.
+
+"I said I would go," said Mrs. Thayer. "Since the gentlemen have come
+to take you, I think you had better. Dolly will not mind losing you for
+an hour or two."
+
+Which Dolly eagerly confirmed; wondering much at the same time to see
+Christina hesitate, when her lover, as she said, might come at any
+minute.
+
+She, too, finally resolved against it, however; and when Mrs. Thayer
+and the gentlemen had gone, and Mr. Thayer had withdrawn, as his custom
+was, to his own apartment, the two girls took possession of the
+forsaken drawing-room. It was a pretty room, very well furnished, and
+like every other part of the present home of the Thayers, running over
+with new possessions in the shape of bits of art or antiquity,
+pictures, and trinkets of every kind, which they were always picking
+up. These were an infinite amusement to Dolly; and Christina was
+good-humouredly pleased with her pleasure.
+
+"There's no fun in being in Rome," she remarked, "if you cannot buy all
+you see. I would run away if my purse gave out."
+
+"But there is all that you cannot take away," said Dolly. "Think of
+what your mother has gone to this evening."
+
+"The Sistine Chapel," said Christina. "I don't really care for it.
+Those stupid old prophets and sybils say nothing to me; though of
+course one must make a fuss about them; and the picture of the Last
+Judgment, _I_ think, is absolutely frightful."
+
+But here Dolly's eyes arrested her friend.
+
+"Well, I tell you the truth; I do think so," she said. "I may tell the
+truth to you. I do not care one pin for Michael Angelo."
+
+"Mayn't you tell the truth to anybody?"
+
+"Not unless I want to be stared at; and I do not want to be stared at,
+in _that_ way. I am glad I did not go with mamma and those people; if
+Sandie had come, I do not think he would have altogether liked it.
+Though I don't know but it is good to make men jealous. Mamma says it
+is."
+
+"Oh no!" said Dolly. "Not anybody you care for."
+
+"What do _you_ know?" said Christina archly. Before she could receive
+an answer, then, she had started and sprung up; for the door gently
+opened and on the threshold presented himself a gentleman in naval
+uniform.
+
+"Sandie!" cried Christina.
+
+"Didn't you expect me?" he said with a frank and bright smile.
+
+Dolly had heard enough about this personage to make her very curious;
+and her eyes took keen note of him. She saw a tall, upright figure,
+with that free poise of bearing which is a compound of strength and
+ease; effortless, quiet, graceful, and dignified. Though in part the
+result of a certain symmetry of joints and practised activity in the
+use of them, this sort of bearing refers itself also, and yet more
+surely, to the character, and makes upon the beholder the impression
+again of strength and ease in the mental action. It is not common; it
+struck Dolly in the first five steps he made into the room and in the
+manner of his greeting his betrothed. Out of delicate consideration, I
+suppose, for the company in which they found themselves, he offered
+only a look and a hand-clasp; but Christina jumped up and kissed him.
+She was not short, yet she had to make a little spring to reach his
+lips. And then, quietly putting an arm round her, he gave her her kiss
+back. Christina was rosy when she turned to present him, and both were
+smiling. Letting her go, he bowed low before Christina's friend; low
+and gravely; with such absolute gravity that Dolly almost felt herself
+in the way; as if he wished her not there. Then they sat down around
+the fire; and the same feeling came over her again with a rush. They
+were three; they ought to have been but two; she was one too many; they
+must wish her away. And yet, Christina had asked her precisely and
+specially that she might be one of the company that night. Dolly would
+have wished herself away, nevertheless; only that she was so very much
+interested, and could not. The newcomer excited her curiosity greatly,
+and provoked her observation; and, if the truth must be told, exercised
+also a powerful attraction upon her. He sat before the fire, full in
+her view, and struck Dolly as different from all the people she had
+ever seen in her life. She took glances from time to time, as she
+could, at the fine, frank, manly face, which had an unusual combination
+of the two qualities, frankness and manliness; was much more than
+usually serious, for a man of his age; and yet, she saw now and then,
+could break to tenderness or pleasure or amusement, with a sweetness
+that was winning. Dolly was fascinated, and could not wish herself
+away; why should she, if Christina did not?
+
+In all her life she never forgot the images of two of the people around
+the fire that evening. "Sandie" in the middle, in front of the blaze;
+Christina on the other hand of him. She was in a glistening robe of
+dark blue silk, her fair hair knotted and wound gracefully about her
+head; a beautiful creature; looking at her lover with complacent looks
+of possession and smiles of welcome. Dolly never knew what sort of a
+figure the third was; she could not see herself, and she never thought
+about it. Yet she was a foil to the other two, and they were a foil to
+her, as she sat there at the corner of the hearth on a low cushion, in
+her black dress, and with no ornament about her other than the cameo
+ring. A creature very different from the beauty at the other corner of
+the fireplace; more delicate, more sensitive, more spiritual; oddly and
+inexplicably, more of a child and more of a woman. That's a rare
+mixture. There was something exceedingly sweet and simple in her soft
+brown eyes and her lips; but the eyes had looked at life, the brow was
+grave, and the lips could close into lines of steady will. The delicate
+vessel was the shrine of a soul, as large as it could hold, and so had
+taken on the transparent nobility which belongs to the body when the
+soul is allowed to be dominant. One point of the contrast between the
+two girls was in the character and arrangement of their hair.
+Christina's was smooth, massed, and in a sort massive; Dolly's
+clustered or was knotted about her head, without the least disorder,
+but with a wilfulness of elegant play most harmonious with all the rest
+of her appearance. To characterise the two in a word, Christina was a
+beautiful pearl, and Dolly was a translucent opal.
+
+They sat down round the fire.
+
+"Well, Sandie, you naughty boy," Christina began, "what has kept you
+away all this time?"
+
+"Duty."
+
+"Duty! I told you so, Dolly; this man has only two or three words in
+his vocabulary, which he trots out on all occasions to do general
+service. One of them is 'duty;' another is 'must.'"
+
+"'Must' is the true child of 'duty,'" the gentleman remarked.
+
+"Oh no, I don't allow that; it is a marriage connection, which may be
+dissolved by a dispensation."
+
+"Is that your idea of the marriage connection?" said he with a smile.
+
+"But, Sandie! don't you want something to eat?"
+
+"No, thank you."
+
+"Because you can have it in a moment."
+
+"I have dined, Christina."
+
+"Where have you been all this while--weeks and weeks?"
+
+"Have you not received any letters from me?"
+
+"Yes, indeed! but words are so different spoken and written. We have
+been half over Europe. I wish you could have been along! Sandie, we
+went to Baden-Baden."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"_What for!_ Why, to see it. And we saw the gaming."
+
+"How did you like it?"
+
+"It is fascinating. I never saw such a scene in my life; the people's
+faces; and then the mad eagerness with which they went at it; old men
+and young men, and women. Oh, it was astonishing to see the women!"
+
+"What was the effect upon you?"
+
+"I don't know; astonishment."
+
+"How did Mrs. Thayer like it?"
+
+"Do you know, I think she half wanted to try her hand? I was so amazed
+at mother! I told her she must not."
+
+"You observe, Miss Copley, Miss Thayer knows the use of one of my
+words."
+
+It was a strange, novel, absorbing experience to Dolly. Sitting at one
+corner of the hearth, quiet, and a little as it were a one side, she
+watched the play and the people. She was so delightfully set free for
+the moment from all her home cares and life anxieties. It was like
+getting out of the current and rush of the waves into a nook of a bay,
+where her tossed little skiff could lie still for a bit, and the
+dangers and difficulties of navigation did not demand her attention.
+She rested luxuriously and amused herself with seeing and hearing what
+went on. And to tell the whole truth, Dolly was more than amused; she
+was interested; and watched and listened keenly. Christina was a lovely
+figure in her bright dress and bright beauty, a little excited, and
+happy, not too much; not too much to make Dolly's presence desirable
+and agreeable; just enough to make her more lovely than usual. The
+other figure of the little party was more interesting yet to Dolly. She
+thought he was very peculiar, and unlike any one she had ever seen. His
+repose of demeanour was striking; he seemed to make no unnecessary
+movement; he sat still; neither hand nor head nor foot betrayed any
+restlessness either of mind or body; and yet when he did move, were it
+only hand or foot or head, the impression he gave Dolly was of
+readiness for the keenest action, if the time for action once came. How
+the two seemingly contradictory impressions were conveyed together,
+Dolly did not stop to think; she had no time to moralise upon her
+observations; however, this mingling of calm and vigour was very
+imposing to her; it attracted and fascinated. No man could sit more
+quiet in company; and yet, if he turned his head or shifted the
+position of his hand, what Dolly saw was power and readiness to move
+with effect if there were anything to be done; and the calm intensified
+the power to her mind. And then, apart from all this, the room in which
+they were sitting was filled with pretty things and charming things
+which the Thayers had been collecting since they came to Rome. Dolly's
+eye strayed from one to another, as she sat listening to her
+companions; though the pretty things never diverted her attention from
+what these were saying or what they were doing. It was a charmed hour
+altogether! of rest and relief and enjoyment. Taken out of herself and
+away from her cares, Dolly tasted and delighted in the fairy minutes as
+they flew, and did not even trouble herself to think how soon they
+would be flown by and gone.
+
+"You have been a great while away, Sandie," Christina was saying. "Why
+could you not join us before? You might have skipped something. Here
+have I stayed away from the Sistine to-night, for your sake."
+
+"Is it any special loss, this evening of all others?"
+
+"Certainly! It is Christmas; there is music, and company."
+
+"Do you enjoy the Sistine Chapel, apart from music and company?"
+
+"No, indeed I don't! I don't like it at all. Such horrid things on the
+walls, as are enough to give one the nightmare after being there. I
+know it is Michael Angelo, and I am horribly out of order in saying so;
+but what is the use of pretending in _this_ company?"
+
+"What is the use of pretending in any company?"
+
+"Oh, nonsense, Sandie! a great deal. Everybody pretends, at some time
+or other. What would become of us if we spoke out all we had in our
+minds?"
+
+"You do not like the Sistine Chapel. What do you enjoy most in Rome?"
+
+"Most? The Pincian, Sunday afternoon."
+
+"Sunday! Why Sunday?"
+
+"Music, and all the world there. It's the most beautiful scene, in the
+first place, and the most amusing, that you can find. There is
+_everybody_ there, Sandie; people from all the quarters of the earth;
+of all nationalities and costumes; the oddest and the prettiest;
+everybody you know and everybody you don't know."
+
+"But why on Sunday?"
+
+"Oh, that's the special day; that and Thursday, I believe; but I
+generally have something else to do Thursday; and anyhow there isn't as
+good a show. I rarely go Thursday."
+
+"And Sunday you have nothing else to do. I see."
+
+"Well, Sandie, of course we have been to church in the morning, you
+know. There is nothing to go to in the afternoon. What should one do?"
+
+"Miss Copley, do you enjoy the Pincian on Sunday evenings?"
+
+"I have not tried it," said Dolly.
+
+"Your mother and father were there, though, last Sunday," said
+Christina. "Sandie, what are you thinking of? You have some
+superstitious objection? I daresay you have!"
+
+"Not I," said Mr. Shubrick. "But it occurs to me that there is a
+command somewhere, touching the question."
+
+"What command? In the Bible! Sandie, do you think those Sunday commands
+are to be taken just as they stand--to mean just so? and shut one
+stupidly up in the house for all day Sunday except when one is going in
+procession to church?"
+
+"You know," said Mr. Shubrick, "I am like the centurion in the Bible,
+'a man under authority,' having other men under me; 'and I say to this
+man, Go, and he goeth; and to another, Come and he cometh.' I know
+nothing about orders that are not to be obeyed."
+
+"And is that the way you would rule your house?" said Christina, half
+pouting.
+
+"I should leave that to you," he answered smiling. "It is enough for me
+to rule my ship. The house would be your care."
+
+"Would it? Does that mean that you expect always to be a sailor?"
+
+"It is my profession. A man must do something."
+
+"If he _must_. But not if he has no need to do anything?"
+
+The young officer looked at her with a considerative sort of gravity,
+and inquired if she could respect a lazy man.
+
+"No, and you never would be lazy, or could be lazy," she said,
+laughing. "But surely there are things enough to be done on shore."
+
+"Things enough. The question for every one is where he can do most."
+
+"Why, Sandie," Christina cried, "it is not possible that you should
+have your time to yourself on shipboard, and as an acting officer, as
+you could at home on shore. Reading and study, that, you like, I know;
+and then painting, and all art pleasures, that you think so much about,
+much more than I do; and a thousand other things;--you have no chance
+for them at sea."
+
+"You talk as if one had nothing to do but to please himself."
+
+"Well," said Christina, "so far as one can, why not? Does not all the
+world?"
+
+"Yes. All the world. You are right. All the world, except a little body
+of men who follow Christ; and _He_, pleased not Himself. I thought you
+knew I was one of His servants, Christina."
+
+"Does that forbid your pleasing yourself?"
+
+"Not in one way," said Mr. Shubrick, smiling again, a smile that made
+Dolly's heart throb with its meaning. "It is my pleasure to do my
+Master's will. The work He has given me to do, I would rather do of all
+things."
+
+"I can't think what work you mean, Sandie. I really do not understand."
+
+"Do you understand, Miss Copley?"
+
+Dolly started. "I believe so," she said.
+
+"Will you have the goodness to explain to Christina?"
+
+"Why don't you explain yourself, Sandie?" said his betrothed.
+
+"I am talking too much. Besides, it will come better from Miss Copley's
+lips."
+
+"I don't think so; but however.--Well, Dolly, if you are to explain,
+please explain. But how come _you_ to understand, when I don't
+understand? What work does he mean?"
+
+"I suppose," said Dolly, "Mr. Shubrick means work for other people."
+
+"Work for other people!" cried Christina. "Do you think _we_ do not do
+work for other people? Mamma gives away loads; she does a great deal
+for the poor. She is always doing it."
+
+"And you?"
+
+"Oh, I help now and then. But she does not want my help much."
+
+"Did you think, Miss Copley, I meant work for poor people?"
+
+"No," said Dolly. "At least--that is--I thought you meant the work that
+is for Christ."
+
+"Well, I am sure He commanded us to take care of the poor," said
+Christina.
+
+"He commanded us also to carry the gospel to every creature."
+
+"That's for ministers, and missionaries," said Christina.
+
+"The order was given to all the disciples, and He commanded us to be
+lights in the world."
+
+"Of course--to set good examples."
+
+"That is not quite the whole," said Mr. Shubrick; "though people do
+take it so, I believe."
+
+"I have always taken it so," said Dolly. "What more can it be?"
+
+"Remember the words--'Whatsoever _doth make manifest_ is light.' There
+is the key. There are good examples--so called--which disturb nobody.
+There are others,"--he spoke very gravely,--"before which sin knows
+itself, and conscience shrinks away; before which no lie can stand.
+Those are the Lord's light-bearers."
+
+"Sandie, what has got you into this vein of moralising? Is this talk
+for Christmas Eve, when we ought to be merry? Don't you lead a dreadful
+dull life on board ship?"
+
+"No," said he. "Never. Neither there nor anywhere else."
+
+"Are you always picking at the wick of that light of yours, to make it
+shine more?"
+
+"By no means. No lamp would stand such treatment. No; the only thing
+for us to do in that connection is to see that the supply of oil is
+kept up."
+
+"Sandie, life would be fearful on your terms!"
+
+"I do not find it so."
+
+And, "Oh no, Christina!" came from Dolly's lips at the same time.
+Christina looked from one to the other.
+
+"I had better gone to the Sistine," she said. "I suppose you would tell
+me there to look at Michael Angelo's picture of the Last Judgment. But
+I assure you I never do. I make a point not to see it."
+
+"What do _you_ enjoy most in this old city, Miss Copley?" Mr. Shubrick
+said now, turning to her.
+
+"I hardly can tell," said Dolly; "I enjoy it all so very much. I think,
+of all--perhaps the Colosseum."
+
+"That old ruin!" said Christina.
+
+"But it is such a beautiful ruin! Have you seen it by moonlight? And I
+always think of the time when it was finished, and full, and of the
+things that were done there; and I fancy the times when the moonlight
+shone in just so after the days when Christians had been given to the
+lions. I never get tired of the Colosseum."
+
+"You, too!" exclaimed Christina. "What pleasant and enlivening
+contemplations!"
+
+"Yes," said Dolly. "Grand. I see the moonlight shining on the broken
+walls of the Colosseum, and I think of the martyrs in their white
+robes. There is no place brings me nearer to heaven, and the world
+looks so small."
+
+"Dolly Copley!" cried Christina. "Do you want the world to look small,
+as long as you are obliged to live in it?"
+
+"It looks big enough," said Dolly, smiling, "as soon as I get home."
+
+The conversation, however, after this did take a turn, and ran upon
+more everyday topics; less interesting to Dolly however. But the
+speakers were interesting always; and she watched them, the play of
+sense and nonsense, of feeling and fun, not caring much that the matter
+of the talk did not concern her; until Mrs. Thayer and her escort were
+heard returning.
+
+And then, indeed, the evening changed its character; however the
+fascination remained for Dolly. The talk was no longer on personal
+subjects; it went gaily and jovially over all sorts of light matters;
+an excellent supper was served; and in the novelty and the brightness
+and the liveliness of all about her, Dolly was in a kind of
+bewitchment. It was a lull, a pause in the midst of her cares, a still
+nook to which an eddy had brought her, out of the current; Dolly took
+the full benefit. She would not think of trouble. Sometimes a swift
+feeling of contrast swept in upon her, the contrast of her friend's
+safe and sheltered life. No care for her; no anxiety about ways and
+means; no need to work for money; and no need to fear for anybody dear
+to her. Christina's father was _her_ guardian, not she his; he might be
+a very humdrum man, and no doubt was, but his daughter had no cause to
+be ashamed for him; had not the burden of his life and character on her
+own shoulders to take care of. A swift, keen feeling of this contrast
+would come over Dolly; but she put it away as instantly, and would not
+see or hear anything but what was pleasant.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+NAPLES.
+
+Dolly shared her friend's room. Talk ran on, all the while they were
+undressing, upon all manner of trifles. When they were laid down,
+however, and Dolly was just rejoicing to be quiet and think, Christina
+began to speak in a different tone.
+
+"Dolly, how do you like him?"
+
+I think, if Dolly had liked him less, she would have been fuller in his
+praise. I do not know by what sort of hidden instinct and unconscious
+diplomacy she answered very coolly and with no enthusiasm.
+
+"I like him very well. I think he is true."
+
+"True! Of course he is true. If he wouldn't be so stupid. To expect one
+to be unlike all the world."
+
+Dolly was silent.
+
+"He's crochetty, that's what he is," Christina went on. "I hate a man
+to be crochetty. I shall work him out of it, if ever we come to live
+together."
+
+"I don't believe you will, Christina."
+
+"Why not?"--quickly.
+
+"I don't _think_ you will," Dolly repeated.
+
+"Because you have the same notions that he has. My dear little Dolly!
+you don't know the world. You _can't_ live in the world and be running
+your head perpetually against it; indeed you cannot. You may break your
+head, but you won't do anything else. And the world will laugh at you."
+
+"But, Christina, whom do you serve? For it comes to that."
+
+"Whom do I serve! Pooh, that's not the question."
+
+"It comes to that, Christina."
+
+"Well, of course there is but one answer. But Sandie would have me give
+up everything;--everything!--all I like, and all I want to do."
+
+"Christina, it seems to me the Bible says we must give Christ our whole
+selves."
+
+"Oh, if you are going to take the Bible literally"----
+
+"How else can you take it?"
+
+"Seasonably."
+
+"But how are you going to settle what is reasonable? Didn't the Lord
+know what He wanted His people to do? And He said we must give Him
+ourselves and all we have got."
+
+"Have you?" said Christina.
+
+"What?"
+
+"Given up all, as you say?"
+
+"I think I have," Dolly answered slowly. "I am sure, Christina, I do
+not want anything but what God chooses to give me."
+
+"And are you ready to give up all your own pleasure and amusement, and
+your time, and be like no one else, and have no friends in the world?"
+Christina spoke the words in a kind of hurry.
+
+"You go too fast," said Dolly. "You ask too many things at once; and
+you forget what Mr. Shubrick said--that it is pleasure to please our
+Master. _He_ said it was His meat to do His Father's will; and He is
+our pattern. And doing His will does not prevent either pleasure or
+amusement, of the right sort; not at all. O Christina! I do not think
+anybody is rightly happy, except those who love Christ and obey him."
+
+"Are you happy?" was the next quick question. Dolly could not answer it
+as immediately.
+
+"If I am not," she said at last, "it is because there are some things
+in my life just now that--trouble me."
+
+"Dear Dolly!" said Christina affectionately. "But you looked quite
+happy this evening."
+
+"I was," said Dolly. "You made me so."
+
+Christina kissed her, and thereupon at once fell asleep. But Dolly was
+not sleepy. Her thoughts were wide awake, and roved over everything in
+the world, it seemed to her; at least over all her friend's affairs and
+over all her own. She was not fretting, only looking at things.
+Christina's ease and security and carelessness, her own burdens and
+responsibilities; the fulness of means here, the difficulty of getting
+supplies in her own household; Sandie Shubrick, finally, and Lawrence
+St. Leger! What a strange difference between one lot and another! It
+was a bright night; the moonlight streamed in at one of the windows in
+a yellow flood. Dolly lay staring at the pool of light on the floor.
+Roman moonlight! And so the same moonlight had poured down in old times
+upon the city of the Caesars; lighted up their palaces and triumphal
+arches; yes, and the pile of the Colosseum and the bones of the
+martyrs. The same moonlight! Old Rome lay buried; the oppressor and the
+oppressed were passed away; the persecutor and his victims alike long
+gone from the scene of their doings and sufferings; and the same moon
+shining on! What shadows we are in comparison! thought Dolly; and then
+her thoughts instantly corrected themselves. Not we, but _this_, is the
+shadow; this material, so unchanging earth. Sense misleads us. "The
+world passeth away and the lust thereof; but he that doeth the will of
+God abideth for ever." Then it is only to do that, thought Dolly; be it
+hard or easy; that is the only thing to care about. And therewith
+another word came to her; it seemed to be written in the
+moonlight:--"Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?" It came so
+soft and sweet upon Dolly's heart as I can hardly tell; her eyelids
+dropped from their watch, and in another minute she too was fast asleep.
+
+The next day was wholly pleasant to her. It was merry, as Christmas
+ought to be; and Dolly had laid aside her own cares and took everything
+as light-heartedly as anybody else. More, perhaps, if the truth were
+known; for Dolly had laid her cares she knew where, and that they would
+be looked after. The pleasant people, whose festivities she shared,
+were all kind to her; she had not been forgotten in the gifts which
+were flying about; and altogether the day was a white one. It only
+ended too soon. At four o'clock Dolly prepared to go home. Christina
+protested that she was not wanted there.
+
+"I am wanted more than you think. I must give mother a piece of my
+Christmas Day."
+
+"Well, you're all coming to us at Sorrento, remember; and that will be
+charming. We will go everywhere together. And Sandie;--you will be with
+us, Sandie? in the spring, at the villa? Oh, you must!"
+
+"If I possibly can," he said gravely.
+
+"And Sandie will take you home now, as you must go. I see he is ready."
+
+Dolly would have objected, but she could not alter this arrangement;
+and Mr. Shubrick walked home with her. It was a very matter-of-fact
+walk, however. There was as nearly as possible no conversation between
+the two. Nevertheless, the walk had its fascination for Dolly. The
+stately, straight, manly figure beside her, inspired her with an
+admiration which had a little awe mixed with it; to walk with him, even
+in silence, was an undoubted pleasure; and when he took leave of her at
+the door of her lodgings and turned away, Dolly felt, and not till
+then, that her holiday was over.
+
+She went up the stairs slowly. Her short holiday was over. Now work
+again. Well! Dolly remembered the conclusion of last night's thoughts
+in the moonlight; took up her burden on her shoulders, and carried it
+up stairs with her.
+
+She found her mother alone.
+
+"Dearest mother, how do you do?" she said, kissing her; "and how has
+the day been? I have stayed away pretty late, but I could hardly help
+it; and I have had a very nice time."
+
+"I don't like holidays," was Mrs. Copley's answer. "They're the
+wearisomest days I know; especially when every one else is out and
+enjoying himself. This Christmas has been a year long, seems to me. Who
+did you see?"
+
+"Just themselves, and Christina's friend, Mr. Shubrick."
+
+"What's he like?"
+
+"He's very fine, mother, I think. Christina ought to be a happy woman."
+
+"He hasn't got anything, as I understand?" said Mrs. Copley.  "I don't
+think Mrs. Thayer is at all delighted with the match. I know I
+shouldn't be."
+
+"Mrs. Thayer does not see things with my eyes, probably; and you don't
+see them at all, mother, dear, not knowing Mr. Shubrick. Look at my
+presents; see this lovely cameo ring; Christina gave it to me Christmas
+Eve; and this brooch is from Mrs. Thayer; and Mr. Thayer gave me this
+dear little bronze lamp."
+
+"What do you want with such a thing as that? you can't use it."
+
+"Oh, for the antique beauty, mother; and the lovely shape. It's real
+bronze, and Mr. Thayer says the workmanship is very fine."
+
+"But he has nothing, has he?" said Mrs. Copley, weighing the bronze
+lamp in her hand disapprovingly.
+
+"Who? He has another just like it. Do you mean Mr. Thayer?"
+
+"Pshaw, child, no! I mean the other man, Christina's intended. He has
+nothing, has he?"
+
+"I do not know what you call 'nothing.' He has a very fine figure, an
+excellent face, sense and firmness and gentleness; and a manner that's
+fascinating. I never saw anybody with a finer manner. I think he has a
+good deal."
+
+"Mr. St. Leger has all that, Dolly, and money to boot."
+
+"Mother! There is all the difference in the world between the two men."
+
+"St. Leger has the money, though; and that makes more difference than
+anything else I know of. Dolly, I _wish_ you would make up your mind. I
+think that would bring your father all right."
+
+"Where is father, mother?"
+
+"Gone out."
+
+"But I thought he would stay with you while I was away. Couldn't you
+keep him at home, mother? just this one day?"
+
+"I never try to influence your father's motions, Dolly. I never did.
+And it would be no use. Men do not bear that sort of thing."
+
+"What sort of thing?"
+
+"Interference. They never do. No man of any spunk does. They are all
+alike in that."
+
+"Do you mean that no man will give up any of his pleasure for a woman
+that he loves, and that loves him?"
+
+"While men are just in love, Dolly, and before they are married, they
+will make fools of themselves; and for a little while after. Then
+things fall into their regular train; and their regular train is as I
+tell you. Let a man alone, if you want to keep the peace and have a
+comfortable time, Dolly. I _never_ interfere with your father. I never
+did."
+
+Would it have been better if she had? Dolly queried. _She_ must
+interfere with him now, and it was hard. Dolly thought the wife might
+have done it easier than the daughter. She did not believe her father
+was looking up antiquities; she had not faith in his love of art; he
+could be on no good errand, she greatly feared. Christmas Day! and he
+would go out and leave his nervous, invalid wife to count her fingers
+in solitude; not even waiting till Dolly should be at home again. _Are_
+all men like that? Mr. Shubrick, for instance? But what was to be done?
+If Mr. Copley had found places and means of dissipation in Rome, then
+Rome was a safe abode for him no longer. Where would be a safe abode?
+Dolly's heart was bitter in its sorrow for a moment; then she gathered
+herself up.
+
+"Mother, do you like Rome?"
+
+"Why should I like it? I think we came away from Venice a great deal
+too soon. You would come, Dolly. There is nothing here, for me, but old
+tumbledown places; and the meals are not near so good as we had there
+in Venice. No, I'm sick and tired of Rome. I'm glad you've had a good
+Christmas Day; it's been forlorn to me."
+
+"I won't go again from you, mother. Will you like to make a visit to
+the Thayers at their villa?"
+
+"I don't know. Is Mr. St. Leger invited?"
+
+"Particularly."
+
+"And the other man?"
+
+"What other man?" said Dolly, laughing.
+
+"You know,--Christina's man."
+
+"He is asked. I do not know about his coming. He would if he could, he
+said. Why? do you want to see him?"
+
+"No."
+
+It was well on in the evening before Mr. Copley made his appearance.
+And then he was taciturn and not in an agreeable temper. The worse for
+wine he was not, in one sense; he was in no measure overcome by it; but
+Dolly knew that he had been taking it somewhere. O fathers! she
+thought, if you are not to "provoke your children to anger," neither
+ought you to drive them to despair; and you ought never, never, to let
+them blush for you! That I should be ashamed for _my father!_
+
+She said nothing that night but what was in the way of sweetest
+ministry to both father and mother. She talked of all that she had seen
+and done during her visit. She got out a supper of fruit, and would
+have them eat it. Not very easy work, for her father was glum and her
+mother unresponsive; but she did what could be done. Next day she
+proposed going on to Sorrento.
+
+"It does not agree very well with mother here; at least I do not think
+she is gaining; and she does not enjoy it."
+
+"You enjoy it, don't you?"
+
+"Oh yes; as far as that goes. But I care more for mother and you."
+
+"And I care for you, Dolly. No, no; we are old people; it doesn't
+signify a rush whether we like it or no. You are young, and you are
+here for once, in Rome, and I am not going away till you've seen it
+fairly. Don't you say so, mother, hey? Now she has got a good chance,
+she must use it."
+
+"I'm afraid it's expensive," put in Mrs. Copley.
+
+"Nonsense; no more than anywhere else. It'll be just about the same
+thing at Sorrento, or wherever you go. See all you can, Dolly. We'll
+stay."
+
+"I should think you would send Rupert home, at least," said his wife
+rather disconsolately; but true to her principles she put in no
+objection to her husband's pleasure. "We might save so much."
+
+"We shouldn't save anything. Rupert makes himself very useful; if we
+had not him, we should want some rogue of a courier. I'll keep Rupert.
+How he enjoys it, the dog!"
+
+Rupert was invaluable to Dolly, though she said nothing about it.
+Always ready to attend upon her, always devoted to her wishes, her
+intelligent companion, and her most faithful and efficient servant in
+making purchases of drawing materials or in disposing of her finished
+work. Dolly attempted to overrule the decision made ostensibly in her
+favour, that their stay in Rome should be prolonged; but had no
+success. Everybody, except only her mother, was against her. And though
+she feared sadly that her father's motive was twofold and regarded his
+own pleasure more than hers, she could not change the present status of
+things.
+
+They remained at Rome all winter. It was a winter of mingled delight
+and distress to Dolly; strangely mingled. The immediate money cares
+were lifted off; that was one thing. The family lived cheaply, and gave
+themselves few indulgences, but the bills were paid, somehow; and it
+was a perpetual indulgence only to be in Rome. How Dolly took the good
+of it, I have not room to describe. She was busy, too; she even worked
+hard. Before the Thayers went away, she had taken all their portraits;
+and with so much acceptance that they introduced her to other friends;
+and Dolly's custom grew to be considerable. It paid well, for her
+pictures were really exquisite. Her great natural gift had been trained
+judiciously, so far as it was trained at all, in America; and now
+necessity spurred her, and practice helped her, and habitually
+conscientious work lost no time, and maturing sense and feeling added
+constant new charm to her performances, discernment to her eye, and
+skill to her hand. Dolly was accumulating a little stock of money
+against a time of need; and the secret knowledge of this was a
+perpetual comfort.
+
+And when she gave herself play-time, how she played! Then, with her
+father if she could get him, or with Rupert if, as most often was the
+case, Mr. Copley was out of the way or indisposed for sight-seeing,
+Dolly went about the old city, drinking in pleasure; revelling in
+historical associations, which were always a hobby of hers; feasting
+with untiring enjoyment on the wonders of architecture old and new; or
+in churches and galleries losing herself in rapt ecstasy before this or
+that marvel of the painter's art. It was a wonderful winter to Dolly.
+Many a young lady has passed the same season in the same place, but it
+is only one here and there who finds the hundredth part of the mental
+food and delectation that Dolly found. Day by day she was growing, and
+knew it; in delicacy of appreciation, in tenderness of feeling, in
+power of soul to grasp, in largeness of heart to love, in courage to do
+and suffer. For all Dolly's studying and enjoying she did in the light
+of Bible truth and the enriching of heavenly influences; and so, in
+pictures of the old masters and creations of the grand architects of
+old and new time, she found truth and teaching and testimony utterly
+missed by those who have not the right key. It is the same with nature
+and with all the great arts; for Truth is one; and if you are quite
+ignorant of her in her highest and grandest revelations, you cannot by
+possibility understand the more subordinate and initiative. Some dim
+sense of the hidden mystery, some vague appreciation of the outward
+beauty of the language without getting at its expressed meaning, or but
+very partially, just so far as you have the key; that is all there is
+for you.
+
+In all Dolly's horizon there was but one cloud. Lawrence was one of the
+company, it is true, almost one of the family; treated with greatest
+consideration and familiarity by both father and mother. But Dolly was
+not a weak young woman. She knew her own mind, and she had given
+Lawrence to know it; she was in no confusion about him, and her
+conscience was clear. Lawrence was also enjoying Rome, after his own
+fashion; if he was staying for her, Dolly did not know it, and it was
+not her fault.
+
+So her one only shadow upon the brightness at Rome came from her
+father. Not that he went into any great excesses; or if he did, they
+were hidden from Dolly; but he indulged himself, she knew, in one at
+least of his mischievous pleasures. She had no reason to suppose that
+he gambled; as I said, there was always money to discharge the weekly
+bills; but he found wine somewhere and drank it; that was certain; and
+when did ever evil habits stand still? If he kept within bounds now,
+who should warrant her that he would continue to do so? Mr. Copley came
+home sometimes cheerful and disposed to be merry; he had taken only
+enough to exhilarate him; at other times he came home gloomy and cross,
+and then Dolly knew he had drunk enough to confuse his head and
+slightly disturb his conscience. What could she do? She clenched her
+little hands sometimes when she was walking the streets, and sometimes
+she wrung them in impotent grief. She strove to win her father to share
+in her pleasures; with little success. She was lovely to him as a
+daughter could be, always; and at the same time she let him see by her
+grave face and subdued manner when he came home with the breath of wine
+upon his lips, that she was troubled and grieved. What more could she
+do? So her winter was a complication of great enjoyment with anxiety
+and mortification.
+
+About the end of March they left the delightful old city and set off
+southwards. To Sorrento, was Dolly's fond hope. But when they got to
+Naples, she found that all the men of the party were against proceeding
+further, at least before the pleasures and novelties of that place had
+also bean tasted.
+
+"There's a famous museum here, Dolly," said her father. "You could not
+pass that?"
+
+"And Pompeii--don't you want to see Pompeii?" cried Rupert.
+
+"It will be pleasanter at Sorrento later in the season," said Lawrence;
+"much pleasanter. Wait till it grows warm here; then Sorrento will be
+delightful. We are taking everything just at the right time."
+
+"And it is as beautiful here as you can find anything," added Mr.
+Copley. "You want to look at the bay of Naples, now you have the
+chance."
+
+Yes, said Dolly to herself, and they say the wines are good at Naples
+too! But she gave up the question. They established themselves in a
+hotel.
+
+"For how long, I wonder?" said Mrs. Copley to Dolly when they were
+alone. "It seems as if I wasn't going to get to Sorrento. I don't know
+what I expect there, either, I am sure; only we set out to go to
+Sorrento for my health; and here we are in Naples after five months of
+wandering and lounging about! and here we are going to stay, it seems."
+
+"The wandering and lounging about was very good for you, mother, dear.
+You are a great deal improved in your looks."
+
+"I wish I was in my feelings."
+
+"You are, aren't you?"
+
+"What does your father want to do in Naples?"
+
+"I don't know. They all want to stay here a while, you see. And,
+mother, don't you enjoy this wonderful view?" For their windows
+commanded the bay.
+
+"I'd rather see Boston harbour, by half."
+
+"Oh, so would I!--on some accounts. But, mother, it is a great thing to
+see Naples."
+
+"So your father thinks. Men never do know what they want; only it is
+always something they haven't got."
+
+"We're in Naples, though, mother."
+
+"We shan't be long."
+
+"Well, we don't _want_ to be here long, mother."
+
+"I'd like to be still somewheres. Your father'd as lieve be anywhere
+else as at home; but I like to see my own fire burn. I don't know as I
+ever shall again. Unless you'll marry Mr. St. Leger, Dolly. That would
+bring all right, at one stroke." From which suggestion Dolly always
+escaped as fast as possible.
+
+It turned out that they were to stay a good while at Naples. Perhaps
+Mr. Copley feared the seclusion of a private house at Sorrento. However
+that were, he seemed to find motives to detain him where he was, and
+Lawrence St. Leger was nothing loth. The days went by, till Dolly
+herself grew impatient. They went very much after the former manner, as
+far as the gentlemen were concerned; Lawrence found society, and Mr.
+Copley too, naturally, took pleasure in meeting a good many people to
+whom he was known. What other pleasure he took in their company Dolly
+could but guess; with him things went on very much as they had done in
+Rome.
+
+With her, not. Dolly knew nobody, kept close by her mother, who
+eschewed all society, and so of course had no likenesses to paint. She
+worked busily at the other sort of painting which had engaged her in
+Venice; made lovely little pictures of Naples; rather of bits of
+Naples; characteristic bits; which were done with so much truth and
+grace that Rupert without difficulty disposed of them to the fancy
+dealers. The time of photographs was not yet; and Dolly made money
+steadily. She enjoyed this work greatly. Her other pleasures were found
+in walks about the city, and in visits to the museum. There was not in
+Naples the wealth of art objects which had been so inexhaustible in
+Rome; nevertheless, the museum furnished an interest all its own; and
+Dolly went there day after day. Indeed, the interest grew; and objects
+which at her first going she passed carelessly by, at the fourth or
+fifth she began to study with intent interest. The small bronzes found
+at Pompeii were pored over by her and Rupert till they almost knew the
+several pieces by heart, and had constructed over them a whole system
+of the ways of private life in those old days when they were made and
+used. Dolly often managed to persuade her father to be her escort when
+she went to the museum; and Mr. Copley would go patiently, for Dolly's
+sake, seeing the extreme delight it afforded her; but Mr. Copley was
+not always to be had, and then Dolly chose certain parts of the
+collection which she and Rupert could study together. So they gave a
+great deal of time to the collection of coins; not at first, but by
+degrees drawn on. So with the famous collection of antique bronzes.
+Rupert looked on these in the beginning with a depreciating eye.
+
+"What's the fun here? I don't get at it," he remarked.
+
+"O Rupert! the beauty of the things."
+
+"They are what I call right homely. What a colour they have got. Is it
+damp, or what?"
+
+"Don't you know? these dark ones come from Herculaneum, and were locked
+up in lava; the others, the greenish ones, are from Pompeii, where the
+covering was lighter and they were exposed to damp, as you say."
+
+"Well, I suppose they are curious, being so ancient."
+
+"Rupert, they are most beautiful."
+
+But Rupert as well as Dolly found a mine of interest in the Greek and
+gladiatorial armour and weapons.
+
+"It makes my head turn!" said Rupert.
+
+"What?"
+
+"Why, it is eighteen hundred years ago. To think that men lived and
+fought with those helmets and weapons and shields, so long back! and
+now here are the shields and helmets, but where are the men?"
+
+Dolly said nothing.
+
+"Do you think they are anywhere?"
+
+"Certainly!" said Dolly, turning upon him. "As certainly as they wore
+that armour once."
+
+"Where, then?"
+
+"I can't tell you that. The Bible and the ancients call it Hades--the
+place of departed spirits."
+
+"But here are their shields,--and folks come and look at them."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"It gives one a sort of queer feeling."
+
+"Yes," said Dolly. "One of those helmets may have belonged to a
+conqueror, and another may have been unclasped from a dead gladiator's
+head. And it don't matter much to either of them now."
+
+"It seems as if nothing in the world mattered much," said Rupert.
+
+"It don't!" said Dolly quickly. "'The world passeth away, and the lust
+thereof; but he that doeth the will of God abideth for ever.'"
+
+"You think such a one is better off than the rest?" said Rupert. "How?
+You say the rest are living somewhere."
+
+"Existing."
+
+"What's the difference?"
+
+"Just all the difference between light and darkness;--or between life
+and death. You would not call it living, if all joy and hope were gone
+out of existence; you would wish that existence could end."
+
+"How do you know all about it so well, Miss Dolly?" the young man asked
+a little incredulously.
+
+"Rupert, it begins in this world. I know a little of the difference
+now. I never was where all joy and hope were gone out of
+existence--though I have seen trouble," said Dolly gravely. "But I _do_
+know that nothing in this world is so good as the love of Christ; and
+that without Him life is not life."
+
+"People seem to have a good time without it," said Rupert.
+
+"For a little. How would they be, do you think, if all their pleasures
+were taken away?--their money, and all their money gets for them;
+friends and all?"
+
+"Wretched dogs," said Rupert.
+
+"But nobody in the world that loved Christ was ever that," Dolly said,
+smiling.
+
+There was in her smile something so tender and triumphant at once, that
+it silenced Rupert. It was a testimony quite beyond words. For that
+instant Dolly's spirit looked out of the transparent features, and the
+light went to Rupert's heart like an arrow. Dolly moved on, and he
+followed, not looking at the gladiators' shields or Greek armour.
+
+"Then, Miss Dolly," he burst out, after his thoughts had been seething
+a little while,--"if this world is so little count, what's the use of
+anything that men do? what's the good of studying--or of working--or of
+coming to look at these old things?--or of doing anything else, but
+just religion?"
+
+Dolly's eyes sparkled, but she laughed a little.
+
+"You cannot 'do' religion that way, Rupert," she said. "The old monks
+made a mistake. What is the use? Why, if you are going to be a servant
+of Christ and spend your life in working for Him, won't you be the very
+best and most beautiful servant you can? Do you think a savage has as
+much power or influence in the world as an educated, accomplished,
+refined man? Would he do as much, or do it as well? If you are going to
+give yourself to Christ, won't you make the offering as valuable and as
+honourable as you can? That is what you would do if you were giving
+yourself to a woman, Rupert. I know you would."
+
+Rupert had no chance to answer, for strangers drew near, and Dolly and
+he passed on. Perhaps he did not wish to answer.
+
+There were other times when Dolly visited the museum with her father.
+Then she studied the frescoes from Pompeii, the marble sculptures, or
+sat before some few of the pictures in the collections of the old
+masters. Mr. Copley was patient, admiring her if he admired nothing
+else; but even he did admire and enjoy some of the works of art in
+which the museum is so rich; and one day he and Dolly had a rare bit of
+talk over the collection of ancient glass. Such hours made Dolly only
+the more grieved and distressed when she afterwards perceived that her
+father had been solacing himself with other and very much lower
+pleasures.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+SORRENTO.
+
+It was not till the end of May that they got away from Naples. Mrs.
+Copley was long tired of her stay there, and even, she said, tired of
+the bay! Dolly was glad to have her father at a distance from hotels
+and acquaintances, even though but for a time; and the gentlemen liked
+moving, as men always do. So the little party in the carriage were in
+very good spirits and harmony. Rupert had gone on before with the
+luggage, to make sure that all was right about the rooms and everything
+ready. They were engaged in the house to which Lady Brierley's
+housekeeper had given them the address.
+
+The day was one of those which travellers tell us of in the south of
+Italy, when spring is in its glory or passing into summer. In truth,
+the weather was very warm; but Dolly at least never regarded that, in
+her delight at the views presented to her. After Castellamare was
+passed, and as the afternoon wore on, her interest grew with every
+step. Villages and towns, rocks and trees, were steeped in a wonderful
+golden light; vineyards and olive groves were etherialised; and when
+they drew near to Meta, and the plain of Sorrento opened before them,
+Dolly hung out of the carriage almost breathless.
+
+"Is it better than the bay of Naples?" asked Lawrence, smiling.
+
+"I am not comparing," said Dolly. "But look at the trees! Did you ever
+see such beautiful woods?"
+
+"Hardly woods, are they?" said Lawrence. "There's variety, certainly."
+
+"Said to be a very healthy place," remarked Mr. Copley. "I envy you,
+Dolly. You can get pleasure out of a stick, if it has leaves on it.
+Naturally, the plain of Sorrento---- But this sun, I confess, makes me
+wish for the journey's end."
+
+"That is not far off, father. Yonder is Sorrento."
+
+And soon the carriage rolled into the town, and turning then aside
+brought them to a house on the outskirts of the place, situated on a
+rocky cliff overhanging the shore of the sea. Rupert met them at the
+gate, and announced a neat house, civil people, comfortable lodgings,
+and dinner getting ready.
+
+"I only hope they will not give us maccaroni with tomatoes," said Mrs.
+Copley. "I am so tired of seeing maccaroni with tomatoes."
+
+"Don't mind for to-day, mother, dear," said Dolly. "We'll have it all
+right to-morrow."
+
+The rooms were found so pleasant, bright and clean, that even Mrs.
+Copley was satisfied. The dinner, which was ready for them as soon as
+they were ready for it, proved also excellent; with plenty of fresh
+vegetables and fruit. Till the meal was over, Dolly had scarce a chance
+to see where she was; but then she left the others at the table and
+went out at the open glass door upon a piazza which extended all along
+the sea front of the house. Here she stood still and cried to the
+others to follow her. The house was built, as I said, like many houses
+in Sorrento, on the edge of a rocky cliff, from which there was fair,
+unhindered view over the whole panorama of sea and land. The sun was
+descending the western sky, and the flood of Italian light seemed to
+transfigure the world. Between the verandah and the absolute edge of
+the rocks, the space was filled with beds of flowers and shrubbery; and
+a little a one side, so as not to interrupt the view, were fig-trees
+and pomegranate-trees and olives. Dolly ran down the steps into the
+garden, and the rest of the party could not but come after her. Dolly's
+face was flushed with delight.
+
+"Did anybody ever see such colours before?" she cried. "Oh, the
+colours! Look at the blue of the water, down there in the shade; and
+then see that delicious green beyond, set off by its fringe of white
+foam; and then where the sun strikes, and where the clouds are
+reflected."
+
+"It is just what you have been seeing in the bay of Naples," said Mrs.
+Copley.
+
+"And Vesuvius, mother! Do look at Vesuvius; how noble it is from here,
+and in this light."
+
+"We had Vesuvius at Naples too," said Mrs. Copley. "It is a wonder to
+me how people can be so fond of being near it, when you never know what
+tricks it will play you."
+
+"Mother, dear, the lava _never_ comes so far as this, in the worst
+eruptions."
+
+"The fact that it never did does not prove what it may do some time."
+
+"You are not afraid of it, surely?" said Mr. Copley.
+
+"No," said his wife. "But I have no pleasure in looking at anything
+that has done, and is going to do, so much mischief. It seems to me a
+kind of monster."
+
+"You cannot be fond of the sea, at that rate, Mrs. Copley," Lawrence
+observed.
+
+"No, you are right," she said. "The only thing I like about it is, that
+it is the way home."
+
+"You don't want to see the way home just now, my dear," said Mr.
+Copley. "You have but now got to the place of your desires."
+
+"If you ask me what that is, it is Boston," said Mrs. Copley.
+
+But, however, for a while she did take satisfaction in the quiet and
+beauty and sweet air of Sorrento. Dolly revelled in it all. She was
+devoted to her mother and her mother's pleasure, it is true; and here
+as at Rome and Naples she was thus kept a good deal in the house.
+Nevertheless, here, at Sorrento, she tempted her mother to go out. A
+little carriage was procured to take her to the edge of one of the
+ravines which on three sides enclose the town; and then Dolly and her
+mother, with Rupert's help, would wind their way down amid the
+wilderness of lovely vegetation with which the sides and bottom of the
+ravine were grown. At the bottom of the dell they would provide Mrs.
+Copley with a soft bed of moss or a convenient stone to rest upon;
+while the younger people roved all about, gathering flowers, or finding
+something for Dolly to sketch, and coming back ever and anon to Mrs.
+Copley to show what they had found or tell what they had seen; and Mrs.
+Copley for the time forgot her ills, and even forgot Boston, and was
+amused, and enjoyed the warm air and the luxuriant and sweet nature of
+Italy. Sometimes Lawrence came instead of Rupert; and Dolly did not
+enjoy herself so well. But Lawrence was at his own risk now; she could
+not take care of him. Except by maintaining her calm, careless,
+disengaged manner; and that she did. There were other times when Dolly
+and Rupert went out in a boat on the sea. Steps in the rock led
+immediately down from the garden to the shore; on the shore were
+fishermen's huts, and a boat was always to be had. Long expeditions by
+water could not be undertaken, for Mrs. Copley could not be tempted out
+on the sea, and she might not be long left alone; but there were lovely
+hours, when Rupert rowed the boat over the golden and purple waves,
+when all the air seemed rosy and all the sea enamelled, and the sky and
+the clouds (as Rupert said) were as if they had come out of a fairy
+book; every colour was floating there and sending down a paradise of
+broken rainbows upon water and land and the heads of the two
+pleasure-takers.
+
+But even at Sorrento there was a shadow over Dolly.
+
+For the first weeks the gentlemen, that is, Mr. Copley and his supposed
+secretary, made numerous excursions. Mrs. Copley utterly declined to
+take part in anything that could be called an excursion; and Dolly
+would not go without her. Lawrence and Mr. Copley therefore went
+whither they would alone, and saw everything that could be seen within
+two or three days of Sorrento; for they were gone sometimes as long as
+that. They took provisions with them; and Dolly sadly feared, nay, she
+knew, that wines formed a large part of their travelling stock on these
+occasions; she feared, even, no small part of the attraction of them.
+Mr. Copley generally came back not exactly the same as when he went;
+there was an indescribable look and air which made Dolly's heart turn
+cold; a disreputable air of license, as if he had been indulging
+himself in spite of strong pledges given, and in disregard of gentle
+influences that were trying to deter him. And when he had not been on
+excursions, Dolly often knew that he had found his favourite beverage
+somewhere and was a trifle the worse for it. What could she do? she
+asked herself with a feeling almost of desperation. She had done all
+she knew; what remained? Her father was well aware how she felt. Yet
+no! not that. He could not have the faintest conception of the torture
+he gave his daughter by making her ashamed of him, nor of the fearful
+dread which lay upon her of what his habit of indulgence might end in.
+If he _had_, Mr. Copley could not, at this stage of things at least,
+have borne it. He must have yielded up anything or borne anything,
+rather than that she should bear this. But he was a man, and could not
+guess it; if he had been told, he would not have understood it; so he
+had his pleasure, and his child's heart was torn with sorrow and shame.
+
+There came a day at last when in their lodgings Mr. Copley called for a
+bottle of wine at dinner. Dolly's heart gave a great jump.
+
+"O father, we do not want wine!" she cried pleadingly.
+
+"I do," said Mr. Copley, "and St. Leger does. Nonsense, my dear! no
+gentleman takes his dinner without his wine. Isn't it so, Lawrence?"
+
+And the wine was brought, and the two gentlemen helped themselves. Mrs.
+Copley accepted a little; Rupert,--Dolly looked to see what he would
+do,--Rupert quietly put it by.
+
+So it had come to this again. Not all her prayers and tears and known
+wishes could hold her father back from his desire. The desire must
+already be very strong! Dolly kept her composure with difficulty. She
+ate no more dinner. And it was a relief to thoughts she could scarcely
+bear, when Rupert in the evening asked her to go out and take a row on
+the water.
+
+Such an evening as it was! Dolly ran gladly down the rocky steps which
+led to the shore, and eagerly followed Rupert into the boat. She
+thought to escape from her trouble for a while. Instead of that, when
+the boat got away from the shore, and Dolly was floating on the crimson
+and purple sea, with a flush of crimson and purple sent down upon her
+from the clouds, and everything in the world glowing with colour or
+tipped with gold,--her face as she gazed into the glory took such an
+expression of wan despair, that Rupert forgot where he was. Greatly he
+longed to say something to break up that look; and could not find the
+words. The beauty and the peace of the external world wrought, as it
+sometimes does, by the power of contrast; and had set Dolly to thinking
+of her father and of his and her very doubtful future. What would
+become of him if his present manner of life went on?--and what would
+become of his wife and of her? What could she do, more than she had
+done, in vain? Dolly tried to think, and could not find. Suddenly, by
+some sweet association of rays of light, there came into her mind the
+night before Christmas, and the moonshine in Christina's room, and the
+words that were so good to her then. "Who shall separate us from the
+love of Christ?" Yes, thought Dolly,--that is sure. Nothing can come
+between. Nothing can take _that_ joy from me; "neither death nor life;
+nor things present, nor things to come." But, oh! I wish my father and
+mother had it too!--With that came a rush of tears to her eyes; she
+turned her face away from Rupert so that he might not see them. Had she
+done anything, made any efforts, to bring them to that knowledge? With
+her mother, yes; with her father, no. It had seemed hopelessly
+difficult. How could she set about it? As she pondered this question,
+Rupert saw that the expression of her face had changed, and now he
+ventured to speak.
+
+"Miss Dolly, you set me a thinking in Rome."
+
+"Did I?" said Dolly, brightening. "About what?"
+
+"And in Naples you drove the nail further in."
+
+"What nail? what are you talking about, Rupert?"
+
+"Do you remember what you said when we were coming from the Capitoline
+Museum? We were looking at the Colosseum."
+
+"I do not recollect."
+
+"I do. You drove the nail in then; and when we were in Naples, at the
+museum there, you gave it another hit. It's in now."
+
+Dolly could not help laughing.
+
+"You are quite a riddle, Rupert. I make nothing of it."
+
+"Miss Dolly, I've been thinking that I will go home."
+
+"Home?" And Dolly's face now grew very grave indeed.
+
+"Yes. I've been splitting my head thinking; and I've about made up my
+mind. I think I'll go home." Rupert was very serious too, and pulled
+the oars with a leisurely, mechanical stroke, which showed he was not
+thinking of _them_.
+
+"What home? London, do you mean?"
+
+"Well, not exactly. I should think not! No, I mean Boston, or Lynn
+rather. There's my old mother."
+
+"Oh!--your mother," said Dolly slowly. "And she is at Lynn. Is she
+_alone_ there?"
+
+"She's been alone ever since I left her; and I'm thinking that's what
+she hadn't ought to be."
+
+Dolly paused. The indication seemed to be, that Rupert was taking up
+the notion of duty; duty towards others as well as pleasure for
+himself; and a great throb of gladness came up in her heart, along with
+the sudden shadow of what was not gladness.
+
+"I think you are quite right, Rupert," she said soberly. "Then you are
+purposing to go back to Lynn to take care of her?"
+
+"I set out to see the world and to be something," Rupert went on,
+looking thoughtfully out to sea;--"and I've done one o' the two. I've
+seen the world. I don' know as I should ever be anything, if I staid in
+it. But your talk that day--those days--wouldn't go out of my head; and
+I thought I'd give it up, and go home to my old mother."
+
+"I'll tell you what I think, Rupert," said Dolly; "a man is a great
+deal more likely to come out right in the end and 'be something,' if he
+follows God's plan for him, than if he makes a plan for himself.
+Anyhow, I'd rather have that 'Well done,' by and by"---- She stopped.
+
+"How's a man to find out God's plan for him?"
+
+"Just the way you are doing. When work is set before you, take hold of
+it. When the Lord has some more for you He'll let you know."
+
+"Then you think this _is_ my work, Miss Dolly, to go home and take care
+of her? She wanted me to make a man of myself; and when Mr. Copley made
+me his offer, she didn't hold me back. But she cried some!"
+
+"You cannot do another so manly a thing as this, Rupert. I wouldn't let
+her cry any more, if I were you."
+
+"No more I ain't a-goin' to," said the young man energetically. "But,
+Miss Dolly"----
+
+"What?"
+
+"Do you think it is my duty, because I do one thing, to do t'other? Do
+you think I ought to take to shoemaking?"
+
+"Why to shoemaking, Rupert?"
+
+"Well, my father was a shoemaker. They're all shoemakers at Lynn,
+pretty much."
+
+"That is no reason why you should be. Your education, the education you
+have got since you came over to this side, has fitted you for something
+else, if you like something else better."
+
+"That's just what I do!" said Rupert with emphasis. "But I could make a
+good living that way--I was brought up to it, you see;--and I s'pose
+_she'd_ like me to take up the old business; but I feel like driving an
+awl through a board whenever I think of it."
+
+"I wouldn't do it, Rupert, if I could do something I was more fit for.
+People always do things best that they like to do. I think the choice
+of a business is your affair. Do what you can do best. But I'd make
+shoes rather than do nothing."
+
+"I don't know what I am fit for," said Rupert, evidently relieved,
+"but--oh yes, I would _cobble_ shoes rather than do nothing. I don't
+want to eat idle bread. Then I'll go."
+
+"Your experience here, in London and on this journey, will not have
+been lost to you," Dolly observed.
+
+"It's been the best thing ever happened to me, this journey," said the
+young man. "And you've done me more good, Miss Dolly, than anybody in
+this world,--if it ain't my mother."
+
+"I? I am very glad. I am sure you have done a great deal for me,
+Rupert."
+
+"You have put me upon thinking. And till a fellow begins to think, he
+ain't much more good than a cabbage."
+
+"When will you go, Rupert? I wish we were going too!"
+
+"Well, I guess my old mother has sat lookin' for me long enough. I
+guess I'll start pretty soon."
+
+"Will you?" said Dolly. "But not before we have made our visit to Mrs.
+Thayer's villa? We are going there next week."
+
+"I'll start then, I guess."
+
+"And not go with us to the Thayers'?"
+
+"I guess not."
+
+"Didn't they invite you?"
+
+"Not a bit of it! Took good care not, I should say."
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"Well, Miss Dolly, Mrs. Thayer was standing two feet from me and asking
+Mr. St. Leger, and she didn't look my way till she had got through and
+was talking of something else; and then she looked as if I had been a
+pane of glass and she was seeing something on the other side--as I
+suppose she was."
+
+Dolly was silent for a few minutes and then she said, "How I shall miss
+you, Rupert!"--and tears were near, though she would not let them come.
+
+And Rupert made no answer at all, but rowed the boat in.
+
+Yes, Dolly knew she would miss him sadly. He had been her helper and
+standby and agent and escort and friend, in many a place now, and on
+many an occasion. He had done for her what there was no one else to do,
+ever since that first evening when he had made his appearance at
+Brierley and she had wished him away. So little do people recognise
+their blessings often at first sight. Now,--Dolly pondered as she
+climbed the cliff,--how would she get along without Rupert? How long
+would her father even be content to abide with her mother and her in
+their quiet way of living? she had seen symptoms of restlessness
+already. What should she do if he became impatient? if he left them to
+St. Leger's care and went back to London? or if he carried them off
+with him perhaps? To London again! And then afresh came the former
+question, what was there in her power, that might draw her father to
+take deeper and truer views of life and duty than he was taking now? A
+question that greatly bothered Dolly; for there was dimly looming up in
+the distance an answer that she did not like. To attack her father in
+private on the subject of religion, was a step that Dolly thought very
+hopeless; he simply would not hear her. But there was another thing she
+could do--could she do it? Persuade her father and mother to consent to
+have family prayer? Dolly's heart beat and her breath came quick as she
+passed through the little garden, sweet with roses and oleander and
+orange blossoms. How sweet the flowers were! how heavenly fair the sky
+over her head! So it ought to be in people's hearts, thought Dolly;--so
+in mine. And if it were, I should not be afraid of anything that was
+right to do. And this _is_ right to do.
+
+Dolly avoided the saloon where the rest of the family were, and betook
+herself to her own room; to consider and to pray over her difficulties,
+and also to get rid of a few tears and bring her face into its usual
+cheerful order. When at last she went down, she found her mother alone,
+but her father almost immediately joined them. The windows were open
+towards the sea, the warm, delicious air stole in caressingly, the
+scent of roses and orange blossoms and carnations filled the house and
+seemed to fill the world; moonlight trembled on the leaves of the
+fig-tree, and sent lines of silver light into the room. The lamp was
+lowered and Mrs. Copley sat doing nothing, in a position of satisfied
+enjoyment by the window.
+
+As Dolly came in by one door, Mr. Copley entered by another, and flung
+himself down on a chair; his action speaking neither enjoyment nor
+satisfaction.
+
+"Well!" said he. "How much longer do you think you can stand this sort
+of thing?"
+
+"What sort of thing, father?"
+
+"Do you sit in the dark usually?"
+
+"Come here, father," said Dolly, "come to the window and see the
+moonshine on the sea. Do you call that dark?"
+
+"Your father never cared for moonshine, Dolly," said Mrs. Copley.
+
+"No, that's true," said Mr. Copley with a short laugh. "Haven't you got
+almost enough of it?"
+
+"Of moonshine, father?"
+
+"Yes--on the bay of Sorrento. It's a lazy place."
+
+"You have not been very lazy since you have been here," said his wife.
+
+"Well, I have seen all there is to be seen; and now I am ready for
+something else. Aren't you?"
+
+"But, father," said Dolly, "I suppose, just because Sorrento is what
+you call a lazy place it is good for mother."
+
+"Change is good for her too--hey, wife?"
+
+"You will have a change next week, father; you know we are going for
+that visit to the Thayers."
+
+"We shall not want to stay there long," said Mr. Copley; "and then
+we'll move."
+
+Nobody answered. Dolly looked out sorrowfully upon the beautiful bright
+water. Sorrento had been a place of peace to her. Must she go so soon?
+The scent of myrtles and roses and oranges came in bewilderingly at the
+open window, pleading the cause of "lazy" Sorrento with wonderfully
+persuasive flatteries. Was there any other place in the world so sweet?
+Dolly clung to it, in heart; yearned towards it; the glories of the
+southern sun were what she had never imagined, and she longed to stay
+to enjoy and wonder at them. The fruits, the flowers, the sunny air,
+the fulness and variedness of the colouring on land and sea, the
+leisure and luxury of bountiful nature,--Dolly was loath, loath to
+leave them all. No other Sorrento, she was ready to believe, would ever
+reveal itself to her vision; and she shrank a little from the somewhat
+rough way she had been travelling before and must travel again. And now
+in the further way, Rupert, her helper and standby, would not be with
+her. Then again came the words of Christmas Eve to her--"Who shall
+separate us from the love of Christ?"--and with the words came the
+recollection of the new bit of service Dolly had found to do in her
+return and answer to that love. Yet she hesitated, and her heart began
+to beat faster, and she made no move until her father began to ask if
+it were not time to leave the moonlight and go to bed. Dolly came from
+the window, then to the table where the lowered lamp stood.
+
+"Mother and father, I should like to do something," she said with an
+interrupted breath. "Would you mind--may I--will you let me read a
+chapter to you before we go?"
+
+"A chapter of what?" said her father; though he knew well enough.
+
+"The Bible."
+
+There was a pause. Mrs. Copley stirred uneasily, but left the answer
+for her husband to give. It came at last, coldly.
+
+"There is no need for you to give yourself that trouble, my dear. I
+suppose we can all read the Bible for ourselves."
+
+"But not as a family, father?"
+
+"What do you mean, Dolly?"
+
+"Father, don't you think we ought together, as a family,--don't you
+think we ought to read the Bible together? It concerns us all."
+
+"It's very kind of you, my daughter; but I approve of everybody
+managing his own affairs," Mr. Copley said, as he rose and lounged,
+perhaps with affected carelessness, out of the room. Dolly stood a
+moment.
+
+"May I read to you, mother?"
+
+"If you like," said Mrs. Copley nervously; "though I don't see, as your
+father says, why we cannot every one read for ourselves. Why did you
+say that to your father, Dolly? He didn't like it."
+
+Dolly made no reply. She knelt down by the low table to bring her Bible
+near the light, and read a psalm, her voice quivering a little. She
+wanted comfort for herself, and half unconsciously she chose the
+twenty-seventh psalm.
+
+"'The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord
+is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?'"
+
+Her voice grew steady as she went on; but when she has finished, her
+mother was crying.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+AT THE VILLA.
+
+The place inhabited by the Thayers was a regular Italian villa. It had
+not been at all in order that suited English notions of comfort, or
+American either, when they moved in; but they had painted and matted
+and furnished, and filled the rooms with pretty things, pictures and
+statues and vases and flowers; till it looked now quite beautiful and
+festive. Its situation was perfect. The house stood high, on the shore
+overlooking the sea, with a full view of Vesuvius, and it was
+surrounded with a paradise of orange-trees, fig-trees, pomegranates,
+olives, oaks and oleanders, with roses and a multitude of other
+flowers; in a wealth of sweetness and luxuriance of growth that
+northern climes know nothing of. The reception the visitors met with
+was joyous.
+
+"I am so glad you are come!" cried Christina, as she carried off Dolly
+through the hall to her particular room. "That bad boy, Sandie, has not
+reported yet; but he will come; and then we will go everywhere. Have
+you been everywhere already?"
+
+"I have been nowhere. I have staid with mother, and she wanted to be
+quiet."
+
+"Well, she can be quiet now with my mother; they can take care of each
+other. And you have not been to Capri?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Just think of it! How delightful! You have not seen the Grotta
+azzurra?"
+
+"I have seen nothing."
+
+"Nor the grotto of the Sirens? You have seen _that?_ It was so near."
+
+"No, I have not. I have been nowhere; only with mother to gather ferns
+and flowers in the dells around Sorrento. We used to take mother in a
+donkey cart--a calessino--to the edge of the side of the dell, and then
+help her down, and get loads of flowers and ferns. It was very
+pleasant."
+
+"I wish Sandie would only come--the tiresome fellow! There's no
+counting on him. But he will come. He said he would if he could, and he
+can of course. I suppose you have not visited Paestum yet then?"
+
+"I believe father went there. We did not."
+
+"Nor we, yet. I don't care so much--only I like to keep going--but
+father is crazy to see the ruins. You know the ruins are wonderful. Do
+you care for ruins?"
+
+"I believe I do," said Dolly, smiling, "when the ruins are of something
+beautiful. And those Greek temples--oh, I _should_ like to see them."
+
+"I would rather see beautiful things when they are perfect; not in
+ruins; ruins are sad, don't you think so?"
+
+"I suppose they ought to be," said Dolly, laughing now. "But somehow,
+Christina, I believe the ruins give me more pleasure than if they were
+all new and perfect--or even old and perfect. It is a perverse taste, I
+suppose, but I do."
+
+"Why? They are not so handsome in ruins."
+
+"They are lovelier."
+
+"Lovely!--for old ruins! I can understand papa's enthusiasm; he's a
+kind of antiquity worshipper; but you--and 'lovely!'"
+
+"And interesting, Christina. Ruins tell of so much; they are such grand
+books of history, and witnesses for things gone by. But beautiful--oh
+yes, beautiful beyond all others, if you talk of buildings. What is St.
+Peter's, compared to the Colosseum?"
+
+Christina stared at her friend. "What is St. Peter's? A most
+magnificent work of modern art, I should say; and you compare it to a
+tumbledown old bit of barbarism. That's _too_ like Sandie. Do you and
+your friend agree as harmoniously as Sandie and I? We ought to
+exchange."
+
+"I have no 'friend,' as you express it," said Dolly, pulling her
+wayward, curling locks into a little more order. "Mr. St. Leger is
+nothing to me--if you are speaking of him."
+
+"I am sure, if he told the truth, he would not say that of you," said
+Christina, looking with secret admiration at the figure before her. It
+was a rare kind of beauty, not of the stereotyped or formal sort; like
+one of the dainty old vases of alabaster, elegant in form and delicate
+and exquisite in chiselling and design, with a pure inner light showing
+through. That was not the comparison in Christina's mind, and indeed
+she made none; but women's eyes are sometimes sharp to see feminine
+beauty; and she confessed that Dolly's was uncommon, not merely in
+degree but in kind. There was nothing conventional about it; there
+never had been; her curling hair took a wayward way of its own; her
+brown eyes had a look of thoughtfulness mingled with childlike
+innocence; they always had it more or less; now the wisdom was more
+sweet and the innocence more spiritual. Her figure and her manner were
+all in harmony, wearing unconscious grace and a very simple, free
+dignity.
+
+"We cannot go to Paestum at this season of the year, they say,"
+Christina began again, at a distance from her thoughts; "but one _can_
+go to the Punta di Campanella and Monte San Costanzo; and as soon as
+Sandie comes, we will. We will wait a day for him first."
+
+Dolly was quite willing to wait for him; for, to tell the truth, one of
+her pleasures in the thought of this visit had been the possibility of
+seeing Mr. Shubrick again. She did not say so, however; and the two
+girls presently went back to the hall. This was a luxurious apartment,
+occupying the centre of the house; octagonal, and open to the outer
+world both at front and back. Warm and yet fresh air was playing
+through it; the odours of flowers filled it; the most commodious of
+light chairs and settees furnished it; and scattered about the wide,
+delicious space were the various members of the party. Mrs. Thayer and
+Mrs. Copley had been sitting together; just now, as the girls entered,
+Mrs. Thayer called St. Leger to her.
+
+"I am delighted to see you here, Mr. St. Leger," she said graciously.
+"You know your father was a very old friend of mine."
+
+"That gives me a sort of claim to your present kindness," said St.
+Leger.
+
+"You might put in a claim to kindness anywhere," returned the lady.
+"Don't you get it, now, if you tell the truth?"
+
+"I have no reason to complain--in general," said the young man, smiling.
+
+"You are a little like your father. He was another. We were great
+cronies when I was a girl. In fact, he was an old beau of mine. We used
+to see a vast deal of each other;--flirting, I suppose you would call
+it; but how are young people to get along without flirting? I liked him
+very much, for I always had a fancy for handsome men; and if you ask
+him, he will tell you that I was handsome too at that time. Oh, I was!
+you may look at me and be incredulous; but I was a belle in those days;
+and I had a great many handsome men around me, and some not handsome.
+....Was I English? No. You don't understand how I could have seen so
+much of your father. Well, never doubt a story till you have heard the
+whole of it. I was an American girl; but my father and mother were both
+dead, and I was sent to England, to be brought up by an aunt, who was
+the nearest relation I had in the world. She had married an Englishman
+and settled in England."
+
+"Then we may claim you," said Lawrence. "To all intents and purposes
+you are English."
+
+"Might have been," returned Mrs. Thayer. "The flirtation ran very high,
+I can tell you, between your father and me. He was a poor man then. I
+understand he has nobly recovered from that fault. Is it true? People
+say he is made of gold."
+
+"There is no lack of the material article," Lawrence admitted.
+
+"No. Well, the other sort we know he had, or this would never be true
+of him now. I did not look so far ahead then. There is no telling what
+would have happened, but for a little thing. Just see how things go. I
+might have married in England, and all my life would have been
+different; and then came along Mr. Thayer. And the way I came to know
+him was this. A cousin of mine in America was going to be married, and
+her friend was a friend of Mr. Thayer. Mr. Thayer was coming over to
+England, and my cousin charged him with a little piece of wedding cake
+in white paper to bring to me. Just that little white packet! and Mr.
+Thayer brought it, and we saw one another, and the end was, I have
+lived my life on the other side instead of on this side."
+
+"It's our loss, I am sure," said St. Leger civilly.
+
+"You are too polite to say it is mine, but I know you think so. Perhaps
+it is. At any rate, I was determined, and am determined, that my
+daughter shall see and choose for herself which hemisphere she will
+live in. What are you doing in Italy?"
+
+"What everybody does in Italy, looking at the old and enjoying the new."
+
+"Ah, that's what it is!" said Mrs. Thayer approvingly. "That is what
+one enjoys. But my husband is one of the other sort. We divide Italy
+between us. He looks at the marbles, and I eat the pomegranates. Do you
+like pomegranates?--No? I delight in them, and in everything else fresh
+and new and sweet and acid. But what I want to know, Mr. St. Leger,
+is--how come these old ruins to be so worth looking at? Hasn't the
+human race made progress? Can't we raise as good buildings now-a-days,
+and as good to see, as those old heathen did?"
+
+"I suppose we can, when we copy their work exactly."
+
+"But how is that? Christians ought to do better work than heathens. I
+do not understand it."
+
+"No," said St. Leger, "I do not understand it."
+
+"Old poetry--that's what they study so much at Oxford and Cambridge,
+and everywhere else;--and old pictures, and old statues. I think the
+world ought to grow wiser as it grows older. I believe it is prejudice.
+There's my husband crazy to go to Paesturn,--I'm glad he can't; the
+marshes or something are so unhealthy; but I'm going to arrange for you
+an expedition to the Punta--Punta di something--the toe of the boot,
+you know; it's delightful; you go on donkeys, and you have the most
+charming views, and what I know you like better than anything,--the
+most charming opportunities for flirtation."
+
+"It will have to be Miss Thayer and I then," said Lawrence. "Miss
+Copley does not know how."
+
+"Nonsense! Don't tell me. Every girl does. She has her own way, I
+suppose. Makes it more piquant--and _piquing_."
+
+Lawrence looked over towards the innocent face, so innocent of anything
+false, he knew, or even of anything ambiguous; a face of pure womanly
+nature, childlike in its naturalness, although womanly in its gravity.
+Perhaps he drew a swift comparison between a man's chances with a face
+of that sort, and the counter advantages of Christina's more
+conventional beauty. Mr. Thayer had sat down beside Dolly and was
+drawing her into talk.
+
+"You are fond of art, Miss Copley. I remember we met you first in the
+room of the dying gladiator, in the Capitoline Museum. But everybody
+has to go to see the dying gladiator and the rest."
+
+"I suppose so," said Dolly.
+
+"I remember, though, I thought you were enjoying it."
+
+"Oh, I was."
+
+"I can always find out whether people really enjoy things. How many
+times did you go to see the gladiator? Let me see,--you were in Rome
+three months?"
+
+"Nearer four."
+
+"Four! Well, and how many times did you see the gladiator?"
+
+"I don't quite know. Half a dozen times, I think. I went until I had
+got it by heart; and now I can look at it whenever I like."
+
+"Humph!" said Mr. Thayer. "The only thing Christina wanted to see a
+second time was the mosaics; and those she did not get by heart
+exactly, but brought them away, a good many of them, bodily. And have
+you developed any taste for architecture during your travels?"
+
+"I take great pleasure in some architecture," said Dolly.
+
+"May I ask what instances? I am curious to see how our tastes
+harmonise."
+
+"Ah, but I know nothing about it," said Dolly. "I am entirely--or
+almost entirely--ignorant; and you know and understand."
+
+"'Almost entirely?'" said Mr. Thayer. "You have studied the subject?"
+
+"A little," said Dolly, smiling and blushing.
+
+"Do favour me. I am desirous to know what you have seen that
+particularly pleased you."
+
+"The cathedral at Limburg."
+
+"Limburg. Oh--ah! yes, it was _there_ we first met you. I was thinking
+it was in the museum of the Capitol. Limburg. You liked that?"
+
+"Very much!"
+
+"Romanesque--or rather Transition."
+
+"I do not know what Romanesque is, or Transition either."
+
+"Did you notice the round arches and the pointed arches?"
+
+"I do not remember. Yes, I do remember the round arches; but I was
+thinking rather of the effect of the whole."
+
+"The church at Limburg shows a mixture of the round Romanesque and the
+pointed Gothic; Gothic was preparing; that sort of thing belongs to the
+first half of the thirteenth century. Well, that bespeaks very good
+taste. What next would you mention, Miss Dolly?"
+
+"I don't know; I have enjoyed so many things. Perhaps I should say the
+Doge's palace at Venice."
+
+"Ha! the Doge's palace, hey? You like the pink and white marble."
+
+"Don't you, Mr. Thayer?"
+
+"That's not what one looks for in architecture. What do you say to St.
+Peter's?"
+
+"You will find a great deal of fault with me. I did not care for it."
+
+"Not? It is Michael Angelo's work."
+
+"But knowing the artist is no reason for admiring the work," said
+Dolly, smiling.
+
+"You are very independent! St. Peter's! Not to admire St. Peter's!"
+
+"I admired the magnificence, and the power, and a great many things;
+but I did not like the building. Not nearly so much as some others."
+
+"Now I wish we could go to Paestum, and see what you would say to pure
+old Greek work. But it would be as much as our lives are worth, I
+suppose."
+
+"Yes, Mr. Thayer," his wife cried; "don't talk about Paestum; they are
+going to-morrow to the point."
+
+"The point? what point? the coast is full of points."
+
+"The Punta di Campanella, papa," said Christina.
+
+"I thought you were going to Capri?"
+
+"We'll keep Capri till Sandie comes. He would be a help on the water.
+All our marine excursions we will keep until Sandie comes. I only hope
+he'll be good and come."
+
+The very air seemed full of pleasant anticipations; and Dolly would
+have been extremely happy; was happy; until on going in to dinner she
+saw the wineglasses on the table, and bottles suspiciously cooling in
+water. Her heart sank down, down. If she had had time and had dared,
+she would have remonstrated; but yet what could she say? She knew, too,
+that the wine at Mr. Thayer's table, like everything else on it, would
+be of the best procurable; better and more alluring than her father
+could get elsewhere. In her secret heart there was a bitter unspoken
+cry of remonstrance. O friends! O friends!--she was ready to say,--do
+you know what you are doing? You are dropping sweet poison into my
+life; bitter poison; deadly poison, where you little think it; and you
+do it with smiles and coloured glasses! She could hardly eat her
+dinner. She saw with indescribable pain and a sort of powerless
+despair, how Mr. Copley felt the license of his friend's house and
+example, and how the delicacy of the vintages offered him acted to dull
+his conscience; Mr. Thayer praising them and hospitably pressing his
+guest to partake. He himself drank very moderately and in a kind of
+mere matter-of-fact way; it was part of the dinner routine; and St.
+Leger tasted, as a man who knows indeed what is good, but also makes it
+a matter of no moment; no more than his bread or his napkin. Mr. Copley
+drank with eager gusto, and glass after glass; even, Dolly thought, in
+a kind of bravado. And this would go on every day while their visit
+lasted; and perhaps not at dinner only; there were luncheons, and for
+aught she knew, suppers. Dolly's heart was hot within her; so hot that
+after dinner she could not keep herself from speaking on the subject to
+Christina. Yet she must begin as far from her father as possible. The
+two girls were sitting on the bank under a fig-tree, looking out on the
+wonderful spectacle of the bay of Naples at evening.
+
+"There is a matter I have been thinking a great deal about lately," she
+said, with a little heartbeat at her daring.
+
+"I daresay," laughed Christina. "That is quite in your way. Oh, I do
+wish Sandie would come! He _ought_ to be here."
+
+"This is no laughing matter, Christina. It is a serious question."
+
+"You are never anything but serious, are you?" said her friend. "If you
+have a fault, it is that, Dolly. You don't laugh enough."
+
+Dolly was silent and swallowed her answer; for what did Christina know
+about it? _She_ had not to watch over her father; her father watched
+over her. Presently she began again; her voice had a little strain in
+its tone.
+
+"This is something for you and me to consider; for you and me, and
+other women who can do anything. Christina, did you ever think about
+the use of wine?"
+
+"Wine?" echoed Miss Thayer, a good deal mystified. "The use of it? I
+don't know any use of it, except to give people, gentlemen, something
+to talk of at dinner. Oh, it is good in sickness, I suppose. What are
+you thinking of?"
+
+"I am thinking of the harm it does," said Dolly in a low voice.
+
+"Harm? What harm? You are not one of those absurd people I have heard
+of, who cut down their apple-trees for fear the apples will be made
+into cider?"
+
+"I have no apple-trees to cut down," said Dolly. "But don't you know,
+Christina, that there is such a thing as drinking too much wine? and
+what comes of it?"
+
+"Not among our sort of people," said Christina. "I know there are such
+things as drunkards; but they are in the lower classes, who drink
+whisky and gin. Not among gentlemen."
+
+Dolly choked, and turned her face away to hide the eyes full of tears.
+
+"Too much wine?" Christina repeated. "One may have too much of
+anything. Too much fire will burn up your house; yet fire is a good
+thing."
+
+"That's only burning up your house," said Dolly sorrowfully.
+
+"_Only_ burning up your house! Dolly Copley, what are you thinking of?"
+
+"I am thinking of something infinitely worse. I am thinking of a man
+losing his manhood; of families losing their stay and their joy,
+because the father, or the husband, or the brother, has lost
+himself!--gone down below his standing as an intellectual
+creature;--become a mere animal, given up to low pleasures which make
+him sink lower and lower in the scale of humanity. I am thinking of
+_his_ loss and of _their_ loss, Christina. I am thinking of the
+dreadfulness of being ashamed of the dearest thing you have, and the
+way hearts break under it. And don't you know that when the love of
+wine and the like gets hold of a person, it is stronger than he is? It
+makes a slave of him, so that he cannot help himself."
+
+Christina's thoughts made a rapid flight over all the persons for whom
+Dolly could possibly fear such a fate, or in whom she could possibly
+have seen such an example. But Mr. St. Leger had the clear, fresh
+colour of perfect health and condition; Mr. Copley loved wine
+evidently, but drank it like a gentleman, and gave, to her eyes, no
+sign of being enslaved. What could Dolly be thinking of? Her mother was
+out of the question.
+
+"I don't make out what you are at, Dolly," she said. "Such things do
+not happen in our class of society."
+
+"Yes, they do. They happen in every class. And the highest ought to set
+an example to the lowest."
+
+"No use if they did. Anyhow, Dolly, it is nothing you and I can meddle
+with."
+
+"I think we ought not to have wine on our tables."
+
+"Mercy! Everybody does that."
+
+"It is offering temptation."
+
+"To whom? Our friends are not that sort of people."
+
+"How do you know but they may be? How can you tell but the taste or the
+tendency may be where you least think of it?"
+
+"You don't mean that Mr. St. Leger has anything of that sort?" said
+Christina, facing round upon her.
+
+"No more than other people, so far as I know. I am speaking in general,
+Christina. The thing is in the world; and we, I do think, we whose
+example would influence people,--I suppose everybody's example
+influences somebody else--I think we ought to do what we can."
+
+"And not have wine on our dinner-tables!"
+
+"Would that be so very dreadful?"
+
+"It would be very inconvenient, I can tell you, and very disagreeable.
+Fancy! no wine on the table. No one could understand it. And how our
+dinner-tables would look, Dolly, with the wine-glasses and the
+decanters taken off! And then, what would people talk about? Wine is
+such a help in getting through with a dinner-party. People who do not
+know anything else, and cannot talk of anything else, can taste wine;
+and have plenty to say about its colour, and its _bouquet_, and its
+age, and its growth, and its manufacture, and where it can be got
+genuine, and how it can be adulterated. And so one gets through with
+the dinner quite comfortably."
+
+"I should not want to see people who knew no more than that," said
+Dolly.
+
+"Oh, but you must."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"And it does not do to be unfashionable."
+
+"Why, Christina! Do you recollect what is said in the epistle of
+John--'The world knoweth us not'? I do not see how a Christian _can_ be
+fashionable. To be fashionable, one must follow the ways of the world."
+
+"Well, we must follow some of them," cried Christina, flaring up, "or
+people will not have anything to do with you."
+
+"That's what Christ said,--'Because ye are not of the world, ...
+therefore the world hateth you.'"
+
+"Do you like to have people hate you?"
+
+"No; but rather that than have Jesus say I do not belong to Him."
+
+"Dolly," said Christina, "you are _very_ high-flown! That might just do
+for one of Sandie's speeches."
+
+"I am glad Mr. Shubrick is such a wise man."
+
+"He's just a bit too wise for me. You see, I am not so superior. I
+should like to take him down a peg. And I--will if he don't come soon."
+
+He did not come in time for the next day's pleasure-party; so the young
+ladies had only Mr. St. Leger and Mr. Thayer to accompany them. Mrs.
+Copley "went on no such tramps," she said; and Mrs. Thayer avowed she
+was tired of them. The expedition took all day, for they went early and
+came back late, to avoid the central heat of midday. It was an
+extremely beautiful little journey; the road commanding a long series
+of magnificent views, almost from their first setting out. They went on
+donkeys, which was a favourite way with Dolly; at Massa they stopped
+for a cup of coffee; they climbed Monte San Costanzo; interviewed the
+hermit and enjoyed the prospect; and finally settled themselves for as
+pleasant a rest as possible among the myrtles on the solitary point of
+the coast. From here their eyes had a constant regale. The blue
+Mediterranean spread out before them, Capri in the middle distance, and
+the beauties of the shore nearer by, were an endless entertainment for
+Dolly. Christina declared she had seen it all before; Mr. Thayer found
+nothing worthy of much attention unless it had antiquities to be
+examined; and the fourth member of the party was somewhat too busy with
+human and social interests to leave his attention free.
+
+Mr. St. Leger had been now for a long time very unobtrusive in his
+attentions to Dolly, and Dolly partly hoped he had given her up; but
+that was a mistake. Perhaps he thought it was only a matter of time,
+for Dolly to get acquainted with him and accustomed to him; perhaps he
+thought himself sure of his game, if the fish had only line enough.
+Having the powerful support of Dolly's father and mother, all worldly
+interests on the side of his suit, a person and presence certainly
+unobjectionable, to say the least; how could a girl like Dolly, in the
+long run, remain unimpressed? He would give her time. Meanwhile, Mr.
+St. Leger was enjoying himself; seeing her daily and familiarly; he
+could wait comfortably. It would appear by all this that Lawrence was
+not an ardent man; but constitutions are different; there is an ardour
+of attack, and there is an ardour of persistence; and the latter, I
+think, belonged to him. Besides, he had sense enough to see that a too
+eager pressing of his cause with Dolly would ruin all. So he had
+waited, not discontentedly, and bided his time. Now, however, he began
+to think it desirable on many accounts to have the question decided.
+Mr. Copley would not stay much longer in Italy, Lawrence was certain,
+and the present way of life would come to an end; if his advantages
+were ever to bear fruit, it should be ripe now. Moreover, one or two
+other, and seemingly inconsistent, considerations came in. Lawrence
+admired Miss Thayer. Her beauty was even more striking, to his fancy,
+than Dolly's; if it were also more like other beauties he had seen. She
+had money too, and Dolly had none. Truly, Mr. St. Leger had enough of
+his own; but when did ever a man with enough not therefore desire more?
+He admired Christina very much; she suited him; if Dolly should prove
+after all obdurate, here was his chance for making himself amends.
+Cool! for an ardent lover; but Mr. St. Leger _was_ of a calm
+temperament, and these suggestions did come into his mind back of his
+liking for Dolly.
+
+This liking was strong upon him the day of the excursion to the Punta
+di Campanella. Of necessity he was Christina's special attendant, Mr.
+Thayer being Dolly's. Many girls would not have relished such an
+arrangement, Lawrence knew; his sisters would not. And Dolly was in an
+acme of delight. Lawrence watched her whenever they came near each
+other, and marvelled at the sweet, childish-womanish face. It was in a
+ripple of pleasure; the brown, considerate eyes were sparkling, roving
+with quick, watchful glances over everything, and losing as few as
+possible of the details of the way. Talking to Mr. Thayer now and then,
+Lawrence saw her, with the most innocent, sweet mouth in the world; her
+smile and that play of lip and eye bewitched him whenever he got a
+glimpse of it. The play of Christina's features was never so utterly
+free, so absent from thought of self, so artless in its fun. Now and
+then, too, there came the soft, low ring of a clear voice, in laughter
+or talking, bearing the same characteristics of a sweet spirit and a
+simple heart; and yet, when in repose, Dolly's face was strong in its
+sense and womanliness. The combination held Mr. St. Leger captive. I do
+not know how he carried on his needful attentions to his companion;
+with a mechanical necessity, I suppose; when all the while he was
+watching Dolly and contrasting the two girls. He was not such a fool as
+not to know which indications promised him the best wife; or if not
+him, the man who could get her. And he resolved, if a chance offered,
+he would speak to Dolly that very day. For here was Christina, if his
+other hope failed. He _was_ cool; nevertheless, he was in earnest.
+
+They had climbed up Monte San Costanzo and admired the view. They had
+rested, and enjoyed a capital lunch among the myrtles on the point. It
+was when they were on their way home in the afternoon, and not till
+then, that the opportunity presented itself which he had wished for. On
+the way home, the order of march was broken up. Christina sometimes
+dropped St. Leger to ride with her father; sometimes called Dolly to be
+her companion; and at last, declaring that she did not want Mr. St.
+Leger to have a sense of sameness about the day, she set off with her
+father ahead, begging Dolly to amuse the other gentleman.
+
+Which Dolly made not the least effort to do. The scenery was growing
+more lovely with every minute's lengthening shadows; and she rode
+along, giving all her attention to it, not making to Mr. St. Leger even
+the remarks she might have made to Mr. Thayer. The change of companions
+to her was not welcome. St. Leger found the burden of conversation must
+lie upon him.
+
+"We have not seen much of each other for a long time," he began.
+
+"Only two or three times a day," said Dolly.
+
+"And you think that is enough, perhaps!" said Lawrence hastily.
+
+"Don't you think more would have a tendency to produce what Christina
+calls a 'sense of sameness'?" said Dolly, turning towards him a face
+all dimpled with fun.
+
+"That is according to circumstances. The idea is not flattering. But,
+Miss Dolly," said Lawrence, pulling himself up, "in all this
+while--these months--that we have been travelling together, we have had
+time to learn to know each other pretty well. _You_ must have been able
+to make up your mind about me."
+
+"Which part of your character?"
+
+"Miss Dolly," said Lawrence with some heat, "you know what I mean."
+
+"Do I? But I did not know that I had to make up my mind about anything
+concerning you; I thought that was done long ago."
+
+"And you do not like me any better now than you did then?"
+
+"Perhaps I do," said Dolly slowly. "I always liked you, Mr. St. Leger,
+and I had cause. You have been a very kind friend to us."
+
+"For your sake, Dolly."
+
+"I am sorry for that," she said.
+
+"And I have waited all this time in the hope that you would get
+accustomed to me, and your objections would wear away. You know what
+your father and mother wish concerning us. Does their wish not weigh
+with you?"
+
+"No," said Dolly very quietly. "This is my affair, not theirs."
+
+"It is their affair so far as your interests are involved. And I do not
+wish to praise myself; but you know they think that those interests
+would be secured by a marriage with me. And I believe I could make you
+happy, Dolly."
+
+Dolly shook her head. "How could you?" she said. "We belong to two
+opposite parties, and are following two different lines of life. You
+would not like my way, and I should not like yours. How could either of
+us be happy?"
+
+"Even granting all that," said Lawrence, "why should you not bear with
+my peculiarities, and I with yours, and neither be the worse? That is
+very frequently done."
+
+"Is it? I do not think it ought to be done."
+
+"Let us prove that it can be. I will never interfere with you, Dolly."
+
+"Yes, you would," said Dolly, dimpling all over again. "Do you think
+you would make up your mind to have no wine in your cellar or on your
+table? Take that for one thing. I should have no wine on mine."
+
+"That's a crotchet of yours," said he, smiling at her: he thought if
+_this_ were all, the thing might be managed.
+
+"That is only one thing, Mr. St. Leger," Dolly went on very gravely
+now. "I should be unfashionable in a hundred ways, and you would not
+like that. I should spend money on objects and for causes that you
+would not care about nor agree to. I am telling you all this to
+reconcile you to doing without me."
+
+"Your refusal is absolute, then?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You would not bring up these extraneous things, Dolly, if you had any
+love for me."
+
+"I do not know why that should make any difference. It might make it
+hard."
+
+"Then you _have_ no love for me?"
+
+"I am afraid not," said Dolly gently. "Not what you mean. And without
+that, you would not wish for a different answer from me."
+
+"Yes, I would!" said he. "All that would come; but you know your own
+business best."
+
+Dolly thought she did, and the proposition remained uncontroverted.
+Therewith the discourse died; and the miles that remained were made in
+unsocial silence. Dolly feared she had given some pain, but doubted it
+could not be very great; and she was glad to have the explanation over.
+Perhaps the pain was more than she knew, although Lawrence certainly
+was not a desperate wooer; nevertheless, he was disappointed, and he
+was mortified, and mortification is hard to a man. For the matter of
+that, it is hard to anybody. It was not till the villa occupied by the
+Thayers was close before them that he spoke again.
+
+"Do you expect to stay much longer in Italy?"
+
+"I am afraid not," Dolly answered.
+
+"I have reason to think Mr. Copley will not. Indeed, I know as much. I
+thought you might like to be informed."
+
+Dolly said nothing. Her eyes roved over the beautiful bay, almost with
+an echo of Eve's "Must I then leave thee, Paradise?" in her heart. The
+smoke curling up from Vesuvius caught the light; little sails skimming
+over the sea reflected it; the sweetness of thousands of roses and
+orange blossoms, and countless other flowers, filled all the air; it
+was a time and a scene of nature's most abundant and beautiful bounty.
+Dolly checked her donkey, and for a few minutes stood looking; then
+with a brave determination that she would enjoy it all as much as she
+could while she had it, she went into the house.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+WHITHER NOW?
+
+The days that followed were full of pleasure; and Dolly kept to her
+resolution, not to spoil the present by care about the future. Indeed,
+the balmy air and the genial light and all the wealth that nature has
+bestowed upon southern Italy, were a help to such a resolution. The
+infinite lavish fulness of the present quite laughed at the idea of
+barrenness or want anywhere in time to come. Dolly knew that was
+nature's subtle flattery, not to be trusted, and yet she willingly
+admitted the flattery. Nothing should spoil these days.
+
+One evening she and Christina were sitting again on the bank, wondering
+at the marvellous sunset panorama.
+
+"How difficult it is, looking at this," said Dolly, "to believe that
+there is want and misery in the world."
+
+"Why should you believe it?" said Christina. "I don't think there is,
+except where people have brought it upon themselves."
+
+"People bring it upon other people. But to look at this, one would say
+it was impossible. And this is how the world was meant to be, I
+suppose."
+
+"What do you mean? how?" said Christina. "It is rich to hear you talk."
+
+"Oh, look at it, Christina! Look at the colours and the lights and the
+sparkle everywhere, the perfect wealth of loveliness in form as well as
+colour; and if you think a minute you will know that He who made it all
+meant people to be happy, and meant them to be as full of happiness as
+the earth is full of beauty."
+
+"I don't see 'lights' and 'colours' so much as you do, Dolly; I am not
+an artist; but if God meant them to be happy, why aren't they happy?"
+
+"Sin," said Dolly.
+
+"What's the use of thinking about it? You and I cannot help it."
+
+"Christina, that is not true. We can help some of it."
+
+"By giving money, you mean? Well, we do, whenever we see occasion; but
+there is no end of the cheatery."
+
+"Giving money will not take away the world's misery, Christina."
+
+"What will, then? It will do a good deal."
+
+"It will do a good deal, but it does not touch the root of the trouble."
+
+"What does, Dolly?--you dreamer."
+
+"The knowledge of Christ."
+
+"Well, it is the business of clergymen and missionaries to give them
+that."
+
+"Prove it."
+
+"Why, that's what they are for."
+
+"Do you think there are enough of them to preach the good news to every
+creature?"
+
+"Well, then, there ought to be more."
+
+"And in the meantime?--Tell me, Christina, to whom was that command
+given, to preach the gospel to every creature?"
+
+"To the apostles, of course!"
+
+"Twelve men? Or eleven men, rather. They could not. No, it was given to
+all the disciples; and so, Christina, it was given to you, and to me."
+
+"To preach the gospel!" said Christina.
+
+"That is, just to tell the good news."
+
+"And to whom do you propose we should tell it?"
+
+"The command says, everybody."
+
+"How can you and I do that, Dolly?"
+
+"That is just what I am studying, Christina. I do not quite know. But
+when I look out on all this wonderful beauty, and see what it means,
+and think how miserable the world is,--just the very opposite,--I feel
+that I must do it, somehow or other."
+
+Christina lifted her arms above her head and clapped her hands
+together. "Mad, mad!" she exclaimed--"you are just gone mad, Dolly. Oh,
+I wish you'd get married, and forget all your whimsies. The right sort
+of man would make you forget them. Haven't you found the right sort of
+man yet?"
+
+"The right sort of man would help me carry them out."
+
+"It must be my Sandie, then; there isn't another match for you in
+extravagant ideas in all this world. What does Mr. St. Leger think of
+them?"
+
+"I never asked him. I suppose he would take very much your view."
+
+"And you don't care what view he takes?" said Christina, looking
+sharply at her.
+
+"Not in the least. Except for his own sake."
+
+The one drawback upon the perfect felicity of this visit was, that the
+said Sandie did not appear. They could not wait for him; they went on
+the most charming of excursions, by sea and land, wishing for him; in
+which wish Dolly heartily shared. It had been one of the pleasures she
+had promised herself in coming to the Thayers' that she should see Mr.
+Shubrick again. He had interested her singularly, and even taken not a
+little hold of her fancy. So she was honestly disappointed when at last
+a note came from him, saying that he found it impossible to join the
+party.
+
+"That means just that he has something on hand that he calls
+'duty'--which anybody else would put off or hand over," said Christina,
+pouting.
+
+"Duty is a very good reason," said Dolly. "Don't you see, you are sure
+of Mr. Shubrick, that in any case he will not do what he thinks wrong?
+I think you ought to be a very happy woman, Christina."
+
+But the excursions were made without Mr. Shubrick's social or material
+help. They went to Capri; they visited the grottoes; nay, they made a
+party to go up Vesuvius. All that was to be seen, they saw; and, as
+Christina declared, they left nothing undone that they could do. Then
+came the breaking up.
+
+"Are you expecting to go back to that stuffy little place at Sorrento?"
+Mr. Copley asked. It was the evening before their departure, and all
+the party were sitting, scattered about upon the verandah.
+
+"Father!" cried Dolly. "It is the airiest, floweriest, sunniest,
+brightest, most delightful altogether house, that ever took lodgers in!"
+
+"It certainly wasn't stuffy, Mr. Copley," said his wife.
+
+"Dolly likes it because you couldn't get a glass of good wine in the
+house. Whatever the rest of humanity like, she makes war upon. I
+conclude you are reckoning upon going back there, my wife and daughter?"
+
+"Are not you, Mr. Copley?" his wife asked.
+
+"I must be excused."
+
+"Then where are you going?"
+
+"Home."
+
+"Home!" exclaimed Mrs. Copley. "Do you mean _home?_ Boston?"
+
+"A Boston woman thinks Boston is the centre of the universe, you may
+notice," said Mr. Copley, turning to Mr. Thayer. "It's a curious
+peculiarity. No matter what other cities on the face of the earth you
+show her, her soul turns back to Boston."
+
+"Don't say anything against Boston," said Mrs. Thayer; "it's a good
+little place. I know, when Mr. Thayer first carried me there, it took
+me a while to get accustomed to it;--things on a different scale, you
+know, and looked at from a different point of view; but I soon found
+admirers, and then friends. Oh, I assure you, Boston and I were very
+fond of each other in those days; and though I lost my claims to
+admiration a long time ago, I have kept my friends."
+
+"I have no doubt the admirers are still there too," said Mr. Copley.
+"Does Mrs. Thayer mean to say she has no admirers? I profess myself
+one!"
+
+"Christina takes the admiration now-a-days. I am contented with that."
+
+"And so you conquer by proxy."
+
+"Mr. Copley," here put in his wife, "if you do not mean America by
+'home,' what do you mean? and where are you going?"
+
+"Where my home has been for a number of years. England--London."
+
+"But you have given up your office?"
+
+"I am half sorry, that is a fact."
+
+"Then what should you do in London?"
+
+"My dear, of the many hundred thousands who call London their home,
+very few have an office."
+
+"But they have business of some kind?"
+
+"That is a Boston notion. Did you ever observe, Thayer, that a
+Massachusetts man has no idea of life without business? It is the
+reason why he is in the world, to him; it never occurs to him that
+_play_ might be occasionally useful. I declare! I believe they don't
+know the meaning of the word in America; it has dropped out, like a
+forgotten art."
+
+"But, father," Dolly spoke up now, "if you are going to London, mother
+and I cannot possibly go to Sorrento."
+
+"I don't quite see the logic of that."
+
+"Why, we cannot be here in Italy quite alone."
+
+"I'll leave you St. Leger to take care of you and bring you back; as he
+took you away."
+
+"I should be very happy to fall in with that plan," said Lawrence
+slowly; "but I fear I cannot make it out. I have been making
+arrangements to go into Greece, seeing that I am so near it. And I may
+quite possibly spend another winter in Rome."
+
+There was a pause, and when Mr. Copley spoke again there was another
+sound in his voice. It was not his will to betray it, but Dolly heard
+the chagrin and disappointment.
+
+"Well," said he, "such independent travellers as you two ladies can do
+pretty comfortably alone in that paragon of lodging-houses."
+
+"But not make the journey home alone, father."
+
+"When are you coming?"
+
+"When you do, of course," said his wife.
+
+Dolly knew it must be so and not otherwise. She sat still and
+down-hearted, looking abroad over the bay of Naples, over all the
+shores of which the moonlight was quivering or lying in still floods of
+calm beauty. From this, ay, and from everything that was like this, in
+either its fairness or its tranquillity, she must go. There had been a
+little lull in her cares since they came to Sorrento; the lull was
+over. Back to London!--And that meant, back to everything from which
+she had hoped to escape. How fondly she had hoped, once her father was
+away from the scene of his habits and temptations, he could be saved to
+himself and his family; and perhaps even lured back to America where he
+would be comparatively safe. Now where was that hope, or any other?
+Suddenly Dolly changed her place and sat down close beside Mr. Copley.
+
+"Father, I wish you would take us back to our real old home--back to
+Roxbury!"
+
+"Can't do it, my pet."
+
+"But, father, why not? What should keep you in England?"
+
+"Business."
+
+"Now that you are out of the office?"
+
+"Yes. Do you think all business is confined to the consuls' offices? A
+few other people have something to do."
+
+Dolly heard no tone of hope-giving in her father's words. She ceased
+and sat silent, leaning upon his knee as she was and looking off into
+the moonlight. Mrs. Thayer and Mr. St. Leger were carrying on a lively
+discourse about people and things unknown to her; Mr. Thayer was
+smoking; Mrs. Copley was silent and sorry and cast-down, like herself,
+she knew. Dolly's eye went roving through the moonlight as if it were
+never going to see moonlight again; and her heart was taking up the old
+question, and feeling it too heavy to carry, how should she save her
+father from his temptation? Under the pressure Dolly's heart felt very
+low; until again those words came and lifted her up,--"Who shall
+separate us from the love of Christ?" After that the sweet moonbeams
+seemed to be full of those words. I am _not_ alone, thought Dolly, I am
+_not_ forgotten; and He does not mean that I should be crushed, or
+hurt, by this arrangement of things, which I strove so to hinder. I
+will not be one of the "little faith" people. I will just trust the
+Lord--my Lord. What I cannot do, He can; and His ways are wonderful and
+past finding out.
+
+So she was quieted. And yet as she sat there it came over Dolly's mind,
+as things will, quite unbidden; it came over her to think how life
+would go on here, in Italy, with Christina, after she was gone. When
+the lovely Italian chapter of her own life was closed up and ended,
+when she would be far away out of sight of Vesuvius, in the fogs of
+London, the sun of Naples would still be shining on the Thayers' villa.
+They would go sailing on blue water, or floating over the gold and
+purple reflections which sometimes seemed to fill both water and air;
+they would see the white shafts of Paestum, yes, it would be soon cool
+enough for that; or if they must wait for Paestum, there were enough
+old monasteries and ruined castles and beauties of the like sort to
+keep them busy for many a day. Beauties which Dolly and Mr. Thayer
+loved. Nobody else in the house loved them. Christina had hardly an eye
+for them; and St. Leger, if he looked, did not care for what he saw.
+Nevertheless, they three would go picnicking through the wonderful old
+land, where every step was on monumental splendour or historical ashes,
+and the sights would be before them; whether they had eyes to see or
+no. For Dolly it was all done. She was glad she had had so much and
+enjoyed so much; and that enjoyment had given memory such a treasure of
+things to keep, that were hers for all time, and could be looked at in
+memory's chambers whenever she pleased. Yet she could not see the
+moonlight on the bay of Naples this evening for the last time, and
+remember towards what she was turning her face, without some tears
+coming that nobody saw--tears that were salt and hot.
+
+The journey home was a contrast to the way by which they had come. It
+pleased Mr. Copley to go by sea from Naples to Marseilles, and from
+thence through France as fast as the ground could be passed over, till
+they reached Dover. And although those were not the days of lightning
+travel, yet travelling continually, the effect was of one swift,
+confused rush between Naples and London. Instead of the leisurely,
+winding course pursued to Dresden, and from Dresden to Venice,
+deviating at will from the shortest or the most obvious route, stopping
+at will at any point where the fancy took them, dawdling, speculating,
+enjoying, getting good out of every step of the way,--this journey was
+a sort of flash from the one end of it to the other, with nothing seen
+or remembered between but the one item of fatigue. So it came about,
+that when they found themselves in a London lodging-house, and Mrs.
+Copley and Dolly sat down and looked at each other, they had the
+feeling of having left Sorrento last evening, and of being dazed with
+the sudden transition from Sorrento and sunshine to London and smoke.
+
+"Well!" said Mr. Copley, rubbing his hands, "here we are!"
+
+"I don't feel as if I was anywhere," said his wife. "My head's in a
+whirl. Is this the way you like to travel, Frank?"
+
+"The purpose of travelling, my dear," said Mr. Copley, still rubbing
+his hands--it must have been with satisfaction, for it could not have
+been with cold--"the purpose of travel is--to get over the ground."
+
+"It wasn't my purpose when I went away."
+
+"No--but when you came back."
+
+"It wasn't my purpose anyway," said Mrs. Copley. "I should never stir
+from my place if I had to move the way you have kept me moving. My head
+is in a whirl."
+
+"I'll take hold and turn it round the other way."
+
+"I think it is quite likely you will! I should like to know what you
+mean to do with us, now you have got us here."
+
+"Keep you here."
+
+"What are you going to do with yourself, Mr. Copley?"
+
+"There are always so many uses that I can make of myself, more than I
+have time for, that I cannot tell which I shall take hold of first."
+
+With which utterance he quitted the room, almost before it was fairly
+out of his mouth. The two left behind sat and looked at the room, and
+then at each other.
+
+"What are we going to do now, Dolly?" Mrs. Copley asked in evidently
+dismayed uncertainty.
+
+"I don't know, mother."
+
+"How long do you suppose your father will be contented to stay in this
+house?"
+
+"I have no means of guessing, mother. I don't know why we are here at
+all."
+
+"We had to go somewhere, I suppose, when we came to London--just for
+the first; but I can't stay _here_, Dolly!"
+
+"Of course not, mother."
+
+"Then where are we going to? It is all very well to say 'of course
+not;' but where can we go, Dolly?"
+
+"I have been thinking about it, mother, dear, but I have not found out
+yet. If we knew how long father wanted to stay in London"----
+
+"It is no use asking that. I can tell you beforehand. He don't know
+himself. But it is my belief he'll find something or other to make him
+want to stay here the rest of his life."
+
+"O mother, I hope not!"
+
+"It is no use speaking to him about it, Dolly. Even if he knew, he
+would not own it, but that's my belief; and I can't bear London, Dolly.
+A very few days of this noise and darkness would just put me back where
+I was before we went away. I know it would."
+
+
+"This is a darker day than common; they are not all so."
+
+"They are all like gloom itself, compared to where we have been. I tell
+you, Dolly, I cannot stand it. After Sorrento, I cannot bear this."
+
+"It's my belief, mother, you want home and Roxbury air. Why don't you
+represent that to father, forcibly?"
+
+"Dolly, I never put myself in the way of your father's pleasure. He
+must take his pleasure; and he likes London. How he can, I don't see;
+but he does, and so do a great many other people; it may be a want of
+taste in me; I daresay it is; but I shall not put myself in the way of
+his pleasure. I'll stand it as long as I can, and when I cannot stand
+it any longer, I'll die. It will come to an end some time."
+
+"Mother, don't talk so! We'll coax father to finish up his business and
+go home to Roxbury. I am quite setting my heart on it. Only you have
+patience a little, and don't lose courage. I'll talk to father as soon
+as I get a chance."
+
+"What a dirty place this is!" was Mrs. Copley's next remark.
+
+"Yes. It is not like the rocks and the sea. A great city must be more
+or less so, I suppose."
+
+"I believe great cities are a mistake. I believe they were not meant to
+be built. They don't agree with me, anyway. Well, I'll lie down on that
+old sofa there--it's hard enough to have been one of Job's
+troubles--and see if I can get to sleep."
+
+Dolly drew a soft shawl over her, and sat down to keep watch alone. The
+familiar London sounds were not cheering to the ears which had been so
+lately listening to the lap of the waves and the rustling of the myrtle
+branches. And the dingy though comfortable London lodging-house was a
+poor exchange for the bay of Sorrento and the bright rooms full of the
+scents of orange flowers and roses and carnations. Dolly gave way a
+little and felt very down-hearted. Not merely for this change of her
+outside world, indeed; Dolly was not so weak; only in this case the
+outward symbolised the inward, and gave fitting form and imagery for
+it. The grime and confusion of London streets, to Dolly's fancy, were
+like the evil ways which she saw close upon her; and as roses and
+myrtles, so looked a fair family life of love and right-doing. Why
+not?--when He, who is Love itself and Righteousness immaculate,
+declares of Himself,--"I am the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the
+valleys." I do not think those words occurred to Dolly that night, but
+other Bible words did, after a while. Promises of the life that shall
+be over all the earth one day, when the wilderness and the desert
+places shall be no longer desolate or barren, but shall "rejoice and
+blossom as the rose;" when to the Lord's people, "the sun shall no
+longer be their light by day, neither for brightness shall the moon
+give light" to them; when "sorrow and sighing shall flee away," and
+"the days of their mourning shall be ended." The words were like a
+lovely chime of bells,--or like the breath from a whole garden of roses
+and orange flowers,--or like the sunset light on the bay of Naples; or
+anything else most majestic, sweet, and fair. What if there were
+shadowed places to go through first?--And a region of shadow Dolly
+surely knew she had entered now. She longed for her father to come
+home; she wanted to consult with him about their arrangements, and so
+arrive at some certainty respecting what she had to do and expect. But
+Dolly knew that an early coming home was scarce to be hoped for; and
+she providently roused her mother at ten o'clock, and persuaded her to
+go to bed. Then Dolly waited alone in truth, with not even her sleeping
+mother's company; very sad at heart, and clutching, as a lame man does
+his stick, at some of the words of comfort she knew. "Though I walk
+through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for
+Thou art with me." The case was not quite so bad, nor so good, with her
+as that; but the words were a strong staff to lean upon, nevertheless.
+And those others: "Because he hath set his love upon Me, therefore will
+I deliver him; I will set him on high, because he hath known My name.
+He shall call upon Me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in
+trouble;"... And, "There shall no evil happen to the just." Dolly
+stayed her heart on such words, while she waited for her father's
+coming. As it grew later and yet later she doubted whether she ought to
+wait. She was waiting however when he came, between twelve and one, but
+nearer the latter. She listened to his step on the stair, and knew all
+was not right; and when he opened the door, she saw. Her father had
+surely been taking wine or something; his face was flushed, his eyes
+were excited, and his manner was wandering.
+
+"Dolly!--What are you here for?"
+
+"I waited for you, father. I wanted to have a talk with you. But it's
+too late now," Dolly said, trembling.
+
+"Too late--yes, of course. Go to bed. That's the thing for you. London
+is a great place, Dolly!"
+
+Alas! His expression of satisfaction was echoed in her heart by an
+anathema. It was no time then to say anything. Dolly went to bed and
+cried herself to sleep, longing for that sunshiny time of which it is
+promised to the Lord's people--"Thy sun shall no more go down by day;"
+and thankful beyond all power of words to express, even then in her
+sorrow, that another sun had even already risen upon her, in the warm
+light of which no utter darkness was possible.
+
+It was a day or two before, with her best watching, she could catch an
+opportunity to speak to her father. The second morning Mrs. Copley had
+headache and staid in bed, and Dolly and Mr. Copley were at breakfast
+alone.
+
+"How long, father, do you think you may find affairs to keep you in
+England?" Dolly began with her father's first cup of coffee.
+
+"As long as I like, my dear. There is no limit. In England there are
+always things going on to keep a man alive, and to keep him busy."
+
+"Isn't that true in America equally?"
+
+"I don't think so. I never found it so. Oh, there is enough to do
+there; but you don't find the same facilities, nor the same men to work
+with; and you don't know what to do with your money there when you have
+got it. England is the place! for a man who wants to live and to enjoy
+life."
+
+"It isn't for a woman," said Dolly. "At least, not for one woman.
+Father, don't you know mother is longing to go home, to Roxbury?"
+
+"Dolly, she is longing for something or other impossible, every day of
+her life."
+
+"But it would do her a great deal of good to be back there."
+
+"It would do me a great deal of harm."
+
+There was a pause here during which Dolly meditated, and Mr. Copley
+buttered pieces of toast and swallowed them with ominous despatch.
+Dolly saw he would be soon through his breakfast at that rate.
+
+"But, father," she began again, "are we to spend all the rest of our
+lives in England?"
+
+"My dear, I don't know anything about the future. I never look ahead.
+The day is as much as I can see through. I advise you to follow my
+example."
+
+"What are mother and I to do, then? We cannot stay permanently here, in
+this house."
+
+"What's the matter with it?"
+
+"Nothing, as a lodging-house; but mother would not thrive or be happy
+in a London lodging-house."
+
+"People's happiness is in their own power. It does not depend upon
+place. All the clergymen will tell you so. You must talk to your
+mother, Dolly."
+
+"Father, I talked to _you_ at Sorrento; but I remember you thought you
+could not live there."
+
+"That was Sorrento; but London!--London is the greatest city in the
+world. Every taste may be suited in London."
+
+"You know the air does not agree with mother. She will not be well if
+we keep her here," said Dolly anxiously; for she saw the last piece of
+toast on its way.
+
+"Nonsense! That is fancy."
+
+"If it is fancy, it is just as good as reality. She was pining when we
+were here before, until we went down to Brierley; and she will lose all
+she has gained in her travelling if we keep her here now."
+
+"Well--I'll see what I can do," said Mr. Copley, rising from the table.
+"When is St. Leger coming back?"
+
+"How should I know? I know nothing at all of his purposes but what he
+told us."
+
+"Have you thrown him over?"
+
+"I never took him up."
+
+"Then you are more of a goose than I thought you. He'll be caught by
+that fair friend of yours, before he gets out of Italy. Good morning!"
+
+Mr. Copley hurried away; and Dolly was left to her doubts. What could
+so interest and hold him in a place where he had no official business,
+where his home was not, and he had no natural associations? Was it the
+attraction of mere pleasure, or was it pleasure under that mischievous,
+false face of gain, which men delight in and call speculation. And from
+speculation proper, carried on among the business haunts of men, there
+is not such a very wide step in the nature of things to the green level
+of the gaming-table. True, many men indulge in the one variety who have
+a horror of the other; but Dolly's father, she knew, had a horror of
+neither. Stocks, or dice, what did it matter? and in both varieties the
+men who played with him, she knew too, would help their play with wine.
+Against these combined powers, what was she? And what was to become of
+them all?
+
+Part of the question was answered at dinner that evening. Mr. Copley
+announced that Brierley Cottage was unoccupied and that he had retaken
+it for them.
+
+"Brierley!" cried Mrs. Copley. "Brierley! Are we going back _there_
+again! Frank, do you mean that we are to spend all our lives apart in
+future?"
+
+"Not at all, my dear! If you will be so good as to stay with me, I
+shall be very happy."
+
+"In London! But you know very well I cannot live in London."
+
+"Then you can go down to Brierley."
+
+"And how often shall you come there?"
+
+"When the chinks of business are wide enough to let me slip through."
+
+"Business! All you live for is business. Mr. Copley, what do you expect
+is to become of Dolly, shut up in a cottage down in the country?"
+
+"How is she to get married, you mean? _She_ expects a fairy prince to
+come along one of these days; and of course he could find her at
+Brierley as easily as anywhere. It makes no difference in a fairy tale.
+In fact, the unlikely places are just the ones where the princes turn
+up."
+
+"You will not be serious!" sighed Mrs. Copley.
+
+"Serious? I am nothing but serious. The regular suitor, proposed by the
+parents, has offered himself and been rejected; and now there is
+nothing to do but to wait for the fairy prince."
+
+Poor Mrs. Copley gave it up. Her husband's words were always too quick
+for her.
+
+Brierley was afterwards discussed between her and Dolly. The proposal
+was welcome to neither of them. Yet London would not do for Mrs.
+Copley; she grew impatient of it more and more. And so, within a week
+after their arrival, they left it and went down again to their old home
+in the country. It felt like going to prison, Mrs. Copley said. Though
+the country was still full of summer's wealth and beauty; and it was
+impossible not to feel the momentary delight of the change from London.
+The little garden was crowded with flowers, the fields all around rich
+in grass and grain; the great trees of the park standing in their
+unchanged regal beauty; the air sweet as air could be, without orange
+blossoms. And yet it seemed to the two ladies, when Mr. Copley left
+them again after taking them down to the cottage, that they were shut
+off and shut up in a respectable and very eligible prison, from whence
+escape was doubtful.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+DOWN HILL.
+
+To do Mr. Copley justice, he left the prison very well provided and
+furnished. The store closet and pantry were stocked; the house put in
+tolerable order, and two maids were taken down. The old gardener had
+disappeared, but Dolly declared she would keep the flowers in order
+herself. So for a number of weeks things really went not ill with them
+at Brierley. Dolly did keep the flowers in order, and she did a great
+many other things; the chief of which, however, was attending to her
+mother. How exquisitely she did this it would take a great deal of
+detail to tell. It was shown, or felt rather, for a great part, in very
+small particulars. Not only in taking care of her mother's wardrobe and
+toilette, like the most skilled of waiting-maids; not only in ordering
+and providing her meals like the most dainty of housekeepers; not only
+in tireless reading aloud of papers and books, whatever could be got to
+interest Mrs. Copley; these were part, but besides these there were a
+thousand little touches a day given to Mrs. Copley's comfort, that even
+herself hardly took any note of. Dolly's countenance never was seen to
+fall in her mother's presence, nor her spirits perceived to flag. She
+was like the flowers with which she filled the house and dressed the
+table; sweet and fresh and cheery and lovely. And so ministering, and
+so ministered to, I cannot say that the life of the mother and daughter
+was other than a happy one. If Mrs. Copley was sensible of a grievous
+want here and there, which made her nervous and irritable whenever she
+thought of it, the tenderness of Dolly's soothing and the contagion of
+Dolly's peace were irresistible; and if Dolly had a gnawing subject of
+care, which hurt and pricked and stung her perpetually, a cloud of fear
+darkening over her, from the shadow of which she could not get free;
+yet the loving care to ward off both the pain and the fear from her
+mother, helped at least to keep her own heart fresh and strong to bear
+whatever was coming.
+
+So in their little room, at their table, or about the flowers in the
+garden, or sitting in the honeysuckle porch reading, the mother and
+daughter were always together, and the days of late summer and then of
+autumn went by sweetly enough. And when the last roses were gone and
+the honeysuckle vines had ceased to send forth their breath of
+fragrance, and leaves turned sear, and the winds blew harsh from the
+sea, Dolly and Mrs. Copley made themselves all the snugger in the
+cottage; and knitting and reading was carried on in the glow of a good
+fire that filled all their little room with brightness. They were ready
+for winter; and winter when it came did not chill them; the household
+life was warm and busy. All this while they had the stir of frequent
+visits from Mr. Copley, and between whiles the expectation of them.
+They were never long; he came and went, Mrs. Copley said, like a gust
+of wind, with a rush and a whistle and a roar, and then was gone,
+leaving you to feel how still it was. However, these gusts of wind
+brought a great deal of refreshment. Mr. Copley always came with his
+hands full of papers; always had the last London or Edinburgh
+Quarterly, and generally some other book or books for his wife and
+daughter to delight themselves withal. And though Dolly was not always
+satisfied with her father's appearance, yet on the whole he gave her no
+new or increased occasion for anxiety.
+
+So the autumn and winter went not ill away. The cottage had no
+visitors. It was at some distance from the village, and in the village
+there was hardly anybody that would have held himself entitled to visit
+there. The doctor was an old bachelor. The rector took no account of
+the two stranger ladies whom now and then his eye roved over in service
+time. Truly they were not often to be seen in his church, for the
+distance was too far for Mrs. Copley to walk, unless in exceptionally
+good days; when the weather and the footing and her own state of body
+and mind were in rare harmony over the undertaking. There was nobody
+else to take notice of them, and nobody did take notice of them; and in
+process of time it came to pass, not unnaturally, that Mrs. Copley
+began to get tired of living alone. For though it is extremely pleasant
+to be quiet, yet it remains true that man was made a social animal; and
+if he is in a healthy condition he craves contact with his fellows. As
+the winter wore away, some impression of this sort seemed to force
+itself upon Mrs. Copley.
+
+"I wonder what your father is dreaming of!" she said one day, when she
+had sat for some time looking at Dolly, who was drawing. "He seems to
+think it quite natural that you should live down here at this cottage,
+year in and year out, like a toad in a hole; with no more life or
+society. We might as well be shut up in a nunnery, only then there
+would be more of us. I never heard of a nunnery with only two nuns."
+
+"Are you getting tired of it, mother?"
+
+"Tired!--that isn't the word. I think I am growing stupid, and
+gradually losing my wits."
+
+"We have not been a bit stupid this winter, mother, dear."
+
+"We haven't seen anybody."
+
+"The family are soon coming to Brierley House, Mrs. Jersey says. I
+daresay you will see somebody then."
+
+"I don't believe we shall. The English don't like strangers, I tell
+you, Dolly, unless they come recommended by something or other;--and
+there is nothing to recommend us."
+
+Mrs. Copley uttered this last sentence with such a dismal sort of
+realisation, that Dolly laughed out.
+
+"You are too modest, mother. I do not believe things are as bad as
+that."
+
+"You will see," said her mother. "And I hope you will stop going to see
+the housekeeper then."
+
+"I do not know why I should," said Dolly quietly.
+
+However, this question began to occupy her; not the question of her
+visiting Mrs. Jersey or of any one else visiting them; but this
+prolonged living alone to which her mother and she seemed to be
+condemned. It was not good, and it was not right; and Dolly saw that it
+was beginning to work unfavourably upon Mrs. Copley's health and
+spirits. But London? and a lodging-house? That would be worse yet; and
+for a house to themselves in London Dolly did not believe the means
+were at hand.
+
+Lately, things had been less promising. Mr. Copley seemed to be not so
+ready with his money; and he did not look well. Yes, he was well, he
+said when she asked him; nevertheless, her anxious eye read the old
+signs. She had not noticed them during the winter, or but slightly and
+rarely. Whether Mr. Copley had been making a vigorous effort to be as
+good as his word and spare Dolly pain; whether his sense of character
+had asserted itself, whether he had been so successful in speculation
+or play that he did not need opiates and could do without irritants; I
+do not know. There had been an interval. Now, Dolly began to be
+conscious again of the loss of freshness, the undue flush, the weak
+eyes, the unsteady mouth, the uneven gait. A stranger as yet might have
+passed it all by without notice; Dolly knew the change from her
+father's former quick, confident movements, iron nerves and muscular
+activity. And what was almost worse than all to her, among indications
+of his being entered on a downward course, she noticed that now he
+avoided her eye; looked at her, but preferred not meeting her look. I
+cannot tell how dreadful this was to Dolly. She had been always
+accustomed, until lately, to respect her father and to see him
+respected; to look at him as holding his place among men with much more
+than the average of influence and power; he was apt to do what he
+wished to do, and also to make other men do it. He was recognised as a
+leader in all parties and plans in which he took any share; Mr.
+Copley's word was quoted and Mr. Copley's lead was followed; and as is
+the case with all such men, his confidence in himself had been one of
+his sources of power and means of success. Dolly had been all her life
+accustomed to this as the natural and normal condition of things. Now
+she saw that her father had ceased to respect himself. The agony this
+revelation brought to Mr. Copley's loyal little daughter, it is
+impossible to tell. She felt it almost unbearable, shrank from it,
+would have closed her eyes to it; but Dolly was one of those whose
+vision is not clouded but rather made more keen by affection; and she
+failed to see nothing that was before her.
+
+The ministry Dolly applied to this new old trouble was of the most
+exquisite kind. Without making it obtrusive, she bestowed upon her
+father a sort of service the like of which not all the interest of
+courts can obtain for their kings. She was tender of him, with a
+tenderness that came like the touch of a soft summer wind; coming and
+going, and coming again. It calls for no answer or return; only it is
+there with its blessing, comforting tired nerves and soothing ruffled
+spirits. Mr. Copley hardly knew what Dolly was doing; hardly knew that
+it was Dolly; when now it was a gentle touch on his arm, leading him to
+the tea-table, and now a specially prepared cup, and Dolly bringing it,
+and standing before him smiling and tasting it, looking at him over it.
+And Mr. Copley certainly thought at such times that a prettier vision
+was not to be seen in the whole United Kingdom. Another time she would
+perch herself upon his knee and stroke back his hair from his temples,
+with fingers so delicate it was like the touch of a fairy; and then
+sometimes she would lay her head caressingly down on his shoulder; and
+though at such times Dolly could willingly have broken her heart in
+weeping, she let Mr. Copley see nothing but smiles, and suffered scarce
+so much as a stray sigh to come to his ear.
+
+"Have you seen anything of the great people?" he asked one evening,
+when Dolly had moved his sudden admiration.
+
+"Do you mean the people at the House?" his wife said. "No, of course.
+Don't you know, Mr. Copley, you must be great yourself to have the
+great look at you."
+
+"Humph! There are different ways of being great. I shouldn't wonder,
+now, if you could show Lady Brierley as much as Lady Brierley could
+show you--in some ways."
+
+"What extravagant notions you do have, Frank," said his wife. "You are
+so much of an American, you forget everybody around you is English."
+
+"Lady Brierley has been only a little while come home," said Dolly. "We
+need not discuss her yet."
+
+And so speaking, Dolly brought out the Bible. The reading with her
+mother had become a regular thing now, greatly helpful to Mrs. Copley's
+good rest, Dolly believed, both by day and night; and latterly when he
+had been at the cottage her father had not run away when she brought
+her book. Alone with her mother, Dolly had long since added prayer to
+the reading; not yet in her father's presence. Her heart beat a little,
+it cost an effort; all the same Dolly knew it must now be done. With a
+grave little face she brought out her Bible, laid it on the table, and
+opened it at the fifth chapter of Matthew.
+
+"Here comes our domestic chaplain!" said her father. Dolly looked up at
+him and smiled.
+
+"Then of course you would not interfere with anything the chaplain
+does?" she said.
+
+"Only not preach," said her father in the same tone. "I don't approve
+of any but licensed preaching. And that one need not hear unless one
+has a mind to."
+
+"I let the Bible do the preaching, generally," said Dolly. "But we do
+pray, father."
+
+"Who?" said Mr. Copley quickly. "Your mother and you? Everybody prays,
+I hope, now and then."
+
+"We do it now, and then too, father. Or rather, _I_ do it now, after
+reading."
+
+Mr. Copley made no reply; and Dolly went on, feeling that the way was
+open to her, if it were also a little difficult to tread. She read part
+of the chapter, feeling every word through and through. Alas, alas,
+alas! The "poor in spirit," the "pure in heart," the "meek,"--where
+were these? and what had their blessing to do with the ears to which
+she was reading? The "persecuted for righteousness' sake,"--how she
+knew her father and mother would lay that off upon the martyrs of olden
+time, with whom and their way of life, they thought, the present time
+has nothing to do! and so, with the persecuted dismiss the meek and the
+pure. The blessings referred certainly to a peculiar set of persons; no
+one is called on in these days to endure persecution. Dolly knew how
+they would escape applying what they heard to themselves; and she knew,
+with her heart full, what they were missing thereby. She went on,
+feeling every word so thrillingly that it was no wonder they came from
+her lips with a very peculiar and moving utterance; that is the way
+with words that are spoken from the heart; and although indeed the
+lovely sentences might have passed by her hearers, as trite or
+unintelligible or obsolete, the inflexions of Dolly's voice caught the
+hearts of both parents and stirred them involuntarily with an answering
+thrill. She did not know it; she did know that they were very still and
+listening; and after the reading was done, though she trembled a
+little, her own feelings were so roused that it was not very difficult
+for Dolly to kneel down by the table and pray.
+
+But she had only scanty opportunities of working upon her father in
+this or in any way; Mr. Copley's visits to Brierley, always short,
+began now to be more and more infrequent.
+
+As weeks went on and the spring slipped by, another thing was
+unmistakable about these visits; Mr. Copley brought less money with
+him. Through the autumn and winter, the needs of the little household
+had been indifferently well supplied. Dolly had paid her servants and
+had money for her butcher and grocer. Now this was no longer always the
+case. Mr. Copley came sometimes with empty pockets and a very thin
+pocket-book; he had forgotten, he said; or, he would make it all right
+next time. Which Dolly found out he never did. Her servants' wages
+began to get in arrear, and Dolly herself consequently into anxious
+perplexity. She had, she knew, a little private stock of her own,
+gained by her likenesses and other drawings; but like a wise little
+woman as she was, Dolly resolved she would not touch it unless she came
+to extremity. But what should she do? Just one thing she was clear
+upon; she would _not_ run in debt; she would not have what she could
+not pay for. She paid off one servant and dismissed her. This could not
+happen without the knowledge of Mrs. Copley.
+
+"But however are you going to manage?  the latter asked in much concern.
+
+"Honestly, mother. Oh, and nicely too. You will see. I must be a poor
+thing if I could not keep these little rooms in order."
+
+"And make beds? and set tables? and wash dishes?"
+
+"I like to set tables. And what is it to wash two cups and spoons? And
+if I make the beds, we shall have them comfortable."
+
+"Jane certainly had her own ideas about making beds, and they were
+different from mine," said Mrs. Copley. "But I hate to have you, Dolly.
+It will make your hands red and rough."
+
+"Nothing does that for my hands, luckily, mother, dear. Don't you mind.
+We shall get on nicely."
+
+"But what's the matter? haven't you got money enough?"
+
+"Mother, I won't have servants that I cannot pay punctually."
+
+"Don't your father give you money to pay them?"
+
+"He gave me money enough to pay part; so I pay part, and send the other
+part away," said Dolly gaily.
+
+"I _hope_ he has not got into speculation again," said Mrs. Copley. "I
+can't think what he busies himself about in London."
+
+This subject Dolly changed as fast as she could. She feared something
+worse than speculation. Whether it were cards, or dice, or betting, or
+more business-like forms of the vice, however, the legitimate
+consequences were not slow to come; the supply of money for the little
+household down at Brierley became like the driblets of a stream which
+has been led off from its proper bed by a side channel; only a few
+trickling drops instead of the full, natural current. Dolly could not
+get from her father the means to pay the wages of her remaining
+servant. This was towards the beginning of summer.
+
+Dolly pondered now very seriously what she should do. The lack of a
+housemaid she had made up quite comfortably with her own two busy
+hands; Mrs. Copley at least had been in particular comfort, whenever
+she did not get a fit of fretting on Dolly's account; and Dolly herself
+had been happy, though unquestionably the said hands had been very
+busy. Now what lay before her was another thing. She could not consult
+her mother, and there was nobody else to consult; she must even make up
+her mind as to the line of duty the best way she might; and however the
+difficulty and even the impossibility of doing without anybody stared
+her in the face, it was constantly met by the greater impossibility of
+taking what she could not pay for. Dolly made up her mind on the
+negative view of the case; what she _could_ being not clear, only what
+she could not. She would dismiss her remaining servant, and do the
+cooking herself. It would be only for two. And perhaps, she thought,
+this step would go further to bring her father to his senses than any
+other step she could take.
+
+Dolly, however, went wisely to work. Quite alone in the house she and
+her mother could not be. She went to her friend Mrs. Jersey and talked
+the matter over with her; and through her got a little girl, a small
+farmer's daughter, to come and do the rough work. She let her mother
+know as little as possible about the matter; she took some of her own
+little stock and paid off the cook, representing to her mother no more
+than that she had exchanged the one helpmeet for the other. But poor
+Dolly found presently that she did not know how to cook. How should she?
+
+"What's become of all our good bread?" said Mrs. Copley, a day or two
+after the change. "And, Dolly, I don't know what you call this, but if
+it is meant for hash, it is a mistake."
+
+Dolly heard in awed silence; and when dinner and breakfast had seen
+repeated animadversions of the like kind, she made up her mind again
+and took her measures. She went to her friend Mrs. Jersey, and asked
+her to teach her to make bread.
+
+"To make bread!" the good housekeeper repeated in astonishment. "You,
+Miss Dolly? Can that be necessary?"
+
+"Mother cannot eat poor bread," said Dolly simply. "And there is nobody
+but me to make it. I think I can learn, Mrs. Jersey; cannot I?"
+
+The tears stood in the good woman's eyes. "But, my dear Miss Dolly,"
+she began anxiously, "this is a serious matter. You do not look very
+strong. Who does the rest of the cooking? Pardon me for being so bold
+to ask; but I am concerned about you."
+
+Therewith Dolly's own eyes became moist; however, it would never do to
+take that tone; so she shook off the feeling, and confessed she was the
+sole cook in her mother's establishment, and that for her mother's
+well-doing it was quite needful that what she eat should be good and
+palatable. And Dolly declared she would like to know how to do things,
+and be independent.
+
+"You've got the realest sort of independence," said the housekeeper.
+"Well, my dear, come, and I'll teach you all you want to know."
+
+There followed now a series of visits to the House, in which Mrs.
+Jersey thoroughly fulfilled her promise. In the kind housekeeper's room
+Dolly learned not only to make bread and biscuit, and everything else
+that can be concocted of flour, but she was taught how to cook a bit of
+beefsteak, how to broil a chicken, how to make omelettes and salads and
+a number of delicate French dishes; stews and soups and ragouts and no
+end of comfortable things. Dolly was in great earnest, therefore lost
+not a hint and never forgot a direction; she was quick and keen to
+learn; and Mrs. Jersey soon declared laughingly that she believed she
+was born to be a cook.
+
+"And it goes great qualities to that, Miss Dolly," she said. "You
+needn't take it as low praise. There are people, no doubt, that are
+nothing _but_ cooks; that's the fault of something else, I always
+believe. Whoever can be a real cook can be something better if he has a
+chance and a will."
+
+"It seems to me, it is just common sense, Mrs. Jersey."
+
+"I suppose you are not going to tell me that _that_ grows on every
+bush? Yes, common sense has a great deal to do, no doubt; but one must
+have another sort of sense; one must know when a thing is right; and
+one must be able to tell the moment of time when it is right, and then
+one must be decided and quick to take it then and not let it have the
+other moment which would make it all wrong. Now, Miss Dolly, I see you
+know when to take off an omelette--and yet you couldn't tell me how you
+know."
+
+Dolly's learning was indeed by practising with her own hands. One day
+it happened that Lady Brierley had come into the housekeeper's room to
+see about some arrangements she was making for Mrs. Jersey's comfort.
+While she was there, Dolly opened the door from an adjoining light
+closet, with her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and her arms dusted
+with flour. Seeing somebody whom she did not know, Dolly retreated,
+shutting the door after her.
+
+"Whom have you got there, Mrs. Jersey?" said the lady, forgetting what
+she had come about. "That girl is too handsome to be among the maids."
+
+"She's not among the maids, my lady. She is not in the house. She only
+came to get some instruction from me, which I was very glad to give
+her?"
+
+"Of course. That is quite in your way. But she does not belong in the
+village, I think?"
+
+"No, my lady, nor hereabouts at all, properly. She lives in Brierley
+Cottage; she and her mother; I believe the father is there now and by
+times, but they live alone mostly, and he is in London. They have been
+much better off; and last year they went travelling all through Europe.
+I thought I should never see them again; but here they are back, and
+have been for a year."
+
+"I think I have heard of them. Are they poor?"
+
+"I am much afraid so, my lady."
+
+"Would it do any good, Jersey, if I went there?"
+
+"It would be a great kindness, my lady. I think it might do good."
+
+The final result of all which was a visit. It was now full summer; the
+season had come into its full bloom and luxuriance. Roses were opening
+their sweet buds all around Brierley Cottage; the honeysuckles made the
+porch into an arbour; the garden was something of a wilderness, but a
+wilderness of lovely, old-fashioned things. One warm afternoon, Dolly
+with a shears in her hand had gone out into the garden to cut off the
+full-blown roses, which to-morrow would shed their leaves; doing a
+little trimming by the way, both of rose-bushes and other things; the
+wildering of the garden had been so great. And very busy she was, and
+enjoying it; "cutting in" here, and "cutting out" there, flinging the
+refuse shoots and twigs carelessly from her into the walk to be
+gathered up afterwards. She was so busy she never heard the roll of
+carriage wheels, never heard them stop, nor the gate open; knew
+nothing, in fact, but the work she was busy with, till a slight sound
+on the gravel near by made her look round. Then she saw at one glance
+the lady standing there in laces and feathers, the carriage waiting
+outside the gate, and the servants in attendance around it. Dolly shook
+herself free of the roses and stepped forward, knowing very well who it
+must be. A little fresh colour had been brought into her cheeks by her
+exercise and the interest in her work; a little extra flush came now,
+with the surprise of this apparition. She was as lovely as one of her
+own rose-branches, and the wind had blown her hair about, which was
+always wayward, we know, giving perhaps to the great lady the
+impression of equal want of training. But she was very lovely, and the
+visitor could not take her eyes off her.
+
+"You are Miss--Copley?" she said. "I have heard Mrs. Jersey speak of
+you."
+
+"Mrs. Jersey is a very kind friend to me," said Dolly. "Will Lady
+Brierley walk in?"
+
+Mrs. Jersey is her friend, thought the lady as she followed Dolly into
+the cottage. Probably she is just of that level, and my coming is
+thrown away. However, she went in. The little cottage sitting-room was
+again something of a puzzle to her; it was not rich, but neither did it
+look like anything Mrs. Jersey would have contrived for her own
+accommodation. Flowers filled the chimney and stood in vases or
+baskets; books lay on one table, on the other drawing materials; and
+simple as everything was, there was nevertheless in everything the
+evidence, negative as well as positive, that the tastes at home there
+were refined and delicate and cultivated. It is difficult to tell just
+how the impression comes upon a stranger, but it came upon Lady
+Brierley before she had taken her seat. Dolly too, the more she looked
+at her, puzzled her. She had set down her basket of roses and thrown
+off her garden hat, and now opened the blinds which shaded the room too
+much, and took a chair near her visitor. The girl's manner, the lady
+saw, was extremely composed; she did not seem at all fluttered at the
+honour done her, and offered her attentions with a manner of simple
+courtesy which was graceful enough but perfectly cool. So cool, that it
+rather excited Lady Brierley's curiosity, who was accustomed to be a
+person of great importance wherever she went. Her eye took in swiftly
+the neatness of the room, its plainness, and yet its expression of life
+and mental activity; the work and workbasket on the chair, the bunch of
+ferns and amaranthus in one vase, the roses in another, the violets on
+the table, the physiognomy of the books, which were not from the next
+circulating library, the drawing materials; and then came back to the
+figure seated before her, with the tossed, beautiful hair and the very
+delicate, spirited face; and it crossed Lady Brierley's mind, if she
+had a daughter like that!--with the advantages and bringing up she
+could have given her, what would she not have been! And the next
+thought was, she was glad that her son was in Russia. Dolly had opened
+the window and sat quietly down. She knew her mother would not wish to
+be called. Once, months ago, Dolly had a little hoped for this visit,
+and thought it might bring her a pleasant friend, or social
+acquaintance at least; now that so long time had passed since Lady
+Brierley's return, with no sign of kindness from the great house, she
+had given up any such expectation; and so cared nothing about the
+visit. Dolly's mind was stayed elsewhere; she did not need Lady
+Brierley; and it was in part the beautiful, disengaged grace of her
+manner which drew the lady's curiosity.
+
+"I did not know Brierley Cottage was such a pretty place," she began.
+
+"It is quite comfortable," said Dolly. "Now in summer, when the flowers
+are out, I think it is very pretty."
+
+"You are fond of flowers. I found you pruning your rose-bushes, were
+you not?"
+
+"Yes," said Dolly. "The old man who used to attend to it has left me in
+the lurch since we went away. If I did not trim them, they would go
+untrimmed. They do go untrimmed, as it is."
+
+"Is there no skill required?"
+
+"Oh yes," said Dolly, her face wrinkling all up with fun; "but I have
+enough for that. I have learned so much. And pruning is very pretty
+work. This is not just the time for it."
+
+"How can it be pretty? I do not understand."
+
+"No, I suppose not," said Dolly. "But I think it is pretty to cut out
+the dead wood which is unsightly, and cut away the old wood which can
+be spared, leaving the best shoots for blossoming the next year. And
+then the trimming in of overgrown bushes, so as to have neat, compact,
+graceful shrubs, instead of wild, awkward-growing things--it is
+constant pleasure, for every touch tells; and the rose-bushes, I
+believe seem almost like intelligent creatures to me."
+
+"But you would not deal with intelligent creatures so?"
+
+"The Lord does," said Dolly quietly.
+
+"What do you mean?" said the lady sharply. "I do not understand your
+meaning."
+
+"I did not mean that all people were rose-bushes," said Dolly, with
+again an exquisite gleam of amusement in her face.
+
+"But will you not be so good as to explain? What _can_ you mean, by
+your former remark?"
+
+"It is not a very deep meaning," said Dolly with a little sigh. "You
+know, Lady Brierley, the Bible likens the Lord's people, Christians, to
+plants in the Lord's garden; and the Lord is the husbandman; and where
+He sees that a plant is growing too rank and wild, He prunes it--cuts
+it in--that it may be thriftier and healthier and do its work better."
+
+"That's a dreadful idea! Where did you get it?"
+
+"Christ said so," Dolly answered, looking now in the face of her
+questioner. "Is it a dreadful idea? It does not seem so to me. He is
+the husbandman. And I would not like to be a useless branch."
+
+"You have been on the Continent lately?" Lady Brierley quitted the
+former subject.
+
+"Yes; last year."
+
+"You went to my old lodging-house at Sorrento, I think I heard from
+Mrs. Jersey. Did you find it comfortable?"
+
+"Oh, delightful!" said Dolly with a breath which told much. "Nothing
+could be nicer, or lovelier."
+
+"Then you enjoyed life in Italy?"
+
+"Very much. But indeed I enjoyed it everywhere."
+
+"What gave you so much pleasure? I envy you. Now I go all over Europe,
+and find nothing particular to hold me anywhere. And I see by the way
+you speak that it was not so with you."
+
+"No," said Dolly, half smiling. "Europe was like a great, real
+fairyland to me. I feel as if I had been travelling in fairyland."
+
+"Do indulge me and tell me how that was? The novelty, perhaps."
+
+"Novelty is pleasant enough," said Dolly, "but I do not think it was
+the novelty. Rome was more fascinating the last week than it was the
+first."
+
+"Ah, Rome! there one never gets to the end of the novelties."
+
+"It was not that," said Dolly shaking her head. "I grew absolutely fond
+of the gladiator; and Raphael's Michael conquering the dragon was much
+more beautiful to me the last time I saw it than ever it was before;
+and so of a thousand other things. They seemed to grow into my heart.
+So at Venice. The palace of the doges--I did not appreciate it at
+first. It was only by degrees that I learned to appreciate it."
+
+"Your taste for art has been uncommonly cultivated!"
+
+"No" said Dolly. "I do not know anything about art. Till this journey I
+had never seen much."
+
+"There is a little to see at Brierley," said the lady of the house. "I
+should like to show it to you."
+
+"I should like dearly to see it again," said Dolly. "Your ladyship is
+very kind. Mrs. Jersey did show me the house once, when we first came
+here; and I was delighted with some of the pictures, and the old
+carvings. It was all so unlike anything at home."
+
+"At home?" said Lady Brierley enquiringly.
+
+"I mean, in America."
+
+"Novelty again," said the lady, smiling, for she could not help liking
+Dolly.
+
+"No," said Dolly, "not that. It was far more than that. It was the real
+beauty,--and then, it was the tokens of a family which had had power
+enough to write its history all along. There was the power, and the
+history; and such a strange breath of other days. There is nothing like
+that in America.''
+
+"Then we shall keep you in England?" said Lady Brierley still with a
+pleased smile.
+
+"I do not know," said Dolly; but her face clouded over and lost the
+brightness which had been in it a moment before.
+
+"I see you would rather return," said her visitor. "Perhaps you have
+not been long enough here to feel at home with us?"
+
+"I have been here for several years," said Dolly. "Ever since I was
+fifteen years old."
+
+"That is long enough to make friends."
+
+"I have not made friends," said Dolly. "My mother's health has kept her
+at home--and I have stayed with her."
+
+"But, my dear, you are just at an age when it is natural to want
+friends and to enjoy them. In later life one learns to be sufficient to
+one's self; but not at eighteen. I am afraid Brierley must be sadly
+lonely to you."
+
+"Oh no," said Dolly, with her sweet gleam of a smile, which went all
+over her face; "I am not lonesome."
+
+"Will you come and see me sometimes?"
+
+"If I can. Thank you, Lady Brierley."
+
+"You seem to me to be a good deal of a philosopher," said the lady, who
+evidently still found Dolly a puzzle. "Or is it rather an artist, that
+I should say?"--glancing at the drawing-table--"I know artists are very
+sufficient to themselves."
+
+"I am neither one nor the other," said Dolly, laughing.
+
+"You are not apathetic--I can see that. What is your secret, Miss
+Copley?"
+
+"I beg your pardon--what secret does your ladyship mean?"
+
+"Your secret of content and self-reliance. Pardon me--but you excite my
+envy and curiosity at once."
+
+Dolly's look went back to the fire. "I have no secret," she said
+gravely. "I am not a philosopher. I am afraid I am not always
+contented. And yet I _am_ content," she added, "with whatever the Lord
+gives me. I know it is good."
+
+Lady Brierley saw tears in the eyes, which were so singularly wise and
+innocent at once. She was more and more interested, but would not
+follow Dolly's last lead. "What do you draw?" she asked, again turning
+her head towards the drawing materials.
+
+"Whatever comes in my way," said Dolly. "Likenesses, sometimes; little
+bits of anything I like."
+
+Lady Brierley begged to be shown a specimen of the likenesses; and
+forthwith persuaded Dolly to come and make a picture of herself. With
+which agreement the visit ended.
+
+If she had come some months ago, thought Dolly as she looked after the
+retreating figure of her visitor, I should have liked it. She might
+have been a friend, and a great help. Now, I don't think you can, my
+lady!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+HANDS FULL.
+
+Dolly was, however, partly mistaken. Lady Brierley was a help. First,
+for the likenesses. Dolly painted so charming a little picture of her
+ladyship that it was a perpetual letter of recommendation; Lady
+Brierley's friends desired to have Dolly's pencil do the same service
+for them; neighbouring families saw and admired her work and came to
+beg to have her skill exerted on their behalf; and, in short, orders
+flowed in upon Dolly to the full occupation of all the time she had to
+give to them. They paid well, too. For that, Dolly had referred to Lady
+Brierley to say what the price ought to be; and Lady Brierley, guessing
+need on the one hand and knowing abundance on the other, had set the
+price at a very pretty figure; and money quite piled itself up in
+Dolly's secret hoard. She was very glad of it; for her supplies from
+her father became more and more precarious. He seemed to shut his eyes
+when he came to Brierley, and not recognise the fact that anything was
+wanting or missing. And well Dolly knew that such wilful oversight
+could never happen if Mr. Copley were himself doing true and faithful
+work; she knew he was going in false and dangerous ways, without being
+able to follow him and see just what they were. Her one comfort was,
+that her mother did not seem to read the signs that were so terribly
+legible to herself.
+
+And here too Lady Brierley's new-found friendship was of use. She
+wrought a diversion for the girl's troubled spirits. She was constantly
+having Dolly at the House. Dolly objected to leaving her mother; at the
+same time Mrs. Copley very much objected to have Dolly stay at home
+when such chances offered; so, at first to paint, and then to give her
+sweet company, Dolly went often, and spent hours at a time with Lady
+Brierley, who on her part grew more and more fond of having the little
+American girl in her society. Dolly was a novelty, and a mystery, and a
+beauty. Lady Brierley's son was in Russia; so there was no harm in her
+being a beauty, but the contrary; it was pleasant to the eyes. And
+Dolly was _naive_, and fresh, and independent too, with a manner as
+fearless and much more frank than Lady Brierley's own, and yet with as
+simple a reserve of womanly dignity as any lady could have; and how a
+girl that painted likenesses for money, and made her own bread, and
+learned cookery of Mrs. Jersey, could talk to Lord Brierley with such
+sweet, quiet freedom, was a puzzle most puzzling to the great lady. So
+it was to others, for at Brierley House Dolly often saw a great deal of
+company. It did her good; it refreshed her; it gave her a world of
+things to tell for the amusement of her mother; and besides all that,
+she felt that Lady Brierley was really a friend, and would be kind if
+occasion were; indeed, she was kind now.
+
+Dolly needed it all, for darker days were coming, and the shadow of
+them was "cast before," as the manner is. With every visit of Mr.
+Copley to the cottage, Dolly grew more uneasy. He was not looking well,
+nor happy, nor easy; his manner was constrained, his spirits were
+forced; and for all that appeared, he might suppose that Dolly and her
+mother could live on air. He gave them nothing else to live on. What
+did he live on himself, Dolly queried, besides wine? and she made up
+her mind that, hard as it was, and doubtful as the effect, she must
+have a talk with him the next time he came down. "O father, father!"
+she cried to herself in the bitterness of her heart, "how can you! how
+can you! how can you! It never, never ought to be, that a child is
+ashamed for her father! The world is turned upside down."
+
+How intensely bitter it was, the children who have always been proud of
+their parents can never know. Dolly wrung her hands sometimes, in a
+distress that was beyond tears; and then devoted herself with redoubled
+ardour to her mother, to prevent her from finding out how things were
+going. She would have a plain talk with her father the next time he
+came, very difficult as she felt it would be; things could not go on as
+they were; or at least, not without ending in a thorough breakdown. But
+what we purpose is one thing; what we are able to execute is often
+quite another thing.
+
+It was a week or two before Mr. Copley made his appearance. Dolly was
+looking from the window, and saw the village fly drive up and her
+father get out of it. She announced the fact to her mother, and then
+ran down to the garden gate to meet him. As their hands encountered at
+the gate, Dolly almost fell back; took her hand from the latch, and
+only put it forth again when she saw that her father could not readily
+get the gate open. He was looking ill; his gait was tottering, his eye
+wavering, and when he spoke his utterance was confused. Dolly felt as
+if a lump of ice had suddenly come where her heart used to be.
+
+"You are not well, father?" she said as they went up the walk together.
+
+"Well enough," returned Mr. Copley--"all right directly. Cursed wet
+weather--got soaked to the bone--haven't got warm yet."
+
+"Wet weather!" said Dolly; "why, it is very sunny and warm. What are
+you thinking of, father?"
+
+"Sun don't _always_ shine in England," said Mr. Copley. "Let me get in
+and have a cup of tea or coffee. You don't keep such a thing as brandy
+in the house, do you?"
+
+"You have had brandy enough already," said Dolly in a low, grave voice.
+"I will make some coffee. Come in--why, you are trembling, father! Are
+you _cold?_"
+
+"Haven't been warm for three days. Cold? yes. Coffee, Dolly, let me
+have some coffee. It's the vilest climate a man ever lived in."
+
+"Why, father," said Dolly, laying her hand on his sleeve, "your coat is
+wet! What have you done to yourself?"
+
+"Wet? no,--it isn't. I put on a dry coat to come down--wouldn't be
+such a fool as to put on a wet one. Coffee, Dolly! It's cold enough for
+a fire."
+
+"But how _did_ your coat get wet, father?"
+
+"'Tisn't wet. I left a wet coat in London--had enough of it. If you go
+out in England you must get wet. Give me some coffee, if you haven't
+got any brandy. I tell you, I've never been warm since."
+
+Dolly ran up stairs, where Mrs. Copley was making a little alteration
+in her dress.
+
+"Mother," she cried, "will you go down and take care of father? He is
+not well; I am afraid he has taken cold; I am going to make him some
+coffee as fast as I can. Get him to change his coat;--it is wet."
+
+Then Dolly ran down again, every nerve in her trembling, but forcing
+herself to go steadily and methodically to work. She made a cup of
+strong coffee, cooked a nice bit of beefsteak she had in the house,
+rejoicing that she had it; and while the steak was doing she made a
+plate of toast, such as she knew both father and mother were fond of.
+In half an hour she had it all ready and carried it up on a tray. Mrs.
+Copley was sitting with an anxious and perplexed face watching her
+husband; he had crept to the empty fireplace and was leaning towards it
+as towards a place whence comfort ought to be looked for. His wife had
+persuaded him to exchange the wet coat for an old dressing-gown, which
+change, however, seemed to have wrought no bettering of affairs.
+
+"What is the matter?" said poor Mrs. Copley with a scared face. "I
+can't make out anything from what he says."
+
+"He has caught cold, I think," said Dolly very quietly; though her face
+was white, and all the time of her ministrations in the kitchen she had
+worked with that feeling of ice at her heart. "Father, here is your
+coffee, and it is good; maybe this will make you feel better."
+
+She had set her dishes nicely on the table; she had poured out the
+coffee and cut a piece of the steak; but Mr. Copley would look at no
+food. He drank a little coffee, and set the cup down.
+
+"Sloppy stuff! Haven't you got any brandy?"
+
+"You have had brandy already this afternoon, father. Take the coffee
+now."
+
+"Brandy? my teeth were chattering, and I took a wretched glass
+somewhere. Do give me some more, Dolly! and stop this shaking."
+
+"Where did you get cold, Mr. Copley?" asked his wife. "You have caught
+a terrible cold."
+
+"Nothing of the kind. I am all right. Just been in the rain; rain'll
+wet any man; my coat's got it."
+
+"But _when_, Frank?" urged his wife. "There has been no rain to-day; it
+is clear, hot summer weather. When were you in the rain?"
+
+"I don't know. Rain's rain. It don't signify when. Have you got nothing
+better than this? I shall not stop shaking till morning."
+
+And he did not. They got him to bed, and sat and watched by him, the
+mother and daughter; watching the feverish trembling, and the feverish
+flush that gradually rose in his cheeks. They could get no more
+information as to the cause of the mischief. The truth was, that two or
+three nights previous, Mr. Copley had sat long at play and drunk
+freely; lost freely too; so that when at last he went home, his
+condition of mind and body was so encumbered and confused that he took
+no account of the fact that it was raining heavily. He was heated, and
+the outer air was refreshing; Mr. Copley walked home to his lodgings;
+was of course drenched through; and on getting home had no longer
+clearness of perception enough in exercise to know that he must take
+off his wet clothes. How he passed the night he never knew; but the
+morning found him very miserable, and he had been miserable ever since.
+Pains and aches, flushes of heat, creepings of inexplicable cold, would
+not be chased away by any potations his landlady recommended or by the
+stronger draughts to which Mr. Copley's habits bade him recur; and the
+third day, with something of the same sort of dumb instinct which makes
+a wounded or sick animal draw back to cover, he threw himself into the
+post coach and went down to Brierley. Naturally, he took advantage of
+stopping places by the way to get something to warm him; and so reached
+home at last in an altogether muddled and disordered state of mind and
+body.
+
+Neither Mrs. Copley nor Dolly would go to bed that night. Not that
+there was much to do, but there was much to fear; and they clung in
+their fear to each other's company. Mrs. Copley dozed in an easy-chair
+part of the time; and Dolly sat at the open window with her head on the
+sill and lost herself there in slumber that was hardly refreshing. The
+night saw no change; and the morning was welcome, as the morning is in
+times of sickness, because it brought stir and the necessity of work to
+be done.
+
+It was still early when Dolly, after refreshing herself with water and
+changing her dress, went downstairs. She opened the hall door, and
+stood still a moment. The summer morning met her outside, fresh with
+dew, heavy with the scent of roses, musical with the song of birds;
+dim, sweet, full of life, breathing loveliness, folding its loveliness
+in mystery. As yet, things could be seen but confusedly; the dark bank
+of Brierley Park with its giant trees rose up against the sky, there
+was no gleam on the little river, the outlines of nearer trees and
+bushes were merged and indistinct; but what a hum and stir and warble
+and chitter of happy creatures! how many creatures to be happy! and
+what a warm breath of incense told of the blessings of the summer day
+in store for them! For them, and not for Dolly? It smote her hard, the
+question and the answer. It was for her too; it ought to be for her;
+the Lord's will was that all His creatures should be happy; and some of
+his creatures would not! Some refused the rich invitation, and would
+neither take themselves nor let others take the bountiful, tender,
+blessed gifts of God. It came to Dolly with an unspeakable sore pain.
+Yes, the Lord's will was peace and joy and plenty for them all; fulness
+of gracious supply; the singing of delighted hearts, loving and
+praising Him. And men made their own choice to have something else, and
+brought bitterness into what was meant to be only sweet. Tears came
+slowly into her eyes, mournful tears, and rolled down her cheeks
+hopelessly. Whatever was to become now of her little family? Her
+father, she feared, was entering upon a serious illness, which might
+last no one knew how long. Who would nurse him? and if Dolly did, who
+would do the work of the household? and if her father was laid by for
+any considerable time, whence were needful supplies to come from?
+Dolly's little stock would not last for ever. And how would her mother
+stand the strain and the care and the fatigue? It seemed to Dolly as
+she stood there at the door, that her sky was closing in and the ground
+giving way beneath her feet. Usually she kept up her courage bravely;
+just now it failed.
+
+"Dolly," her mother's voice came smothered from over the balusters of
+the upper hall.
+
+"Yes, mother?"
+
+"Send Nelly for the doctor as soon as you can."
+
+"Yes, mother. As soon as it is light enough."
+
+The doctor! that was another thought. Then there would be the doctor's
+bill. But at this point Dolly caught herself up. "_Take no thought for
+the morrow_"--what did that mean? "_Be careful for nothing;_ but in
+everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your
+requests be made known unto God." And, "Who shall separate us from the
+love of Christ?" The words loosed the bands which seemed to have bound
+Dolly's heart in iron; she broke down, fell down on her knees in the
+porch, resting her head on the seat, and burst into a thunder-shower of
+weeping, which greatly cleared the air and relieved the oppression
+under which she had been labouring. This was nearly as uncommon a thing
+for Dolly as her former hopeless mood; she rose up feeling shaken, and
+yet strengthened. Ready for duty.
+
+She went into the little sitting-room, set open the casement, and put
+the furniture in order, dusting and arranging. Leaving that all right,
+Dolly went down to the kitchen and made the fire. She was thinking what
+she should do for breakfast, when her little handmaid made her
+appearance. Dolly gave her some bread and butter and cold coffee, and
+sent her off to the village with a note to the doctor which she had
+meanwhile prepared. Left to herself then, she put on her kettle, and
+looked at the untouched pieces of beefsteak she had cooked last night.
+She knew what to do with them, thanks to Mrs. Jersey. The next thing
+was to go out into the dewy garden and get a handful of different herbs
+and vegetables growing there; and what she did with them I will not
+say; but in a little while Dolly had a most savoury mess prepared. Then
+she crept upstairs to her mother. Here everything was just as it had
+been all night. Dolly whispered to her mother to come down and have
+some breakfast. Mrs. Copley shook her head.
+
+"You must, mother, dear. I have got something nice--and father is
+sleeping; he don't want you. Come! I have got it in the kitchen, for
+Nelly is away, and it's less trouble, and keeps the coffee hot. Come!
+father won't want anything for a little while, and you and I do, and
+must have it, or we cannot stand what is on our hands. Come, mother.
+Wash your face, and it will refresh you, and come right down."
+
+The little kitchen was very neat; the window was open and the summer
+morning looking in; nobody was there but themselves; and so there might
+be many a worse place to take breakfast in. And the meal prepared was
+dainty, though simple. Mrs. Copley could not eat much, nor Dolly; and
+yet the form of coming to breakfast and the nicety of the preparation
+were a comfort; they always are; they seem to say that all things are
+not confusion, and give a kind of guaranty for the continuance of old
+ways. Still, Mrs. Copley did not eat much, and soon went back to her
+watch; and Dolly cleared the table and considered what she could have
+for dinner. For dinner must be as usual; on that she was determined.
+But the doctor's coming was the next thing on the programme.
+
+The doctor came and made his visit, and Dolly met him in the hall as he
+was going away. He was a comfortable-looking man, with the long English
+whiskers; ruddy and fleshy; one who, Dolly was sure, had no objection,
+for his own part, to a good glass of wine, or even a good measure of
+beer, if the wine were not forthcoming.
+
+"Your father, is it?" said the doctor. "Well, take care of him--take
+care of him."
+
+"How shall we take care of him, sir?"
+
+"Well, I've left medicines upstairs. He won't want much to eat; nor
+much of anything, for a day or two."
+
+"What is it? Cold?"
+
+"No, my young lady. Fever."
+
+"He got himself wet in the rain, a few days ago. He was shivering last
+night."
+
+"Very likely. That's fever. Must take its course. He's not shivering
+now."
+
+"Will he be long ill, sir, probably?"
+
+"Impossible to say. These things are not to be counted upon. May get up
+in a day or two, but far more likely not in a week or two. Good
+morning!"
+
+A week or two! Dolly stood and looked after the departing chaise which
+carried the functionary who gave judgment so easily on matters of life
+and death. The question came back. What would become of her mother and
+her, if watching and nursing had to be kept up for weeks?--with all the
+rest there was to do. Dolly felt very blue for a little while; then she
+shook it off again and took hold of her work. Nelly had returned by
+this time, with a knuckle of veal from the butcher's. Dolly put it on,
+to make the nicest possible delicate stew for her mother; and even for
+her father she thought the broth might, do. She gathered herbs and
+vegetables in the garden again, and a messenger came from Mrs. Jersey
+with a basket of strawberries; Dolly wrote a note to go back with the
+basket, and altogether had a busy morning of it. For bread had also to
+be made; and her small helpmate was good for only the simplest details
+of scrubbing and sweeping and washing dishes. It was with the greatest
+difficulty after all that Dolly coaxed her mother to come down to
+dinner; Nelly being left to keep watch the while and call them if
+anything was wanted.
+
+"I can't eat, Dolly!" Mrs. Copley said, when she was seated at Dolly's
+board.
+
+"Mother, it is necessary. See--this is what you like, and it is very
+good, I know. And these potatoes are excellent."
+
+"But, Dolly, he may be sick for weeks, for aught we can tell; it is a
+low fever. Oh, this is the worst of all we have had yet!" cried Mrs.
+Copley, wringing her hands.
+
+It did look so, and for a moment Dolly could not speak. Her heart
+seemed to stand still.
+
+"Mother, we don't know," she said. "We do not know anything. It may be
+no such matter; it may _not_ last so; the doctor cannot tell; and
+anyhow, mother, God does know and He will take care. We can trust Him,
+can't we? and meanwhile what you and I have to do is to keep up our
+strength and our faith and our spirits. Eat your dinner like a good
+woman. I am going to make a cup of tea for you. Perhaps father would
+take some."
+
+"And you," said Mrs. Copley, eyeing her. Dolly had a white kitchen
+apron on, it is true, but she was otherwise in perfect order and looked
+very lovely. "What about me?" she said.
+
+"Doing kitchen work! You, who are fit for--something so different!"
+Mrs. Copley had to get rid of some tears here.
+
+"Doing kitchen work? Yes, certainly, if that is the thing given me to
+do. Why not? Isn't my veal good? I'll do anything, mother, that comes
+to hand, provided I _can_ do it. Mother, we don't trust half enough.
+Remember who it is gives me the cooking to do. Shall I not do what He
+gives me? And I can tell you one little secret--I _like_ to do cooking.
+Isn't it good?"
+
+Mrs. Copley made a very respectable dinner after all.
+
+This was the manner of the beginning of Mr. Copley's illness. Faith and
+courage were well tried as the days went on; for though never violently
+ill, he never mended. Day and night the same tedious low fever held
+him, wearing down not his strength only but that of the two whose
+unaided hands had to manage all that was done. Dolly did not know where
+to look for a nurse, and Mrs. Copley was utterly unwilling to have one
+called in. She herself roused to the emergency and ceased to complain
+about her own troubles; she sat up night after night, with only partial
+help from Dolly, who had her hands full with the care of the house and
+the day duty and the sick cookery. And as day after day went by, and
+night after night was watched through, and days and nights began to run
+into weeks, the strength and nervous energy of them both began at times
+to fail. Neither showed it to the other, except as pale faces and weary
+eyes told their story. Mrs. Copley cried in secret, at night, with her
+head on the window-sill; and Dolly went with slow foot to gather her
+herbs and vegetables, and sat down sometimes in the porch, in the early
+dawn or the evening gloom, and allowed herself to own that things were
+looking very dark indeed. The question was, how long would it be
+possible to go on as they were doing? how long would strength hold
+out?--and money? The doctor's fees took great pinches out of Dolly's
+fund; and for the present there was no adding to it. Lady Brierley was
+away; she had gone to the seaside. Mrs. Jersey was very kind; fruit and
+eggs and vegetables came almost daily from the House to Dolly's help,
+and the kind housekeeper herself had offered to sit up with the sick
+man; but this offer was refused. Mr. Copley did not like to see any
+stranger about him. And Dolly and her mother were becoming now very
+tired. As the weeks went on, they ceased to look in each other's faces
+any more with questioning eyes; they knew too well how anxiety and
+effort had told upon both of them, and each was too conscious of what
+the other was thinking and fearing. They did not meet each other's eyes
+with those mute demands in them any more; but they stole stealthy
+glances sometimes each to see how the other face looked; what tokens of
+wear and tear it was showing; taking in at a rapid view the lines of
+weariness, the marks of anxiety, the faded colour, the languor of
+spirit which had gradually taken the place of the earlier energy. In
+word and action they showed none of all this. All the more, no doubt,
+when each was alone and the guard might be relaxed, a very grave and
+sorrowful expression took possession of their faces. Nothing else might
+be relaxed. Day and night the labour and the watch were unintermitting.
+
+And so the summer wore on to an end. Dolly was patient, but growing
+very sad; perhaps taking a wider view of things than her mother, who
+for the present was swallowed up in the one care about her husband's
+condition. Dolly, managing the finances and managing the household, had
+both parents to think of; and was sometimes almost in despair.
+
+She was sitting so one afternoon in the kitchen, in a little lull of
+work before it was time to get supper, looking out into the summer
+glow. It was warm in the small kitchen, but Dolly had not energy to go
+somewhere else for coolness. She sat gazing out, and almost querying
+whether all things were coming to an end at once; life and the means to
+live together, and the strength to get means. And yet she remembered
+that it is written--"Trust in the Lord, and do good; so shalt thou
+dwell in the land, and _verily thou shalt be fed_." But then,--it came
+cold into her heart,--it could not be said that her father and mother
+had ever fulfilled those conditions; could the promise be good for
+_her_ faith alone? And truly, where was Dolly's faith just now? Withal,
+as she sat gazing out of the window, she saw that full wealth of
+summer, which was a pledge and proof of the riches of the hand from
+which it came.
+
+"There's a gentleman, mum," Dolly's little helpmate announced in her
+ear. Dolly started.
+
+"A gentleman? what gentleman? It isn't the doctor? He has been here."
+
+"It's no him. I knows Dr. Hopley. It's no him."
+
+"I cannot see company. Is it company, Nelly?"
+
+"The gentleman didn't say, mum."
+
+"Where is he?"
+
+"He's a standin' there at the door."
+
+Dolly slowly rose up and doubtfully took off her great kitchen apron;
+doubtfully went upstairs. Perhaps she had better see who it was. Mrs.
+Jersey might have sent a messenger,--or Lady Brierley! She went on to
+the hall door, which was open, and where indeed she saw a tall figure
+against the summer glow which filled all out of doors. A tall figure, a
+tall, upright figure; at first Dolly could see only the silhouette of
+him against the warm outer light. She came doubtfully close up to the
+open door. Then she could see a little more besides the tallness; a
+peculiar uprightness of bearing, a manly, frank face, a head of close
+curling dark hair, and an expression of pleasant expectation; there was
+a half smile on the face, and a deferential look of waiting. He stood
+bareheaded before her, and had not the air of a stranger; but Dolly was
+quite bewildered. Somebody altogether strange, and yet somehow
+familiar. She said nothing; her eyes questioned why, being a stranger,
+he should stand there with such a look upon his face.
+
+"I am afraid I am not remembered," said the gentleman, with the smile
+coming out a little more. His look, too, was steady and straightforward
+and observant,--where had Dolly seen that mixture of quietness and
+resoluteness? Her eyes fell to the little cap in his hand, an officer's
+cap, and then light came into them.
+
+"Oh!" she cried,--"Mr. Shubrick!"
+
+"It is a long time since that Christmas Day at Rome," he said; a more
+wistful gravity coming into his face as he better scanned the face
+opposite to him, which the evening light revealed very fully.
+
+"Oh, I know now," said Dolly. "I do not need to be reminded; but I
+could not expect to see you here. I thought you were in the
+Mediterranean. Will you come in, Mr. Shubrick? I am very glad to see
+you; but my thoughts were so far away"----
+
+"You thought I was in the Mediterranean?" he said as he followed Dolly
+in. "May I ask, why?"
+
+"Your ship was there."
+
+"_Was_ there; but ships are not stationary things."
+
+"No, of course not," said Dolly, throwing open the blinds and letting
+the summer light and fragrance stream in. "Then, when did you see
+Christina?"
+
+"Not for months. The Red Chief has been ordered to the Baltic and is
+there now; and I got a furlough to come to England. But--how do you do,
+Miss Copley?"
+
+"I am well, thank you."
+
+"Forgive me for asking, if that information can be depended on?"
+
+"Yes, indeed I am well. I suppose I look tired. We have had sickness
+here for a good while--my father. Mother and I are tired, no doubt."
+
+"You look very tired. I am afraid I ought not to be here. Can you make
+me of use? What is the matter? Please remember that I am not a
+stranger."
+
+"I am very glad to remember it," said Dolly. "No, I do not feel as if
+you were a stranger, Mr. Shubrick, after that day we spent together.
+You asked what was the matter--oh, I don't know! a sort of slow,
+nervous fever, not infectious at all, nor very alarming; only it must
+be watched, and he always wants some one with him, and of course after
+a while one gets tired. That cannot be helped. We have managed very
+well."
+
+"Not Mrs. Copley and you alone?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"How long?"
+
+"It is five weeks now."
+
+"And no improvement yet?"
+
+"I do not know. Mother thinks a little," said Dolly, faltering. This
+speaking to eyes and ears of sympathy, after so long an interval,
+rather upset her; her lips trembled, tears came, she was upon the point
+of breaking down; she struggled for self-command, but her lips trembled
+more and more.
+
+"I have come in good time," said her visitor.
+
+"It is pleasant to see somebody, to be able to speak to somebody, that
+is so good as to care," said Dolly, brushing her hand over her eyes
+swiftly.
+
+"You are worn out," said the other gently. "I am not going to be simply
+somebody to speak to. Miss Copley, I am a countryman, and a sort of a
+friend, you know. You will let me take the watch to-night."
+
+"You!" said Dolly, starting. "Oh no!"
+
+"I beg your pardon. You ought to say 'Oh yes.' I have had experience. I
+think you may trust me."
+
+"Oh, I cannot. We have no right to let you do so."
+
+"You have a right to make any use of me you can; for I place myself at
+your disposal."
+
+"You are _very_ kind, Mr. Shubrick!"
+
+"Don't say anything more. That is settled," said he, taking up his cap,
+as if in preparation for departure. Dolly was a little bewildered by
+the quiet, decided manner, just like what she remembered of Mr.
+Shubrick; unobtrusive and undemonstrative, but if he moved, moving
+straight to his goal. She rose as he rose.
+
+"But," she stammered, "I don't think you can. Father likes nobody but
+mother and me about him."
+
+"He will like me to-morrow," Mr. Shubrick answered with a smile. "Don't
+fear; I will manage that."
+
+"You are very kind!" said Dolly. "You are very kind!"--Already her
+heart was leaping towards this offered help, and Mr. Shubrick looked so
+resolute and strong and ready; she could hardly oppose him. "But you
+are _too_ kind!" she said suddenly.
+
+"No," said he gravely; "that is impossible. Remember, in the family we
+belong to, the rule is one which we can never reach. 'That ye love one
+another, even as I have loved you.'"
+
+What it was, I do not know, in these words which overcame Dolly. In the
+words and the manner together. She was very tired and overstrung, and
+they found some unguarded spot and reached the strained nerves. Dolly
+put both hands to her face and burst into tears, and for a moment was
+terribly afraid that she was going to be hysterical. But that was not
+Dolly's way at all, and she made resolute fight against her nerves.
+Meanwhile, she felt herself taken hold of and placed in a chair by the
+window; and the sense that somebody was watching her and waiting,
+helped the return of self-control. With a sort of childish sob, Dolly
+presently took down her hands and looked up through the glistening
+tears at the young man standing over her.
+
+"There!" she said, forcing a smile on the lips that quivered,--"I am
+all right now. I do not know how I could be so foolish."
+
+"_I_ know," said Mr. Shubrick. "Then I will just return to the village
+for half and hour, and be back here as soon as possible."
+
+"But"--said Dolly doubtfully. "Why don't you send for what you want?"
+
+"Difficult," said the other. "I am going to get some supper."
+
+"Oh!" said Dolly. "If _that_ is what you want--sit down, Mr. Shubrick.
+Or send off your fly first, and then sit down. If you are going to stay
+here to-night, I'll give you your supper. Send away the fly, Mr.
+Shubrick, please!"
+
+"I do not think I can. And you cannot possibly do such a thing as you
+propose. I shall be back here in a very little time."
+
+Dolly put her hand upon Mr. Shubrick's cap and softly took it from him.
+
+"No," she said. "It's a bargain. If I let you do one thing, you must
+let me do the other. It would trouble me to have you go. It is too
+pleasant to see a friend here, to lose sight of him in this fashion.
+There will be supper, of some sort, and you shall have the best we can.
+Will you send away your fly, please, and sit down and wait for it?"
+
+If Dolly could not withstand him, so on this point there was no
+resisting her. Mr. Shubrick yielded to her evident urgent wish; and
+Dolly went back to her preparations. The question suddenly struck her,
+_where_ should she have supper? Down here in the kitchen? But to have
+it in order, upstairs, would involve a great deal more outlay of
+strength and trouble. The little maid could not set the table up there,
+and Dolly could not, with the stranger looking on. That would never do.
+She debated, and finally decided to put her pride in her pocket and
+bring her visitor down to the kitchen. It was not a bad place, and if
+he was going to be a third nurse in the house, it would be out of
+keeping to make any ceremony with him. Dolly's supper itself was
+faultless. She had some cold game, sent by Lady Brierley or by her
+order; she had fresh raspberries sent by Mrs. Jersey, and a salad of
+cresses. But Mrs. Copley would not be persuaded to make her appearance.
+She did not want to see strangers; she did not like to leave Mr.
+Copley; in short, she excused herself obstinately, to Dolly's distress.
+However, she made no objection to having Mr. Shubrick take her place
+for the night; and she promised Dolly that if she got a good night's
+sleep and was rested, she would appear at breakfast.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+THE NURSE.
+
+Dolly made her mother's excuses, which seemed to her visitor perfectly
+natural, and ushered him down to the supper laid in the little kitchen;
+Dolly explaining very simply that her mother and she had lived there
+since there had been sickness in the house, and had done so for want of
+hands to make other arrangements possible. And Mr. Shubrick seemed also
+to find it the most natural thing in the world to live in the kitchen,
+and for all that appeared, had never taken his meals anywhere else in
+his life. He did justice to the supper too, which was a great
+gratification to Dolly; and lifted the kettle for her from the hob when
+she wanted it, and took his place generally as if he were one of the
+family. As for Dolly, there came over her a most exquisite sense of
+relief; a glimpse of shelter and protection, the like of which she had
+not known since she could hardly remember when. True, it was transient;
+it could not abide; Mr. Shubrick was sitting there opposite her like
+some one that had fallen from the clouds, and whom mist and shadow
+would presently swallow up again; but in the meanwhile, what a gleam of
+light his presence brought! He would go soon again, of course; he must;
+but to have him there in the meantime was a momentary comfort
+unspeakable. More than momentary; he would stay all night. And her
+mother would get a night's sleep. For her own part, this feeling of
+rest was already as good as sleep. Yes, for once, for a little, a
+strong hand had come between her and her burdens. Dolly let herself
+rest upon it, with an intense appreciation of its strength and
+sufficiency.
+
+And so resting, she observed her new helper curiously. She noticed how
+entirely he was the same man she had seen that Christmas Day in Rome;
+the same here as there, with no difference at all. There was the calm
+of manner that had struck her then, along with the readiness for
+action; the combination was peculiar, and expressed in every turn of
+head and hand. Here, in a strange house, he was as absolutely at ease
+and unconstrained as if he had been on the quarterdeck of his own ship.
+Is it the habit of command? thought Dolly. But that does not
+necessarily give a man ease of manner in his intercourse with others
+who are not under his command. Meanwhile, Mr. Shubrick sat and talked,
+keeping up a gentle run of unexciting thoughts, and apparently as much
+at home in the kitchen of Brierley Cottage as if he had lived there
+always.
+
+"When have you seen Christina?" Dolly asked.
+
+"Not in some months."
+
+"Are they at Sorrento yet?"
+
+"No; they spent the winter in Rome, and this summer they are in
+Switzerland. I had a letter from Miss Thayer the other day. I mean, a
+few weeks ago."
+
+It occurred to Dolly that one or the other of them must be a slack
+correspondent.
+
+"I almost wonder they could leave Sorrento," she remarked.
+
+"They got tired of it."
+
+"I never get tired of lovely things," said Dolly. "The longer I know
+them the better pleasure I take in them. I could have stayed in Venice,
+it seemed to me, for years; and Rome--I should never have got away from
+Rome of my own accord, if duty had not made me; and then at Naples, I
+enjoyed it better the last day than the first. And Sorrento"----
+
+"What about Sorrento?"
+
+"Oh, it was--you know what Sorrento is. It was roses and myrtles and
+orange blossoms, and the fire of the pomegranate flowers and the grey
+of the olives; and the Italian sun, and the Italian air; and, Mr.
+Shubrick, you know what the Mediterranean is, with all its colours
+under the shadow of the cliffs and the sunlight on the open sea. And
+Vesuvius was always a delightful wonder to me. And the people were so
+nice. Sorrento is perfect." A soft breath of a sigh came from Dolly's
+heart.
+
+"You do not like England so well?"
+
+"No. Oh no! But I could like England. Mr. Shubrick, my time at Sorrento
+was almost without care; and you know that makes a difference."
+
+"Would you like to live without care?" said he.
+
+Dolly looked at him, the question seemed so strange. "Without anxious
+care--I should," she answered.
+
+"That you may, anywhere."
+
+"How is it possible, sometimes?" Dolly asked wistfully.
+
+"May I be Yankee enough to answer your question by another? Is it any
+relief to you to have me come in and take the watch for to-night?"
+
+"The greatest," said Dolly. "I cannot express to you how great it is;
+for mother and I have had it all to do for so long. I cannot tell you,
+Mr. Shubrick, in what a strange lull of rest I have been sitting here
+since we came downstairs. I have just let my hands fall."
+
+"How can you be sure it is safe to do that?" he said, smiling.
+
+"Oh," said Dolly, "I know you will take care; and while you do, I need
+not."
+
+Mr. Shubrick was silent. Dolly pondered.
+
+"Do I know what you mean?" she said.
+
+"I think you do," he replied. "Do you remember it is written,
+--'Casting your care upon Him, _for He careth for you_'?"
+
+"And that means, not to care myself?"
+
+"Not anxiously, or doubtfully. You cannot trust your care to another,
+and at the same time keep it yourself."
+
+"I know all that," said Dolly slowly; "or I thought I knew it. How is
+it, then, that it is so difficult to get the good of it?"
+
+"Was it very difficult to trust me?" Mr. Shubrick asked.
+
+"No," said Dolly, "because--you know you are not a stranger, Mr.
+Shubrick. I feel as if I knew you."
+
+He lifted his eyes and looked at her; not regarding the compliment to
+himself, but with a steady, keen eye carrying Dolly's own words home to
+her. He did not say a word; but Dolly changed colour.
+
+"Oh, do you mean _that?_" she cried, almost with tears. "Is it because
+I know Christ so poorly that I trust Him so slowly?"
+
+"What else can it be? And you know, Miss Dolly, just that absolute
+trust is the thing the Lord wants of us. And you know it is the thing
+of all others that we like from one another. We need not be surprised
+that He likes it; for we were made in His image."
+
+Dolly sat silent, struck and moved both with sorrow and gladness; for
+if it were possible so to lay down care, what more could burden her?
+and that she had not done it, testified to more strangeness and
+distance on her part towards her best Friend than she liked to think
+of. Her musings were interrupted by Mr. Shubrick.
+
+"Now may I be introduced to Mr. Copley?" he said.
+
+Dolly was rather doubtful about the success of this introduction.
+However, she brought her mother out of the sick-room, and took Mr.
+Shubrick in; and there, in obedience to his desire, left him, without
+an introduction; for her father was asleep.
+
+"He will never let him stay there, Dolly," said Mrs. Copley. "He will
+not bear it at all." And Dolly waited and feared and hoped. But the
+night drew on, and came down upon the world; Mrs. Copley went to bed,
+at Dolly's earnest suggestion, and was soon fast asleep, fatigue
+carrying it over anxiety; and Dolly watched and listened in vain for
+sounds of unrest from her father's room. None came; the house was
+still; the summer night was deliciously mild; Dolly's eyelids trembled
+and closed, and opened, and finally closed again, not to open till the
+summer morning was bright and the birds making a loud concert of their
+morning song.
+
+Mr. Shubrick, left alone with his patient, sat down and waited;
+reviewing meanwhile the room and his surroundings. It was a
+moderate-sized, neat, pretty room, with one window looking out upon the
+garden. The casement was two-leaved, and one leaf only was part open.
+The air consequently was close and hot. And if the room was neat, that
+applies only to its natural and normal condition; for if neatness
+includes tidiness, it could not be said at present to deserve that
+praise. There was an indescribable litter everywhere, such as is
+certain to accumulate in a sick-room if the watchers are not imbued
+with the spirit of order. Here were one or two spare pillows, on so
+many chairs; over the back of another chair hung Mr. Copley's
+dressing-gown; at a very unconnected distance from his slippers under a
+fourth chair. On still another chair lay a plate and knife with the
+remains of an orange; on the mantelpiece, the rest of the chairs, the
+tables, and even the floor, stood a miscellaneous assortment of cups,
+glasses, saucers, bottles, spoons, and pitchers, large and small,
+attached to as varied an assemblage of drinks and medicines. Only one
+medicine was to be given from time to time, Mr. Shubrick had been
+instructed; and that was marked, and he recognised it; what were all
+the rest of this assemblage doing here? Some books lay about also, and
+papers, and magazines; here a shawl, there some articles of female
+apparel; and a basket of feminine work. The litter was general, and
+somewhat disheartening to a lover of order; Mrs. Copley being one of
+those people who have nothing of the sort belonging to them, and indeed
+during the most of her life accustomed to have somebody else keep order
+for her; servants formerly, Dolly of late. Mr. Shubrick sat and looked
+at all these things, but made no movement, until by and by his patient
+awoke. It was long past sunset now, the room in partial twilight, yet
+illumination enough still reflected from a very bright sky for the two
+people there to see each what the other looked like. Mr. Copley used
+his eyes in this investigation for a few minutes in silence.
+
+"Who are you?" he inquired abruptly.
+
+"A friend."
+
+"What friend? You are a friend I don't know."
+
+"That is true; but it will not be true to-morrow," Mr. Shubrick said
+quietly.
+
+"What are you here for?"
+
+"To act the part of a friend, if you will allow me. I am here to wait
+upon you, Mr. Copley."
+
+"Thank you, I prefer my own people about me," said the sick man curtly.
+"You may go, and send them, or some of them, to me."
+
+"I cannot do that," said the stranger, "and you must put up with me for
+to-night. Mrs. Copley and your daughter are both very tired, and need
+rest."
+
+"Humph!" said the invalid with a surprised grunt. "Did _they_ send you
+here?"
+
+"No. They permitted me to come. I take it as a great privilege."
+
+"You take it before you have got it. I have not given my leave yet.
+What are you doing there?"
+
+"Letting some fresh air in for you." Mr. Shubrick was setting wide open
+both leaves of the casement.
+
+"You mustn't do that. The night air is not good for me. Shut the
+window."
+
+"You cannot have any air at night _but_ night air," replied Mr.
+Shubrick, uttering what a great authority has since spoken, and leaving
+the window wide open.
+
+"But night air is very bad. I don't want it; do you hear?"
+
+"If you will lie still a minute or two, you will begin to feel that it
+is very good. It is full of the breath of roses and mignonette, and a
+hundred other pleasant things."
+
+"But I tell you that's poison!" cried Mr. Copley, beginning to excite
+himself. "I choose to have the window shut; do you hear me, sir?
+Confound you, I want it shut!"
+
+The young man, without regarding this order, came to the bedside,
+lifted Mr. Copley's head and shook up his pillows and laid him
+comfortably down again.
+
+"Lie still," he said, "and be quiet. You are under orders, and I am in
+command here to-night. I am going to take care of you, and you have no
+need to think about it. Is that right?"
+
+"Yes," said the other, with another grunt half of astonishment and half
+of relief,--"that's right. But I want the window shut, I tell you."
+
+"Now you shall have your broth. It will be ready presently."
+
+"I don't want any broth!" said the sick man. "If you could get me a
+glass of wine;--_that_ would set me up. I'm tired to death of these
+confounded slops. They are nothing for a man to grow strong upon. Never
+would make a man strong--never!"
+
+Mr. Shubrick made no answer. He was going quietly about the room.
+
+"What are you doing?" said the other presently, watching him.
+
+"Making things ship-shape--clearing decks."
+
+"What do you know about clearing decks?" said Mr. Copley.
+
+"I will show you."
+
+And the sick man watched with languid amusement to see how, as his new
+nurse went from place to place, the look of the room changed. Shawls
+and clothing were folded up and bestowed on a chest of drawers;
+slippers were put ready for use at the bedside; books were laid
+together neatly on the table; and a small army of cups and glasses and
+empty vials were fairly marched out of the room. In a little while the
+apartment was in perfect order, and seemed half as large again. The
+invalid drew a long breath.
+
+"You're an odd one!" said he, when he caught Mr. Shubrick's eye again.
+"Where did you learn all that? and who are you? and how did you come
+here? I have a right to know."
+
+"You have a perfect right, and shall know all about me," was the
+answer; "but first, here is your broth, hot and good." (Mr. Shubrick
+had just received it from the little maid at the door). "Take this now,
+and to-morrow, if you behave well, you shall have something better."
+
+Mr. Copley suffered himself to be persuaded, took the broth, and then
+repeated his question.
+
+"I am Sandie Shubrick, lieutenant in the United States navy, on board
+ship 'The Red Chief;' just now on furlough, and in England."
+
+"What did you come to England for?"
+
+"Business and pleasure."
+
+"Which do you call this you are about now?"
+
+"Both," said Mr. Shubrick, smiling. "Now you may lie still, and keep
+the rest of your questions for another time."
+
+Mr. Copley yielded, and lay looking at his new attendant, till he dozed
+off into unconsciousness. Waking then after a while, hot and restless,
+his nurse brought water and a sponge and began sponging his face and
+neck and hands; gently and soothingly; and kept up the exercise until
+restlessness abated, breaths of satisfied content came at easy
+intervals; and finally Mr. Copley slumbered off peacefully, and knew no
+more. When he awoke the sun was shining on the oaks of Brierley Park.
+The window was open, as it had been all night, and by the window sat
+Mr. Shubrick, looking out. The sick man eyed him for a while.
+
+"Are you asleep there?" he said at last, growing impatient of the
+silence. Mr. Shubrick got up and came to him.
+
+"Good morning!" said he. "How have you rested?"
+
+"I believe it's the best night I've had yet. What were you doing to me
+in the night? using a sponge to me, weren't you? It put me to sleep. I
+believe it would cure a man of a fever, by Jupiter."
+
+"Not by Jupiter," said Mr. Shubrick. "And you must not say such things
+while I am here."
+
+"Why not?" Mr. Copley opened his eyes somewhat.
+
+"It is no better than counterfeit swearing."
+
+"Would you rather have the true thing?"
+
+"I never permit either, where I am in authority?"
+
+"Your authority can't reach far. You've got to take the world as you
+find it."
+
+"I dispute that. You've got to take the world and make it better."
+
+"What do you do where your authority is not sufficient?"
+
+"I go away."
+
+"Look here," said Mr. Copley. "Do you call yourself in authority
+_here?_"
+
+"Those are the only terms on which I could stay," said Mr. Shubrick,
+smiling.
+
+"Well, see," said the other,--"I wish you would stay. You've done me
+more good than all the doctor and everybody else before you."
+
+"I come after them all, remember."
+
+"I wish you had come before them. Women don't know anything. There's my
+wife,--she would have let the room get to be like a Jew's old clothes
+shop, and never be aware of it. I didn't know what was choking me so,
+and now I know it was the confusion. You belong to the navy?"
+
+"I told you so last evening," said Mr. Shubrick, who meanwhile was
+sponging Mr. Copley's face and hands again and putting him in order
+generally, so as a sick man's toilet might be made.
+
+"By Jupiter!--I beg your pardon--I believe I am going to get over this,
+after all," said Mr. Copley "I am sure I shall, if you'll stay and help
+me."
+
+"I will do it with pleasure. Now, what are you going to have for your
+breakfast?"
+
+"But, look here. Why should you stay with me? I am nothing to you.
+Who's to pay you for it?"
+
+"I do not come for pay; or rather, I get it as I go along. Make
+yourself easy, and tell me about your breakfast."
+
+"How do you come here? I don't know you. Who does know you?"
+
+"I have been a friend of your friends, Mr. and Mrs. Thayer, for many
+years."
+
+"Humph. Ah! Well. About breakfast, I don't know what they have got for
+me downstairs; some lolypop or other."
+
+"We'll do better for you than that," said Mr. Shubrick.
+
+The morning meanwhile had come to the other inmates of the house. Dolly
+had left the sofa where she had spent the night, with a glad
+consciousness that the night was over and there had been no
+disturbance. Her mother had slept all the night through and was
+sleeping yet. What refreshment and comfort it was. What strength and
+rest, to think of that kind, calm, strong, resolute man in her father's
+room; somebody that could be depended upon. Dolly thought Christina
+ought to be a happy woman, with always such a hand to support her all
+her life long. "And he drinks no wine," thought Dolly; "that temptation
+will never overtake him; she will never have to be ashamed of him. He
+will hold her up, and not she him. She is happy."
+
+The worst thing about Mr. Shubrick's coming was, that he must go away
+again! However, not yet; he would be seen at breakfast first; and to
+prepare breakfast was now Dolly's next care. Then she got her mother up
+and persuaded her to make herself nice and appear at the meal.
+
+"You are never going to bring him down into the kitchen?" said Mrs.
+Copley, horrified, when she got there.
+
+"Certainly, mother; it is no use trying to make a fuss. I cannot give
+him breakfast anywhere else."
+
+"Then I would let him go to the village, Dolly, and get his breakfast
+there."
+
+"But that would be very inhospitable. He was here at supper, mother; I
+don't think he was frightened. He knows just how we are situated."
+
+"He doesn't know you have nobody to help you, I hope?"
+
+"How could he help knowing it? The thing is patent. Never mind, mother;
+the breakfast will be good, if the breakfast-room is only so so. If you
+do not mind, nobody else will."
+
+"That you should come to this!" said Mrs. Copley, sinking into a chair.
+"My Dolly! Doing a servant's work, and for strangers, and nobody to
+help or care! And what are we coming to? I don't see, for my part. You
+are ruined."
+
+"Not yet," said Dolly cheerfully. "If I am, I do not feel like it. Now,
+mother, see if you can get Mr. Shubrick down here before my omelette is
+ruined; for that is the greatest danger just at present."
+
+It was not quite easy to get Mr. Shubrick down there, however; he
+demurred very seriously; and I am afraid the omelette was something the
+worse before he came. But then the breakfast was rather gay. The
+watcher reported a quiet night, and as he was much inclined to think,
+an amended patient.
+
+"Quiet!" echoed Mrs. Copley. "How could you keep him quiet?"
+
+"I suppose I imagined myself on board ship," said the young man,
+smiling, "and gave orders, as I am accustomed to do there. Habit is a
+great thing."
+
+"And Mr. Copley minded your orders?"
+
+"That is understood."
+
+"Well!" ejaculated Mrs. Copley. "He never would do the least thing I or
+Dolly wanted him to do; not the least thing. _He_ has been giving the
+orders all along; and as fidgetty as ever he could be. Fidgetty and
+nervous. Wasn't he fidgetty?"
+
+"No; very docile and peaceable."
+
+"You must be a wonderful man," said Mrs. Copley.
+
+"Habit," said Mr. Shubrick. "As I said, it is a great thing."
+
+"He has been having his own way all along," said Mrs. Copley; "and
+ordering us about, and doing just the things he ought not to do. He was
+always that way."
+
+"Not the proper way for a sick room," said Mr. Shubrick. "You had
+better install me as head nurse."
+
+How Dolly wished they could do that! As she saw him there at the table,
+with his quiet air of efficiency and strength, Dolly thought what a
+treasure he was in a sick house; how strong she felt while she knew he
+was near. Perhaps Mrs. Copley's thoughts took the same turn; she sighed
+a little as she spoke.
+
+"You have been very kind, Mr. Shubrick. We shall never forget it. You
+have been a great help. If Mr. Copley would only get better now"----
+
+"I am going to see him better before I go."
+
+"We could not ask any _more_ help of you."
+
+"You need not," and Mr. Shubrick smiled. "Mr. Copley has done me the
+honour to ask me."
+
+"Mr. Copley has asked you!" repeated Mrs. Copley in bewilderment.
+"What?"
+
+"Asked me to stay."
+
+"To stay and nurse him?"
+
+"Yes. And I said I would. You cannot turn me away after that."
+
+"But you have your own business in England," Dolly here put in.
+
+"This is it, I think."
+
+"Your own pleasure, then. You did not come to England for this."
+
+"It seems I did," he said. "I am off duty, Miss Dolly, I told you; here
+on furlough, to do what I like; and there is nothing else at present
+that I should like half so well."
+
+Dolly scored another private mark here to the account of Mr. Shubrick's
+goodness; and in the ease which suddenly came to her own mind, felt as
+if her head were growing light and giddy. But it was no illusion or
+dream. Mr. Shubrick was really there, finishing his breakfast, and
+really going to stay and take care of her father; and Dolly felt as if
+the tide of their affairs had turned.
+
+So indeed it proved. From that time Mr. Shubrick assumed the charge of
+the sick-room, by night and also by day. He went for a walk to the
+village sometimes, and always got his dinner there; the rest of the
+time he was at the cottage, attending to everything that concerned Mr.
+Copley. Dolly and her mother were quite put away from that care. And
+whether it were the moral force of character, which acted upon Mr.
+Copley, or whether it were that his disorder had really run its length
+and that a returning tide of health was coming back to its channels,
+the sick man certainly was better. He grew better from day to day. He
+had been quiet and manageable from the first in his new nurse's hands;
+now he began to take pleasure in his society, holding long talks with
+him on all possible subjects. Appetite mended also, and strength was
+gradually replacing weakness, which had been very great. Anxiety on the
+one score of her father's recovery was taken away from Dolly.
+
+Other anxieties remained, and even pressed harder, when the more
+immediately engrossing care was removed. In spite of Mr. Shubrick's
+lecture about casting off care, Dolly found it difficult to act upon
+the truth she knew. Her little fund of money was much reduced; she
+could not help asking herself how they were going to live? Would her
+father, as soon as he was strong enough, go back to his former ways and
+be taken up with his old companions? and if he did, how much longer
+could the little household at Brierley struggle on alone? What had
+become of all her father's property in America, from which in old time
+the income had always been more than sufficient for all their wants and
+desires? Was it gone irrevocably? or had only the ready money accruing
+from it been swallowed up in speculation or pleasure? And whence could
+Dolly get light on these points, or how know what steps she ought to
+take? Could her weakness do anything, in view of that fact to which her
+mother had alluded, that Mr. Copley always took his own way? It was all
+utter and dark confusion as she looked forward. Could Dolly trust and
+be quiet?
+
+In her meditations another subject occupied her a good deal. The
+presence of Sandie Shubrick was such a comfort that it was impossible
+not to think what she would do without him when he was gone. He was a
+universal comfort. Since he had taken charge of the sick-room, the
+sickness was disappearing; while he was in command, there was no
+rebellion; the affairs of the household worked smoothly, and Dolly had
+no need to draw a single long breath of perplexity or anxiety. The
+sound of that even, firm step on the gravel walk or in the hall, was a
+token of security; the sight of Mr. Shubrick's upright, alert figure
+anywhere was good for courage and hope. His resolute, calm face was a
+light in the house. Dolly's thoughts were much busied with him and with
+involuntary speculations about him and Christina. It was almost
+unavoidable. She thought, as indeed she had thought before, that Miss
+Thayer was a happy woman, to have so much strength and goodness
+belonging to her. What a shielded life hers would be, by this man's
+side. He would never neglect her or prefer his interests to hers; he
+would never give her cause to be ashamed of him; and here Dolly's lips
+sometimes quivered and a hot tear or two forced their way out from
+under her eyelids. And how could possibly Christina so play fast and
+loose with him, do dishonour to so much goodness, and put off her
+consent to his wishes until all grace was gone out of it? Mr. Shubrick
+apparently had made up his mind to this treatment and was not cast down
+by it; or perhaps would he, so self-reliant as he was, be cast down
+utterly by anything?
+
+I think perhaps Dolly thought too much about Mr. Shubrick. It was
+difficult to help it. He had brought such a change into her life; he
+was doing such a work in the house; he was so very pleasant a companion
+at those breakfasts and suppers in the kitchen. For his dinner Mr.
+Shubrick persisted in going to the village inn. He said the walk did
+him good. He had become in these few days quite as one of themselves.
+And now he would go. Mr. Copley was fast getting well, and his nurse
+would go. Dolly could not bear to think of it.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+UNDER AN OAK TREE.
+
+More than a week passed, and Mr. Copley was steadily convalescent. He
+had not left his room yet, but he needed no longer the steady
+attendance of some one bound to minister to his wants. Dolly was
+expecting now every day to hear Mr. Shubrick say he must bid them
+good-bye; and she took herself a little to task for caring so much
+about it. What was Sandie Shubrick to her, that she should feel such a
+heart-sinking at the prospect of his departure? It was a very wonderful
+thing that he, Christina Thayer's Mr. Shubrick, should have come to
+help this little family in its need; it was very astonishing that he
+should be there even then, waiting on Dolly Copley's sick father; let
+her be satisfied with this so unexpected good, and bid him farewell as
+easily as she had bid him welcome. But Dolly could not. How could she?
+she said to herself. And every time she saw Mr. Shubrick she feared
+lest the dreaded words would fall from his lips. So when he came to her
+one afternoon when she was sitting in the porch, her heart gave a throb
+of anticipation. However, he said nothing of going, but remarked how
+pretty the sloping ground looked, on the other side of the little
+river, with its giant trees and the sunlight streaming through the
+branches upon the greensward.
+
+"It is very pretty," said Dolly. "The park is beautiful. You ought to
+see it"--_before you go_, she was on the point of saying, but did not
+say.
+
+"Will you come with me, and show me what I ought to look at?"
+
+"Now?" said Dolly.
+
+"If it is not too warm for you. We might take it easily and keep in the
+shadow of the trees."
+
+"Oh, it is not too warm," said Dolly; and she ran to fetch her garden
+hat.
+
+It was not August now; the summer was past, yet the weather was fit for
+the height of summer. Warm, spicy, dry air, showing misty in the
+distance like a gossamer veil, and near by a still glow over
+everything. The two young people wandered over the bridge and slowly
+mounted the bank among the oaks and beeches, keeping in the shade as
+much as might be. There was a glorious play of shadow and sunlight all
+over the woodland; and the two went softly along, hardly disturbing the
+wild creatures that looked at them now and then. For the woods were
+full of life. They saw a hare cross an opening, and grey squirrels eyed
+them from the great oak branches overhead; and there was a soft hum of
+insects filling all the silence. It was not the time of day for the
+birds to be merry. Nor perhaps for the human creatures who slowly
+passed from tree to tree, avoiding the spaces of sunlight and summer
+glow. They were neither merry nor talked much.
+
+"This is very noble," said Sandie at last.
+
+"Were you ever in England before, Mr. Shubrick?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then you have seen many of these fine places already, perhaps?"
+
+"No, not many. My stay has been mostly in London; though I did run down
+a little into the country."
+
+"People say we have nothing like this in America."
+
+"True, I suppose," said Sandie. "We are too young a people, and we have
+had something else to do."
+
+"It is like a dream, that anybody should have such a house and such a
+place as Brierley," Dolly went on. "There is nothing wanting that one
+can imagine, for beauty and dignity and delight of living and luxury of
+ease. It might be the Arabian Nights, or fairyland. You must see the
+house, with its lovely old carvings, and pictures, and old, old
+furniture; and the arms of the family that built it carved and painted
+everywhere, on doors and chairs and mantelpieces."
+
+"Of the family that built it?" repeated Mr. Shubrick. "Not the family
+that owns it now?"
+
+"No. You see their arms too, but the others are the oldest. And then it
+would take you hours to go through the gardens. There are different
+gardens; one, most exquisite, framed in with trees, and a fountain in
+the middle, and all the beds filled with rare plants. But I do not like
+anything about the place better than these trees and greensward."
+
+"It must be a difficult thing," said Sandie meditatively, "to use it
+all for Christ."
+
+Dolly was silent a while. "I don't see how it _could_ be used so," she
+said.
+
+The other made no answer. They went slowly on and on, getting up to the
+higher ground and more level going, while the sun's rays coming a
+little more slant as the afternoon declined, gave an increasing
+picturesqueness to the scene. Mr. Shubrick had been for some time
+almost entirely silent, when Dolly proposed to stop and rest.
+
+"One enjoys it better so," she said. "One has better leisure to look.
+And I wanted to talk to you, besides."
+
+Her companion was very willing, and they took their places under a
+great oak, on the swell of greensward at the foot of it. Ground and
+grass and moss were all dry. Dolly sat down and laid off her hat;
+however, the proposed "talk" did not seem to be ready, and she let Mr.
+Shubrick wait.
+
+"I wanted to ask you something," said she at last. "I have been wanting
+to ask you something for a good while."
+
+There she stopped. She was not looking at him; she was taking care not
+to look at him; she was trying to regard Mr. Shubrick as a foreign
+abstraction. Seeing which, he began to look at her more persistently
+than hitherto.
+
+"What is it?" he asked, with not a little curiosity.
+
+"There is nobody else I can ask," Dolly went on; "and if you could give
+me the help I want, it would be a great thing for me."
+
+"I will if I can."
+
+The young man's eyes did not turn away now. And Dolly was an
+excessively pretty thing to look at; so taken up with her own thoughts
+that she was in no danger of finding out that she was an object of
+attention or perhaps admiration. Her companion perceived this, and
+indulged his eyes fearlessly. Dolly's fair, flushed face was thin with
+the work and the care of many weeks past; the traces of that were plain
+enough; yet it was delicately fair all the same, and perhaps more than
+ever, with the heightened spirituality of the expression. The writing
+on her features, of love and purity, habitual self-devotion and
+self-forgetfulness, patience and sweetness, was so plain and so
+unconscious, that it made her a very rare subject of contemplation,
+and, as her companion thought, extremely lovely. Her attitude spoke the
+same unconsciousness; her dress was of the simplest description; her
+brown hair was tossed into disorder; but dress and hair and attitude
+alike were deliciously graceful, with that mingling of characteristics
+of child and woman which was peculiar to Dolly. Lieutenant Shubrick was
+familiar with a very diverse type of womanly charms in the shape of his
+long-betrothed Miss Thayer. The comparison, or contrast, might be
+interesting; at any rate, any one who had eyes to read this type before
+him needed no contrast to make it delightful; and probably Mr. Shubrick
+had such eyes. He was quite silent, leaving Dolly to choose her time
+and her words at her own pleasure.
+
+"I know you will," she said slowly, taking up his last words;--"you
+have already; but I am a bad learner. You know what you said, Mr.
+Shubrick, the day you came, that evening when we were at supper,--about
+trusting, and not taking care?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Dolly did not look at him, and went on. "I do not find that I can do
+it."
+
+"Do what?"
+
+"Lay down care. Quite lay it down."
+
+"It is not easy," Mr. Shubrick admitted.
+
+"Is it possible, always? I find I can trust pretty well when I can see
+at least a possible way out of difficulties; but when the way seems all
+shut up, and no opening anywhere,--then--I do not quite lay down care.
+How can I?"
+
+"There is only one thing that can make it possible."
+
+"I know--you told me; but how then can I get that? I must be very far
+from the knowledge of Christ--if _that_ is what is wanting."
+
+Dolly's eyes filled with tears.
+
+"No," said Mr. Shubrick gently, "but perhaps it does follow, that you
+have not enough of that knowledge."
+
+"Of course. And how shall I get it? I can trust when I see some light,
+but when I can see none, I am afraid."
+
+"If I promised to take you home, I mean, to America, by ways known to
+me but unknown to you, could you trust me and take the steps I bade
+you."
+
+I am not justifying Mr. Shubrick. This was a kind of tentative speech
+for his own satisfaction; but he made it, watching for Dolly's answer
+the while. It came without hesitation.
+
+"Yes," she said. "I should believe you, if you told me so."
+
+"Yet in that case you would follow me blindly."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Seeing no light."
+
+"Yes. But then I know you enough to know that you would not promise
+what you would not do."
+
+"Thank you. This is by way of illustration. You would not be afraid?"
+
+"Not a bit. I see what you mean," said Dolly, colouring a little.
+
+"Do you think there is anything friends can give one another, so
+precious as such trust?"
+
+"No--I suppose not."
+
+"Is it wonderful, if the Lord wants it of His children?"
+
+"No. O Mr. Shubrick, I am ashamed of myself! What is the reason that I
+can give it to you, for instance, and not to Him? Is it just
+wickedness?"
+
+"It is rather, distance."
+
+"Distance! Then how shall I get near?"
+
+"Do you know what a question you are asking me? One of the grandest
+that a creature can ask. It is the question of questions. For, to get
+near, is to see the Lord's beauty; and to see Him is to love Him, and
+to love with that absolute confidence. 'Thou wilt keep Him in perfect
+peace whose mind is stayed on Thee.' And, 'This is life eternal, to
+know thee.'"
+
+"Then how, Mr. Shubrick?" said Dolly. "How is one to do?" She was
+almost tearful in her earnestness. But he spoke, earnestly enough, yet
+with a smile.
+
+"There are two sides to the question. On your side, you must do what
+you would do in any case where you wanted to cultivate a friendship.
+How would that be?"
+
+Dolly pondered. "I never put it so to myself," she said slowly, "and
+yet I suppose it must be so. Why, in any such case I should try to see
+a great deal of the person I wanted to make a friend of. I would be in
+the person's company, hear him talk, or hear her talk, if it was a
+woman; and talk to her. It would be the only way we could become known
+to each other."
+
+"Translate, now."
+
+"Translate?" said Dolly. "You mean,"----
+
+"Apply to the case in hand."
+
+"You mean," said Dolly, "that to study the Bible is to hear the Lord
+speak; and to pray, is to speak to Him."
+
+"To study the Bible with a heart ready to obey all it finds--_that_ is
+hearing the Lord speak; and if prayer is telling Him your thoughts and
+wishes in your own language, that is speaking to Him."
+
+"But it is speaking without an answer."
+
+"I beg your pardon. It is speaking without an audible answer; that is
+all."
+
+"Then how does the answer come?"
+
+"In receiving what you ask for; in finding what you seek."
+
+Dolly brushed away a tear again.
+
+"One needs to take a good deal of time for all that," she said
+presently.
+
+"Can you cultivate a friendship on any other terms?"
+
+"Perhaps not. This is quite a new view of the whole matter, Mr.
+Shubrick. To me."
+
+"Common sense. And Bible."
+
+"Does the Bible speak of it?"
+
+"The Bible speaks of the life of religion as contained in our knowing
+God and in His knowing us."
+
+"But He,--He knows everybody."
+
+"Not in this way. It is the sweet knowledge of intimate friendship and
+relations of affection. 'I know thee by name,' was one of the reasons
+given why the Lord would grant Moses' bold prayer. 'I have called thee
+by thy name, thou art Mine,' is the word to His people Israel. 'He
+calleth His own sheep by name,' you know it is said of the Good
+Shepherd. And 'they shall all know Me,' is the promise concerning the
+Church in Christ. While, you remember, the sentence of dismissal to the
+others will be simply, 'I know you not.' And, 'the Lord knoweth them
+that are His.'"
+
+There was silence; and then Dolly said, "You said there were two sides
+to the question."
+
+"Yes. Your part we have talked about; it is to study, and ask, and
+obey, and believe. The Lord's part is to reveal Himself to you. It is a
+matter of revelation. You cannot attain it by any efforts of your own,
+be they never so determinate. Therefore your prayer must be constantly
+like that of Moses--'I beseech thee, show me Thy glory.' And you see,
+that makes your part easy, because the other part is sure."
+
+"Mr. Shubrick, you are a very comforting talker!" said Dolly.
+
+"Nay, I am only repeating the Lord's words of comfort."
+
+"So I am to study, and yet study will not do it," said Dolly; "and I am
+to pray, and yet prayer will not give it."
+
+"Study will not do it, certainly. But when the Lord bestows His light,
+study becomes illumination. No, prayer does not give it, either; yet
+you must ask if yon would have. And Christ's promise to one who loves
+Him and keeps His commandments is,--you recollect it,--'I will love him
+_and will manifest Myself to him_.'"
+
+"That will do, Mr. Shubrick, thank you," said Dolly rising. "You need
+not say any more. I think I understand. And I am very much obliged to
+you."
+
+Mr. Shubrick made no answer. They went saunteringly along under the
+great trees, rather silent both of them after that. As the sun got
+lower the beauty of the wooded park ground grew more exceeding. All
+that a most noble growth of trees could show, scattered and grouped,
+all that a most lovely undulation of ground surface could give, in
+slope and vista and broken light and shadow, was gilded here and there
+with vivid gold, or filled elsewhere with a sunny, misty glow of
+vapourous rays, as if the air were streaming with gold dust among the
+trees. All tints and hues of greensward, moss, and fern, under all
+conditions of illumination, met their wondering eyes; and for a while
+there was little spoken but exclamations of delight and discussion of
+beautiful effects that came under review. They went on so, from point
+to point, by much the same way that Dolly had taken on her first visit
+to the park; till they came out as she had done from the thinner part
+of the woodland, and stood at the edge of the wide plain of open
+greensward which stretched on up to the House. Here they stood still.
+The low sun was shining over it all; the great groups of oaks and elms
+stood in full revealed beauty and majesty; and in the distance the
+House looked superbly down over the whole.
+
+"There is hardly anything about Brierley that I like better than this,"
+said Dolly. "Isn't it lovely? I always delight in this great slope of
+wavy green ground; and see how it is emphasised and set off by those
+magnificent trees? And the House looks better from nowhere than from
+here."
+
+"It is very noble--it is exceeding beautiful," Mr. Shubrick assented.
+
+"Now this, I suppose, one could not see in America," Dolly went on;
+"nor anything like it."
+
+"America has its own beauties; doubtless nothing like this. There is
+the dignity of many generations here. But, Miss Dolly, as I said
+before,--it would be difficult to use all this for Christ."
+
+"I do not see how it could be done," said Dolly. "Mr. Shubrick, I
+happen to know, it takes seven or eight thousand a year--or more--to
+keep the place up. Pounds sterling, I mean; not dollars. Merely to keep
+the establishment up and in order."
+
+"And yet, if I were its owner, I should find it hard to give up these
+ancestral acres and trees, or to cease to take care of them. I am glad
+I am a poor man!"
+
+"Give them up?" said Dolly. "Do you think _that_ would be duty?"
+
+"I do not know. How could I take seven or eight thousand pounds a year
+just to keep up all this magnificence, when the money is so wanted for
+the Lord's work, in so many ways? When it would do such great things,
+given to Him."
+
+"Then, Mr. Shubrick, the world must be very much mistaken in its
+calculations. People would not even understand you, if they heard you
+say that."
+
+"Do _you_ understand me?"
+
+"Oh yes. And yet I cannot tell you what delight I take in all this,
+every time I see it. The feeling of satisfaction seems to go to my very
+heart. And so when I am in the house,--and the gardens. Oh, you have
+not seen the gardens, nor the House either; and there is no time
+to-day. But I do not know that I enjoy anything much more than this
+view. Though the House is delicious, Mr. Shubrick."
+
+"I can believe it," he said, smiling. "You see what reason I have to
+rejoice that I am a poor man."
+
+Dolly thought, poor child, as they turned and went homeward, she could
+hardly go so far as to rejoice that she was a poor woman. Not that she
+wanted Brierley; but she did dread possible privation which seemed to
+be before her. She feared the uncertainty which lay over her future in
+regard to the very necessaries of life; she shrank a little from the
+difficulty and the struggle of existence, which she knew already by
+experience. And then, Mr. Shubrick, who had been such a help and had
+made such a temporary diversion of her troubled thoughts, would be soon
+far away; she had noticed that he did not speak of some other future
+opportunity of seeing the house and gardens, when she remarked that it
+was too late to-day. He would be going soon; this one walk with him was
+probably the last; and then the old times would set in again. Dolly
+went along down among the great oaks and beeches, down the bank now
+getting in shadow, and spoke hardly a word. And Mr. Shubrick was as
+silent as she, probably as busy with his own thoughts. So they went,
+until they came again in sight of the bridge and the little river down
+below them, and a few steps more would have brought the cottage into
+view.
+
+"We have come home fast," said Mr. Shubrick. "Do you think we need go
+in and show ourselves quite yet? Suppose we sit down here under this
+tree for a few minutes again, and enjoy all we can."
+
+Dolly knew it must be approaching the time for her to see about supper;
+but she could not withstand the proposal. She sat down silently and
+took off her hat to cool herself.
+
+"I come here very often," she said, "to get a little refreshment. It is
+so pleasant, and so near home."
+
+"You call Brierley 'home.' Have you accepted it as a permanent home?"
+
+"What can we do?" said Dolly. "Mother and I long to go back to
+America--we cannot persuade father."
+
+"Miss Dolly, will you excuse me for remarking that you wear a very
+peculiar watch-chain," Mr. Shubrick said next, somewhat irrelevantly.
+
+"My watch-chain! Oh, yes, I know it is peculiar," said Dolly. "For
+anything I know, there is only one in the world."
+
+"May I ask, whose manufacture it is?"
+
+"It was made by somebody--a sort of a friend, and yet not a friend
+either--somebody I shall never see again."
+
+"Ah? How is that?"
+
+"It is a great while ago," said Dolly. "I was a little girl. At that
+time I was at school in Philadelphia, and staying with my aunt there. O
+Aunt Hal! how I would like to see her!--The girls were all taken one
+day to see a man-of-war lying in the river; our schoolmistress took us;
+it was her way to take us to see things on the holidays; and this time
+it was a man-of-war; a beautiful ship; the 'Achilles.' My chain is made
+out of some threads of a cable on board the 'Achilles.'"
+
+"You did not make it?"
+
+"No, indeed. I could not, nor anybody else that I know. The manufacture
+is exquisite. Look at it," said Dolly, putting chain and watch in Mr.
+Shubrick's hand.
+
+"But somebody must have made it," said the young officer, examining the
+chain attentively.
+
+"Yes. It was odd enough. The others were having lunch; I could not get
+into the little cabin where the table was set, the place was so full;
+and so I wandered away to look at things. I had not seen them half
+enough, and then one of the young officers of the ship found me--he was
+a midshipman, I believe--and he was very good to me. He took me up and
+down and round and about; and then I was trying to get a little bit of
+a piece off a cable that lay coiled up on the deck and could not, and
+he said he would send me a piece; and he sent me that."
+
+"Seems strong," said Mr. Shubrick, still examining the chain.
+
+"Oh, it is very strong."
+
+"This is a nice little watch. Deserves a better thing to carry it."
+
+"Better!" cried Dolly, stretching out her hand for the chain. "You do
+not appreciate it. I like this better than any other. I always wear
+this. Father gave me a very handsome gold chain; he was of your
+opinion; but I have never had it on. This is my cable." She slipped the
+chain over her neck as she spoke.
+
+"What makes you think you will never see the maker of the cable again?"
+
+"Oh, that is a part of the story I did not tell you. With the chain
+came a little note, asking me to say that I had received it, and signed
+'A. Crowninshield.' I can show you the note. I have it in my work-box
+at home. Do you know anybody of that name in the navy, Mr. Shubrick?"
+
+"Midshipman?"
+
+"He might not be a midshipman now, you know. That is nine years ago."
+
+"True. I do not know of a Lieutenant Crowninshield in the navy--and I
+am sure there is no captain of that name."
+
+"That is what I thought," said Dolly. "I do not believe he is alive.
+Whenever I saw in the papers mention of a ship of the navy in port, I
+used to go carefully over the lists of her officers; but I never could
+find the name of Crowninshield."
+
+Mr. Shubrick here produced his pocket-book, and after some opening of
+inner compartments, took out a small note, which he delivered to Dolly.
+Dolly handled it at first in blank surprise, turned it over and over,
+finally opened it.
+
+"Why, this is my note!" she cried, very much confounded. "My own little
+note to that midshipman. Here is my name. And here is his name. How did
+you get it, Mr. Shubrick?" she asked, looking at him. But his face told
+her nothing.
+
+"It was given to me," he said.
+
+"By whom?"
+
+"By the messenger that brought it from you."
+
+"The messenger? But you you--you--are somebody else!"
+
+Mr. Shubrick laughed out.
+
+"Am I?" said he. "Well, perhaps,--though I think not."
+
+"But you are not that midshipman?"
+
+"No. I was he, though."
+
+"Your name,--your name is not Crowninshield?"
+
+"Yes. That is one of my names. Alexander Crowninshield Shubrick, at
+your service."
+
+Dolly looked at him, like a person awake from a dream, trying to read
+some of the remembered lineaments of that midshipman in his face. He
+bore her examination very coolly.
+
+"Why--Oh, is it possible you are he?" cried Dolly with an odd accent of
+almost disappointment, which struck Mr. Shubrick, but was inexplicable.
+"Why did you not sign your true name?"
+
+"Excuse me. I signed my true name, as far as it went."
+
+"But not the whole of it. Why didn't you?"
+
+"I had a reason. I did not wish you to trace me."
+
+"But please, why not, Mr. Shubrick?"
+
+"We might say, it was a boy's folly."
+
+"I shall not say so," said Dolly, tendering the note back. "I daresay
+you had some reason or other. But I cannot somehow get my brain out of
+a whirl. I thought you were somebody else!--Here is your note, Mr.
+Shubrick. I cannot imagine what made you keep it so long."
+
+His hand did not move to receive the note.
+
+"I have been keeping it for this time," he answered. "And now, I do not
+want to keep it any longer, Miss Dolly, unless--unless I may have you
+too."
+
+Dolly looked at him now with a face of startled inquiry and uneasiness.
+Whether she were more startled or incredulous of what she heard, it
+would be impossible to say. The expression in her eyes grew to be
+almost terror. But Mr. Shubrick smiled a little as he met them.
+
+"I kept the note, for I always knew, from that time, that I should
+marry that little girl, if ever I could find her,--and if she would let
+me."
+
+Dolly's face was fairly blanched. "But--you belong to somebody else,"
+she said.
+
+"No," said he,--"I beg your pardon. I belong to nobody in the world,
+but myself. And you."
+
+"Christina told me"----
+
+"She told you true," said Mr. Shubrick quite composedly. "There was a
+connection subsisting between us, which, while it lasted, bound us to
+each other. It happened, as such things happen; years ago we were
+thrown into each other's company, in the country, when I was home on
+leave. My home was near hers; we saw a great deal of each other; and
+fancied that we liked each other more than the fact was, or rather in a
+different way. So we were engaged; on my part it was one of those
+boyish engagements which boys frequently form before they know their
+own minds, or what they want. On the other side you can see how it was
+from the circumstances of the case. Christina did not care enough about
+me to want to be married; she always put it off; and I was not deeply
+enough concerned to find the delay very hard to bear. And then, when I
+saw you in Rome that Christmas time, I knew immediately that if ever in
+the world I married anybody, it would be the lady that wore that chain."
+
+"But Christina?" said Dolly, still with a face of terrified trouble.
+Was then Mr. Shubrick a traitor, false to his engagements, deserting a
+person to whom, whether willingly or not, he was every way bound? He
+did not look like a man conscious of dishonourable dealing, of any
+sort; and he answered in a voice that was both calm and unconcerned.
+
+"Christina and I are good friends, but not engaged friends any more.
+Will you read that?"
+
+He handed Dolly another letter as he spoke, and Dolly, bewildered,
+opened it.
+
+
+"Ischl, _May_ 6, 18--.
+
+"DEAR SANDIE,--"You are quite ridiculous to want me to write this
+letter, for anybody that knows you, knows that whatever you say is the
+truth, absolutely unmixed and unvarnished. Your word is enough for any
+statement of facts, without mine to help it. However, since you will
+have it so, here I am writing.
+
+"But really it is very awkward. What do you wish me to say, and how
+shall I say it? You want a testimony, I suppose. Well, then, this is to
+certify, that you and I are the best friends in the world, and mean to
+remain so, in spite of the fact that we once meant to be more than
+friends, and have found out that we made a mistake. Yes, it was a
+mistake. We both know it now. But anybody may be mistaken; it is no
+shame, either to you or me, especially since we have remedied the error
+after we discovered it. Really, I am in admiration of our
+clear-sightedness and bravery, in breaking loose, in despite of the
+trammels of conventionality. But you never were bound by those
+trammels, or any other, except what you call 'duty.' So I herewith
+declare you free,--that is what you want me to say, is it not?--free
+with all the honours, and with the full preservation of my regards and
+high consideration. Indeed, I do not believe I ever shall hold anybody
+else in _quite_ such high consideration; but perhaps that very fact
+made me unfit to be anything but your friend. I am afraid you are too
+good for me, in stern earnest; but I have a notion that will be no
+disadvantage to you in certain other sweet eyes that I know; the
+goodness, I mean, not anything else.
+
+"We are here, at this loveliest of lovely places; but we have got
+enough of it, and are going to spend some weeks in the Tyrol. I suppose
+I know where to imagine _you_, at least part of the summer. And you
+will know where to imagine me next winter, when I tell you that in the
+fall the probability is that I shall become Mrs. St. Leger. You may
+tell Dolly. Didn't I remark to her once that she and I had better
+effect an exchange? Funny, wasn't it? However, for the present I am, as
+I have long been, your very sincere friend, CHRISTINA THAYER."
+
+
+Dolly read the letter and stared at it, and finally returned it without
+raising her eyes. And then she sat looking straight before her, while
+her face might be likened to the evening sky when the afterglow is
+catching the clouds. From point to point the flush catches, cloud after
+cloud is lighted up, until under the whole heaven there is one crimson
+glow. Dolly was not much given to blushing, she was not at all wont to
+be a prey to shyness; what had come over her now? When Lawrence St.
+Leger had talked to her on this very same subject, she had been able to
+answer him with scarcely a rise of colour in her cheeks; with a calm
+and cool exercise of her reasoning powers, which left her fully
+mistress of the situation and of herself. She had not been disturbed
+then, she had not been excited. What was the matter now? For Dolly was
+overtaken by an invincible fit of shyness, such as never had visited
+her in all her life. I do not think now she knew that she was blushing;
+according to her custom, she was not self-conscious; what she was
+conscious of, intensely, was Mr. Shubrick's presence, and an
+overwhelming sense of his identity with the midshipman of the
+"Achilles." What _that_ had to do with Dolly's shyness, it might be
+hard to tell; but her sweet face flushed till brow and neck caught the
+tinge, and the eyelids fell over the eyes, and Dolly for the moment was
+mistress of nothing. Mr. Shubrick looking at her, and seeing those
+lovely flushes and her absolute gravity and silence, was in doubt what
+it might mean. He thought that perhaps nobody had ever spoken to her on
+such a subject before; yet Dolly was no silly girl, to be overcome by
+the mere strangeness of his words. Did her silence and gravity augur
+ill for him? or well? And then, without being in the least a coxcomb,
+it occurred to him that her excessive blushing told on the hopeful side
+of the account. He waited. He saw she was as shy as a just caught bird;
+was she caught? He would not make so much as a movement to startle her
+further. He waited, with something at his heart which made it easier
+every moment for him to wait. But in the nature of the case, waiting
+has its limits.
+
+"What are you going to do about it?" he inquired at length, in a very
+gentle manner. "Give me my note back again, with the conditions?"
+
+Dolly did nothing of the kind. She held the note, it is true, and
+looked at it, but without making any movement to restore it to its
+owner. So decided an action did not seem at the moment possible to her.
+She looked at the little note, with the prettiest sort of
+embarrassment, and presently rose to her feet. "I am sure it is time to
+have supper," she said, "and they cannot do anything at home till I
+come."
+
+Mr. Shubrick rose too and followed Dolly, who set off unceremoniously
+down the bank towards the bridge. He followed her, half smiling, and
+wholly impatient. Yet though a stride or two would have brought him
+alongside of her, he would not make them. He kept behind, and allowed
+her to trip on before him, which she did with a light, hasty foot,
+until they neared the little gate of the courtyard belonging to the
+house. Then he stepped forward and held the gate open for her to enter,
+not saying a word. Dolly passed him with the loveliest shy down-casting
+of her eyelids, and went on straight into the house. He saw the bird
+was fluttering yet, but he thought he was sure of her.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+UNDER THE SAME OAK.
+
+Dolly threw off her hat and went down to the kitchen premises. Mr.
+Shubrick repaired to the sick-room and relieved Mrs. Copley. That lady,
+descending to the lower part of the house, found Dolly very busy with
+the supper-table, and apparently much flushed with the hot weather.
+
+"Your father's getting well!" she said with a sigh.
+
+"That's good news, I am sure, mother."
+
+"Yes,--it's good news," Mrs. Copley repeated doubtfully; "but it seems
+as if everything good in this world had a bad side to it."
+
+Dolly stood still. "What's the matter?" she said.
+
+"Oh, he's so uneasy. As restless end fidgetty as a fish out of water.
+He is contented with nothing except when Mr. Shubrick is near him; he
+behaves quietly then, at least, however he feels. I believe it takes a
+man to manage a man. Though I never saw a man before that could manage
+your father. _He_ laughs at it, and says it is the habit of giving
+orders."
+
+"Who laughs at it?"
+
+"Mr. Shubrick, to be sure. You don't suppose your father owns to
+minding orders? But he does mind, for all that. What will become of us
+when that young man goes away?"
+
+"Why, mother?"
+
+"My patience, Dolly! what have you done to heat yourself so! Your face
+is all flushed. Do keep away from the fire, or you'll certainly spoil
+your complexion. You're all flushed up, child."
+
+"But father,--what about father?"
+
+"Oh, he's just getting ready to take his own head, as soon as Mr.
+Shubrick slips the bridle off. He's talking of going up to town
+already; and he will go, I know, as soon as he _can_ go; and then,
+Dolly, then--I don't know what will become of us!"
+
+Mrs. Copley put her hands over her face, and the last words were spoken
+with such an accent of forlorn despair, that Dolly saw her mother must
+have found out or divined much that she had tried to keep from her. She
+hesitated with her answer. Somehow, the despair and the forlornness had
+gone out of Dolly's heart.
+
+"I hope--I think--there will be some help, mother."
+
+"Where is it to come from?" said Mrs. Copley sharply. "We are as alone
+as we can be. We might as well be on a desert island. Now you have sent
+off Mr. St. Leger--oh, how obstinate children are! and how little they
+know what is for their good!"
+
+This subject was threadbare. Dolly let it drop. It may be said she did
+that with every subject that was started that evening. Mr. Shubrick at
+supper made brave efforts to keep the talk a going; but it would not
+go. Dolly said nothing; and Mrs. Copley in the best of times was never
+much help in a conversation. Just now she had rather a preoccupied
+manner; and I am by no means certain that, with the superhuman keenness
+of intuition possessed by mothers, she had not begun to discern a
+subtle danger in the air. The pressure of one fear being removed, there
+was leisure for any other to come up. However, Mr. Shubrick concerned
+himself only about Dolly's silence, and watched her to find out what it
+meant. She attended to all her duties, even to taking care of him,
+which to be sure was one of her duties; but she never looked at him.
+The same veil of shy grace which had fallen upon her in the wood, was
+around her still, and tantalised him.
+
+Nor did he get another chance to speak to her alone through the next
+two days that passed; carefully as he sought for it. Dolly was not to
+be found or met with, unless sitting at the table behind her tea-urn
+and with her mother opposite. Mr. Shubrick bided his time in a mixture
+of patience and impatience. The latter needs no accounting for; the
+former was half brought about and maintained by the exquisite manner of
+Dolly's presentation of herself those days. The delicate, coy grace
+which invested her, it is difficult to describe it or the effect of it.
+She was not awkward, she was not even embarrassed, the least bit in the
+world; she was grave and fair and unapproachable, with the rarest
+maidenly shyness, which took the form of the rarest womanly dignity.
+She was grave, at least when Mr. Shubrick saw her; but watching her as
+he did narrowly and constantly, he could perceive now and then a slight
+break in the gravity of her looks, which made his heart bound with a
+great thrill. It was not so much a smile as a light upon her lips; a
+play of them; which he persuaded himself was not unhappy. The
+loveliness of the whole manifestation of Dolly during those two days,
+went a good way towards keeping him quiet; but naturally it worked two
+ways. And human patience has limits.
+
+The second day, Mr. Shubrick's had given out. He came in from his walk
+to the village, bringing Mrs. Copley something she had commissioned him
+to get from thence; and found both ladies sitting at a late dinner. And
+not the young officer's eyes alone marked the sudden flush which rose
+in Dolly's cheeks when he appeared, and the lowered eyelids as he stood
+opposite her.
+
+"We began to review the park, the other day," he said, eyeing her
+steadily. "Can we have another walk in it this afternoon, Miss Dolly?
+The first was so pleasant."
+
+"I shouldn't think you'd go pleasuring just now, Dolly, when your
+father wants you," said Mrs. Copley. "You have seen hardly anything of
+him lately. I should think you would go and sit with him this
+afternoon. I know he would like it."
+
+Whether this arrangement was agreeable to the present parties
+concerned, or either of them, did not appear. Of course the most
+decorous acquiescence was all that came to light. A little later, Mr.
+Shubrick himself, being thus relieved from duty, quitted the house and
+strolled down to the bridge and over it into the park; and Dolly slowly
+went upstairs to her father's room. It was true, she had been there
+lately less than usual; but there had been a reason for that. Her
+conscience was not charged with any neglect.
+
+Mr. Copley seemed sleepily inclined; and after a word or two exchanged
+with him Dolly began to go round the room, looking to see if anything
+needed her ordering hand. Truly she found nothing. Coming to the
+window, she paused a moment in idle wistfulness to see how the summer
+sunshine lay upon the oaks of the park. And standing there, she saw Mr.
+Shubrick, slowly going over the bridge. She turned away and went on
+with her progress round the room.
+
+"What are you about there, Dolly?" Mr. Copley called to her.
+
+"Just seeing if anything wants my attention, father."
+
+"Nothing does, I can tell you. The room is all right, and everything in
+it. I've been kept in order, since I have had a naval officer to attend
+upon me."
+
+"Don't I keep things in order, father?"
+
+"If you do, your mother don't. She thinks that anywhere is a place, and
+that one place is as good as another."
+
+"Mother seems to think I have neglected you lately. Have you missed me?"
+
+"Missed you! no. I have had care and company. Where did you pick up
+that young man, Dolly?"
+
+"I, father? I didn't pick him up."
+
+"How came he here, then? What brought him?"
+
+"I don't know," said Dolly. "Would you like to have me read to you?"
+
+"No, child. Shubrick reads to me and talks to me. He's capital company,
+though he's one of your blue sort."
+
+"Father! He is not blue, nor am I. Do you think I am blue?"
+
+"Sky blue," said her father. "He's navy blue. That's the difference."
+
+"I do not understand the difference," said Dolly, half laughing.
+
+"Never mind. What have you done with Mr. Shubrick?"
+
+"I?" said Dolly, aghast.
+
+"Yes. Where is he?"
+
+"Oh!--I believe, mother sent him into the park."
+
+"Sent him into the park? What for?"
+
+"I do not mean that she sent him," said Dolly, correcting herself in
+some embarrassment; "I mean, that she sent me up here, and he went into
+the park."
+
+"I wish he'd come back, then. I want him to finish reading to me that
+capital article on English and European politics."
+
+"Can I finish it?"
+
+"No, child. You don't understand anything about the subject. Shubrick
+does. I like to discuss things with him; he's got a clear head of his
+own; he's a capital talker. When is he going?"
+
+"Going where, father?"
+
+"Going away. He can't stay here for ever, reading politics and putting
+my room in order. How long is he going to stay?"
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"Well--when he goes I shall go! I shall not be able to hold out here. I
+shall go back to London. I can't live where there is not a man to speak
+to some time in the twenty-four hours. Besides, I can do nothing here.
+I might as well be a cabbage, and a cabbage without a head to it."
+
+"Are we cabbages?" asked Dolly at this. "Mother and I?"
+
+"Cabbage roses, my dear; cabbage roses. Nothing worse than that."
+
+"But even cabbage roses, father, want somebody to take care of them."
+
+"I'll take care of you. But I can do it best in London."
+
+"Then you do not want me to read to you father?" Dolly said after a
+pause.
+
+"No, my dear, no, my dear. If you could find that fellow Shubrick--I
+should like him."
+
+And Mr. Copley closed his eyes as if to sleep, finding nothing worthy
+to occupy his waking faculties. Dolly sat by the window, looking out
+and meditating. Yes, Mr. Shubrick would be going away, probably soon;
+his furlough could not last always. Meanwhile, she had given him no
+answer to his questions and propositions. It was rather hard upon him,
+Dolly felt; and she had a sort of yearning sympathy towards her suitor.
+A little impatience seized her at being shut up here in her father's
+room, where he did not want her, and kept from the walk in the park
+with Mr. Shubrick, who did want her. He wanted her very much, Dolly
+knew; he had been waiting patiently, and she had disappointed every
+effort he made to get speech of her and see her alone, just because she
+was shy of him and of herself. But it was hardly fair to him, after
+all, and it could not go on. He had a right to know what she would say
+to his proposition; and she was keeping him in uneasiness, (to put it
+mildly), Dolly knew quite well. And now, when could she see him? when
+would she have a chance to speak to him alone, and to hear all that she
+yet wanted to hear? but indeed Dolly now was thinking not so much of
+what she wanted as of what _he_ wanted; and her uneasiness grew. He
+might be obliged to go off suddenly; officers' orders are stubborn
+things; she might have no chance at all, for aught she knew, after this
+afternoon. She looked at her father; he had dozed off. She looked out
+of the window; the afternoon sun, sinking away in the west, was sending
+a flood of warm light upon and among the trees of the park. It must be
+wonderfully pretty there! It must be vastly pleasant there! And there,
+perhaps, Mr. Shubrick was sitting at this moment on the bank, wishing
+for her, and feeling impatiently that his free time was slipping away.
+Dolly's heart stirred uneasily. She had been very shy of him; she was
+yet; but now she felt that he had a right to his answer. Something that
+took the guise of conscience opposed her shy reserve and fought with
+it. Mr. Shubrick had a _right_ to his answer; and she was not treating
+him well to let him go without it.
+
+Dolly looked again at her father. Eyes closed, breathing indicative of
+gentle slumber. She looked again over at the sunlit park. It was
+delicious over there, among its sunny and shadowy glades. Perhaps Mr.
+Shubrick had walked on, tempted by the beauty, and was now at a
+distance; perhaps he had not been tempted, and was still near, up there
+among the trees, wanting to see her.
+
+Dolly turned away from the window and with a quick step went
+downstairs. She met nobody. Her straw flat was on the hall table; she
+took it up and went out; through the garden, down to the bridge, over
+the bridge, with a step not swift but steady. Mr. Shubrick had a right
+to his answer, and she was simply doing what was his due, and there
+might be no time to lose. She went a little more slowly when she found
+herself in the park; and she trembled a little as her eye searched the
+grassy openings. She was not quite so confident here. But she went on.
+
+She had not gone very far before she saw him; under the same oak where
+they had sat together; lying on his elbow on the turf and reading.
+Dolly started, but then advanced slowly, after that one minute's check
+and pause. He was reading; he did not see her, and he did not hear her
+light footstep coming up the bank; until her figure threw a shadow
+which reached him. Then he looked up and sprang up; and perhaps
+divining it, met Dolly's hesitation, for, taking her hands he placed
+her on the bank beside his open book; which book, Dolly saw, was his
+Bible. But her shyness had all come back. The impression made by the
+thought of a person, when you do not see him, is something quite
+different from the living and breathing flesh and blood personality.
+Mr. Shubrick, on the other hand, was in a widely different mood; which
+Dolly knew, I suppose, though she could not see.
+
+"This is unlooked-for happiness," said he, throwing himself down on the
+bank beside her. "What have you done with Mr. Copley?"
+
+"Nothing. He did not want me. He asked me what I had done with Mr.
+Shubrick? I think you have spoiled him." Dolly spoke without looking at
+her companion, be it understood, and her breath came a little short.
+
+"And what are you going to do with Mr. Shubrick?" her companion said,
+not in the tone of a doubtful man, lying there on the bank and watching
+her.
+
+But Dolly found no words. She could not say anything, well though she
+recognised Mr. Shubrick's right to have his answer. Her eyes were
+absolutely cast down; the colour on her cheek varied a little, yet not
+with the overwhelming flushes of the other day. Dolly was struggling
+with the sense of duty, the necessity for action, and yet she could not
+act. She had come to the scene of action, indeed, and there her bravery
+failed her; and she sat with those delicate lights coming and going on
+her cheek, and the brown eyes hidden behind the sweep of the lowered
+eyelashes; most like a shy child. Mr. Shubrick could have smiled, but
+he kept back the smile.
+
+"You know," he said in calm, matter-of-fact tones, that met Dolly's
+sense of business, "my action must wait upon your decision. If you do
+not let me stay, I must go, and that at once. What do you want me to
+do?"
+
+"I do not want you to go," Dolly breathed softly.
+
+Silently Mr. Shubrick held out his hand. As silently, though frankly,
+Dolly put hers into it. Still she did not look at him. And he
+recognised what sort of a creature he was dealing with, and had sense
+and delicacy and tact and manliness enough not to startle her by any
+demonstration whatever. He only held the little hand, still and fast,
+for a space, during which neither of them said anything; then, however,
+he bent his head over the hand and kissed it.
+
+"My fingers are not accustomed to such treatment," said Dolly, half
+laughing, and trying hard to strike into an ordinary tone of
+conversation, though she left him the hand.  "I do not think they ever
+were kissed before."
+
+"They have got to learn!" said her companion.
+
+Dolly was silent again. It was with a great joy at her heart that she
+felt her hand so clasped and held, and knew that Mr. Shubrick had got
+his answer and the thing was done; but she did not show it, unless to a
+nice observer. And a nice observer was by her side. Yet he kept silence
+too for a while. It was one of those full, blessed silences that are
+the very reverse of a blank or a void; when the heart's big treasure is
+too much to be immediately unpacked, and words when they come are quite
+likely enough not to touch it and to go to something comparatively
+indifferent. However, words did not just that on the present occasion.
+
+"Dolly, I am in a sort of amazement at my own happiness," Mr. Shubrick
+said.
+
+Dolly could have answered, so was she! but she did not. She only
+dimpled a little, and flushed.
+
+"I have been waiting for you all these years," he went on; "and now I
+have got you!"
+
+Dolly's dimples came out a little more. "I thought you did not wait,"
+she remarked.
+
+Mr. Shubrick laughed. "My heart waited," he said. "I made a boy's
+mistake; and I might have paid a man's penalty for it. But I had always
+known that you and no other would be my wife, if I could find you. That
+is, if I could persuade you; and somehow I never allowed myself to
+doubt of that. I did not take such a chance into consideration."
+
+"But I was such a little child," said Dolly.
+
+"Ay," said he; "that was it. You were _such_ a little child."
+
+"But you must have been a very extraordinary midshipman, it seems to
+me."
+
+"By the same rule you must have been a very extraordinary little girl."
+
+They both laughed at that.
+
+"I suppose we were both extraordinary," said Dolly; "but, really, Mr.
+Shubrick, you know very little about me!"
+
+His answer to that was to kiss again the hand he held.
+
+"What do you know of me?"
+
+"I think I know a great deal about you," said Dolly softly.
+
+"You have a great deal to learn. Wouldn't you like to begin by hearing
+how Miss Thayer and I came to an understanding?"
+
+"Oh, yes, yes! if you please," said Dolly, extremely glad to get upon a
+more abstract subject of conversation.
+
+"I owe that to myself, perhaps," Mr. Shubrick went on; "and I certainly
+owe it to you. I told you how I got into my engagement with her. It was
+a boyish fancy; but all the same, I was bound by it; and I should have
+been legally bound before now, only that Christina always put off that
+whenever I proposed it. I found too that the putting it off did not
+make me miserable. Dolly, the case is going to be different this time!"
+
+"You mean," said Dolly doubtfully, "it _is_ going to make you
+miserable?"
+
+"No! I mean, you are not going to put me off."
+
+"Oh, but!"----said Dolly flushing, and stopped.
+
+"I have settled that point in my own mind," he said, smiling; "it is as
+well you should know it at once.--So time went by, until I went to
+spend that Christmas Day in Rome. After that day I knew nearly all that
+I know now. Of course it followed, that I could not accept the
+invitation to Sorrento, when you were expected to be there. I could not
+venture to see you again while I was bound in honour to another woman.
+I stayed on board ship, those hot summer days, when all the officers
+that could went ashore. I stayed and worked at my problem--what I was
+to do."
+
+He paused and Dolly said nothing. She was listening intently, and
+entirely forgetting that the sunlight was coming very slant and would
+soon be gone, and that home and supper were waiting for her managing
+hand. Dolly's eyes were fixed upon another hand, which held hers, and
+her ears were strained to catch every word. She rarely dared glance at
+Mr. Shubrick's face.
+
+"I wonder what counsel you would have given me?" he went on,--"if I
+could have asked it of you as an indifferent person,--which you were."
+
+"I don't know," said Dolly. "I know what people think"----
+
+"Yes, I knew what people think, too; and it a little embarrassed my
+considerations. However, Dolly, I made up my mind at last to
+this;--that to marry Christina would be acting a lie; that I could not
+do that; and that if I could, a lie to be acted all my life long would
+be too heavy for me. Negatively, I made up my mind. Positively, I did
+not know exactly how I should work it. But I must see Christina. And as
+soon as affairs on board ship permitted, I got a furlough of a few days
+and went to Sorrento. I got there one lovely afternoon, about three
+weeks after you had gone. Sea and sky and the world generally were
+flooded with light and colour, so as I have never seen them anywhere
+else, it seems to me. You know how it is."
+
+"Yes, I know Sorrento," said Dolly. But just then, an English bank
+under English oaks seemed as good to the girl as ever an Italian
+paradise. That, naturally, she did not show. "I know Sorrento," she
+said quietly.
+
+"And you know the Thayers' villa. I found Christina and Mr. St. Leger
+sitting on the green near the house, under an orange tree--symbolical;
+and the air was sweet with a thousand other things. I felt it with a
+kind of oppression, for the mental prospect was by no means so
+delicious."
+
+"No," said Dolly. "And sometimes that feeling of contrast makes one
+very keen to see all the lovely things outside of one."
+
+"Do _you_ know that?" said Mr. Shubrick.
+
+"Yes. I know it"
+
+"One can only know it by experience. What experience can you have had,
+my Dolly, to let you feel it?"
+
+Dolly turned her eyes on him without speaking. She was thinking of
+Venice at midnight under the moon, and a sail, and a wine-shop. Tell
+him? No, indeed, never!
+
+"You are not ready to let me know?" said he, smiling. "How long first
+must it be?"
+
+"It isn't anything you need know," said Dolly, looking away. But with
+that the question flashed upon her, would he not have to know? had he
+not a right? "Please go on," she said hurriedly.
+
+"I can go on now easier than I could then," he said with a half laugh.
+"I sat down with them, and purposely brought the conversation upon the
+theme of my trouble. It came quite naturally, _apropos_ of a case of a
+broken engagement which was much talked of just then; and I started my
+question. Suppose one or the other of the parties had discovered that
+the engagement was a mistake? They gave it dead against me; all of
+them; Mrs. Thayer had come out by that time. They were unanimous in
+deciding that pledges made must be kept, at all hazards."
+
+"I think that is the general view," said Dolly.
+
+"It is not yours?"
+
+"I never thought much about it. But I think people ought always and
+everywhere to be true.--That is nothing to kiss my hand for," Dolly
+added with the pretty flush which was coming and going so often this
+afternoon.
+
+"You will let me judge of that."
+
+"I didn't think you were that sort of person."
+
+"What sort of person?"
+
+"One of those that kiss hands."
+
+"Shall I choose something else to kiss, next time?"
+
+But Dolly looked so frightened that Mr. Shubrick, laughing, went back
+to his story.
+
+"We were at Sorrento," he said. "You can suppose my state of mind. I
+thought at least I would take disapprobation piecemeal, and I asked
+Christina to go out on the bay with me. You have been on the bay of
+Sorrento about sun-setting?"
+
+"Oh yes, many a time."
+
+"I did not enjoy it at first. I hope you did. I think Christina did. It
+was the fairest evening imaginable; and my oar, every stroke I made,
+broke and shivered purple and golden waters. It was sailing over the
+rarest possible mosaic in which the pattern was constantly shifting. I
+studied it, while I was studying how to begin what I had to do. Then,
+after a while, when we were well out from shore, I lay on my oars, and
+asked Miss Thayer whether she were sure that her judgment was according
+to her words, in the matter we had been discussing at the house? She
+asked what I meant. I put it to her then, whether she would choose to
+marry a man who liked another woman better than he did herself?
+
+"Christina's eyes opened a little, and she said 'Not if she knew it.'
+
+"'Then you gave a wrong verdict up there,' I said.
+
+"'But that was about what the _man_ should do,' she replied. 'If he
+has made a promise, he must fulfil it. Or the woman, if it is the
+woman.'
+
+"'Would not that be doing a wrong to the other party?'
+
+"'How a wrong?' said Christina. 'It would be keeping a promise. Every
+honourable person does that.'
+
+"'What if it be a promise which the other side no longer wishes to
+have kept?'
+
+"'You cannot tell that,' said Christina. 'You cannot know. Probably
+the other side does wish it kept.'
+
+"I reminded her that she had just declared _she_, in the circumstances,
+would not wish it; but she said, somewhat illogically, 'that it made no
+difference.'
+
+"I suggested an application of the golden rule."
+
+"Yes," said Dolly; "I think that rule settles it. I should think no
+woman would let a man marry her who, she knew, liked somebody else
+better."
+
+"And no man in his senses--no _good_ man," said Sandie, "would have a
+woman for his wife whose heart belonged to another man; or, leaving
+third parties out of the question, whose heart did not belong to _him_.
+I said something of this to Christina. She answered me with the
+consequences of scandal, disgrace, gossip, which she said attend the
+breaking off of an engagement. In short, she threw over all my
+arguments. I had to come to the point. I asked her if she would like to
+marry _me_, if she knew that I liked somebody else better?
+
+"She opened her eyes at me. 'Do you, Sandie?' she said. And I told her
+yes.
+
+"'Who?' she asked as quick as a flash. And I knew then that _her_
+heart was safe," Mr. Shubrick added with a smile. "I told her frankly,
+that ever since Christmas Day, I had known that if I ever married
+anybody it would be the lady I then saw with her.
+
+"'Dolly!' she cried. 'But you don't know her, Sandie.'"
+
+Mr. Shubrick and Dolly both stopped to laugh.
+
+"I am sure that was true. And I should think unanswerable," said Dolly.
+
+"It was not true. Do you think it is true now?"
+
+"Well, you know me a little better, but I should think, not much."
+
+"Shows how little you can tell about it. By the same reasoning, I
+suppose you do not know _me_ much?"
+
+"No," said Dolly. "Yes, I do! I know you a great deal, in some things.
+If I didn't"---- she flushed up.
+
+"We both know enough to begin with; is that it? Do you remember, that
+evening, Christmas Eve, how you sat by the corner of the fireplace and
+kept quiet, while Miss Thayer talked?"
+
+"Yes." Dolly remembered it very well.
+
+"You wore a black dress, and no ornaments, and the firelight shone on a
+cameo ring on your hand, and on your face, and the curls of your hair,
+and every now and then caught this," said Mr. Shubrick, touching
+Dolly's chain. "Christina talked, and I studied you."
+
+"One evening," said Dolly.
+
+"One evening; but I was reading what was not written in an evening.
+However, I left Christina's objection unanswered--though I do not allow
+that it is unanswerable; and waited. She needed a little while to come
+to her breath."
+
+"Poor Christina!" said Dolly.
+
+"Not at all; it was poor Sandie, if anybody. I do not think Christina
+suffered, more than a little natural and very excusable mortification.
+She never loved me. I had guessed as much before, and I was relieved
+now to find that I had been certainly right. But she needed a little
+while to get her breath, nevertheless. She asked me if I was serious?
+then, why I did not tell her sooner? I replied that I had had a great
+fight to fight before I could make up my mind to tell her at all.
+
+"And then, as I judge, _she_ had something of a fight to go through.
+She turned her face away from me, and sat silent. I did not interrupt
+her; and we floated so a good while on the coloured sea. I do not
+believe she knew what the colours were; but I did, I confess. I had got
+a weight off my mind. The bay of Sorrento was very lovely to me that
+evening. After a good while, Christina turned to me again, and I could
+see that she was all taut and right now. She began with a compliment to
+me."
+
+"What was it?" Dolly asked.
+
+"Said I was a brave fellow, I believe."
+
+"I am sure I think that was true."
+
+"Do you? It is harder to be false than true, Dolly."
+
+"All the same, it takes bravery sometimes to be true."
+
+"So Christina seemed to think. I believe I said nothing; and she went
+on, and added she thought I had done right, and she was much obliged to
+me."
+
+"That was like Christina," said Dolly.
+
+"'But you are bold,' she said again, 'to tell me!'
+
+"I assured her I had not been bold at all, but very cowardly.
+
+"'What do you expect people will say?'
+
+"I told her I had been concerned only and solely with the question of
+how she herself would take my disclosure; what she would say, and how
+she would feel.
+
+"She was silent again.
+
+"'But, Sandie,' she began after a minute or two which were not yet
+pleasant minutes to either of us,--'I think it was very risky. It's all
+right, or it will be all right, I believe, soon,--but suppose I had
+been devotedly in love with you? Suppose it had broken my heart? It
+_hasn't_--but suppose it had?'"
+
+"Yes," said Dolly. "You could not know."
+
+"I think I knew," said Mr. Shubrick. "But at any rate, Dolly, I should
+have done just the same. 'Fais que dois, advienne que pourra,' is a
+grand old motto, and always safe. I could not marry one woman while I
+loved another. The question of breaking hearts does not come in. I had
+no right to marry Christina, even to save her life, if that had been in
+danger. But happily it was not in danger. She did shed a few tears, but
+they were not the tears of a broken heart. I told her something like
+what I have been saying to you.
+
+"'But Dolly!' she said. 'You do not know her, you do not even _know
+her_.' That thought seemed to weigh on her mind."
+
+"What could you say to it?" said Dolly.
+
+"I said nothing," Mr. Shubrick answered, smiling. "Then Christina went
+on to remark that Miss Copley did not know me; and that possibly I had
+been brave for nothing. I still made no answer; and she declared she
+saw it in my face, that I was determined it should _not_ be for
+nothing. She wished me success, she added; but 'Dolly had her own way
+of looking at things.'"
+
+Dolly could not help laughing.
+
+"So that is my story," Mr. Shubrick concluded.
+
+"And, oh, look at the light, look at the light!" said Dolly, jumping
+up. "Where will mother think I and supper are!"
+
+"She thinks probably that you are in Mr. Copley's room."
+
+"No, she knows I am not; for she is sure to be there herself."
+
+"Then I will go straight to them, while you bring up arrears with
+supper."
+
+"And Christina will marry Mr. St. Leger!" said Dolly, while she flushed
+high at this suggestion. "Yet I am not surprised."
+
+"Is it a good match?"
+
+"The world would say so."
+
+"_I_ am not," said Sandie, "according to the same judgment. I am not
+rich, Dolly. By and by I will tell you all I have. But it is enough for
+us to live upon comfortably."
+
+Nobody had ever seen Dolly so shy and blushing and timid as she was
+now, walking down the bank by Mr. Shubrick's side. It was a bit of the
+same lovely manifestation which he had been enjoying for a day or two
+with a little alloy. It was without alloy that he enjoyed it now.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+WAYS AND MEANS.
+
+As they entered the house, Dolly went downstairs and Mr. Shubrick up;
+she trembling and in a maze, he with a glad, free step, and a
+particularly bright face. Mrs. Copley was with her husband, as Dolly
+had opined.
+
+"Here's one of them," cried Mr. Copley as Sandie entered. "Where have
+you been all this while? If you think I'll do to be left alone yet,
+you're mistaken. Where have you been?"
+
+"In what I believe is the park of Brierley--over there under the oaks."
+
+"And where is Dolly, Mr. Shubrick?" Dolly's mother asked.
+
+"I have just brought her home. She is downstairs."
+
+"I sent her to take care of her father," said Mrs. Copley in a
+dissatisfied tone.
+
+"She informed me that Mr. Copley did not want her, and preferred me,"
+said Mr. Shubrick.
+
+"But you did not come?" said Mrs. Copley suspiciously.
+
+He stood looking at her half a minute, with a slight smile upon his
+face, the frank, pleasant smile which belonged to him; then he turned,
+took a glass from the table and came to Mr. Copley's side to give him a
+draught which was due. Next he lifted his patient by the shoulders a
+little, to arrange the pillows behind him, and as he laid him back upon
+them he said quietly--"Will you give your daughter to me, Mr. Copley?"
+
+Mr. Copley looked, or stared rather, grumly enough at the speaker.
+
+"That means, you have got her already!"
+
+"Not without your consent."
+
+"I thought as much! Does Dolly want to marry you?"
+
+"I do not know," said Sandie with a smile; "but I believe I may say
+that she will marry nobody else."
+
+"Ay, there it is. I have other views for my daughter."
+
+"And I thought you were engaged to Miss Thayer?" put in Mrs. Copley.
+
+"True; I was; but that was a boyish mistake. We have all other views.
+Miss Thayer is to marry your friend, Mr. St. Leger."
+
+"Christina!" cried Mrs. Copley. "Didn't I know Mrs. Thayer would do
+that, if she could! And now she has done it. And Christina has thrown
+you over?"
+
+"Not at all," said Sandie, again with a smile. "And you have not to
+blame Mrs. Thayer, so far as I know. Miss Thayer and I are very good
+friends, but we were never intended to marry each other. We have found
+that out, and acted accordingly."
+
+"And she has got him!" Mrs. Copley repeated. "I told Dolly she would
+like to do that. Put their two fortunes together, and they will have
+enough," said poor Mrs. Copley. "That comes of our going to Sorrento!"
+
+"Look here, young man," said Mr. Copley. "If I give you Dolly, as you
+say, after she has given herself,--the witch!--what are you and she
+going to live on?"
+
+"We have something to live on," said the young man with quiet
+independence.
+
+"Not much, I'll be sworn!"
+
+"Not perhaps what you would call much. A lieutenant in the navy is not
+likely to have more than a very moderate fortune."
+
+"Fortune! What do you call a fortune?"
+
+"Enough to live on."
+
+"Are you ever going to be a captain?"
+
+"I cannot say. But there is some prospect of it."
+
+"Things might be worse, then," grumbled Mr. Copley. "Anyhow, you have
+tied my tongue, my fine fellow. I can't say a word against you. But
+look here;--if you don't want a wife that will rule you, I advise you
+not to marry my Dolly. She's a witch for having her own way. 'My
+Dolly'!" Mr. Copley half groaned. "I suppose now she's your Dolly. I
+don't want to give her to any man, that's the truth."
+
+"And I thought all this nursing had been so disinterested!" said Mrs.
+Copley dolefully.
+
+Sandie's answer to this was conclusive, of the subject and the
+conversation both. He went up to Mrs. Copley, took her hand, and bent
+down and kissed her. Just at that moment they were called to supper;
+and Mrs. Copley, completely conquered, went down with all her
+reproaches smothered in the bud. Yet I confess her face showed a
+conflict of feelings as she entered the kitchen. It was cloudy with
+disappointment, and at the same time her eyes were wet with tears of
+some sweeter feeling. Dolly, standing behind the supper-table, looked
+from the one to the other as the two came in.
+
+"It is all settled, Dolly," said Mr. Shubrick.
+
+And I think he would have taken his betrothal kiss, then and there, had
+not Dolly's glance been so shy and shrinking that she flashed at him.
+She was standing quietly and upright; there was no awkwardness in her
+demeanour; it was the look of her eyes that laid bans upon Sandie. He
+restrained himself; paid her no particular attention during supper;
+talked a great deal, but on entirely indifferent subjects; and if he
+played the lover to anybody, certainly it was to Mrs. Copley.
+
+"He is a good young man, I believe," said Mrs. Copley, making so much
+of an admission as she and Dolly went upstairs.
+
+"O mother," said Dolly, half laughing and half vexed, "you say that
+just because he has been entertaining you!"
+
+"Well," returned Mrs. Copley. "I like to be entertained. Don't you find
+him entertaining?"
+
+Mr. Shubrick kept up the same tactics for several days; behaving
+himself in the house very much as he had done ever since he had come to
+it. And out of the house, though he and Dolly took long walks and held
+long talks together; he was very cool and undemonstrative. He would let
+her get accustomed to him. And certainly in these conversations he was
+entertaining. Walking, or sitting on the bank under some old beech or
+oak tree, he had endless things to tell Dolly; things to which she
+listened as eagerly as ever Desdemona did to Othello; stories out of
+which, avoid personalities as he would, she could not but gain, step by
+step, new knowledge of the story-teller. And hour by hour Dolly's
+respect for him and appreciation of him grew. Little by little she
+found how thorough his education was, and how fine his accomplishments.
+Especially as a draughtsman. Easily and often, in telling her of some
+place or of some naval engagement, Sandie would illustrate for her with
+any drawing materials that came to hand; making spirited and masterly
+sketches with a few strokes of his hand, it might be on paper, or on a
+bit of bark, or on the ground even.
+
+"Ah," said Dolly one day, watching him, "I cannot do that! I can do
+something, but I cannot do that."
+
+"What can you do?" inquired Sandie.
+
+"I can copy. I can take down the lines of a face, or of a bridge, or a
+house, when I see it before me; but I cannot put things on paper out of
+my thoughts. Do you remember how you did this sort of thing for me the
+very first time I saw you?--in the gun deck of the 'Achilles'?"
+
+He smiled, finishing the sketch he was about.
+
+"I remember. I remember what pleasure it gave me, too. At that time I
+had a little sister, just your age, of whom I was exceedingly fond."
+
+"At that time--you _had?_" Dolly repeated.
+
+"Yes," he said soberly; "I have not anybody now, of near kin to me."
+
+Dolly's hand with mute sympathy stole into his. It was the first action
+of approach to him that she had made, unless that coming to him in the
+park three or four days before might be reckoned in the bargain. He
+tossed his drawing into her lap and warmly clasped the hand.
+
+"It is time you began to talk to me, Dolly," he said. "I have talked a
+great deal, but you have said next to nothing. You must have a great
+many questions to ask me."
+
+"I don't know," said Dolly.
+
+"Why, you know nothing about me," he said with a laughing look of his
+eyes. "You had better begin. You may ask me anything."
+
+"But knowing a person and knowing _about_ him, are very different
+things."
+
+"Very. And if you have the one sort of knowledge, it seems to me you
+must want to have the other. Unless, where both are alike
+uninteresting; which I cannot suppose is my case."
+
+"No," said Dolly, laughing a little, "but I suppose you will tell me
+things by degrees, without my asking."
+
+"What makes you suppose that?"
+
+"It would be natural, wouldn't it?"
+
+"_Would_ it be natural, without your showing any interest?"
+
+"Ah, but now _you_ are supposing. Perhaps I should show interest."
+
+Sandie laughed now heartily.
+
+"I will try you," said he. "I will begin and tell you something without
+questions asked. Dolly, I have a house."
+
+"Have you?"
+
+"You do not care to hear about it?"
+
+"I am glad that you have a house," said Dolly demurely. Sandie was
+lying on the turfy bank, in a convenient position for looking up into
+her eyes; and she found it not precisely an easy position for her.
+
+"You do not take it as a matter of personal concern?"
+
+"It is a house a long way off," said Dolly. "Just now we are here.''
+
+"How much longer do you expect to be here?"
+
+"That I do not know at all. Mother and I have tried and tried to get
+father to go home again,--and we cannot move him."
+
+"I must try," said Mr. Shubrick.
+
+"Oh, if you could!" said Dolly, clasping her hands unconsciously--"I
+don't know what I would give. He seems to mind you more than anybody."
+
+"What keeps him here? Business?"
+
+"I suppose it is partly business," said Dolly slowly, not knowing quite
+how to answer. And then darted into her heart with a pang of doubt and
+pain, the question: was not Mr. Shubrick entitled to know what kept her
+father in England, and the whole miserable truth of it? She had been so
+occupied and so happy these last days, she had never fairly faced the
+question before. It almost caught her breath away.
+
+"Dolly, when we all go back to America, the house I speak of will not
+be 'far off.'"
+
+"No," said Dolly faintly.
+
+"Look here," said he, taking one of her hands. "It is a house I hope
+you will like. _I_ like it, though it has no pretension whatever. It is
+an old house; and the ground belonging to it has been in the possession
+of my family for a hundred years; the house itself is not quite so old.
+But the trees about it are. The old house stands shut up and empty. I
+told you, I have no one very near of kin left to me; so even when I am
+at home I do not go there. I have never lived there since my mother
+left it."
+
+Dolly was silent.
+
+"Now, how soon do you think I may have the house opened and put in
+order for living in?"
+
+There came up a lovely rose colour in the cheeks he was looking at;
+however Dolly answered with praiseworthy steadiness----
+
+"That is a matter for you to consider."
+
+"Is it?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"But you know it would be no use to open it, until somebody is ready to
+live there."
+
+"No," said Dolly. "Of course--I suppose not."
+
+"So you see, after all, I have to come to you with questions, seeing
+you will ask me none."
+
+"Oh," said Dolly, "I will ask you questions, if you will let me. I
+would rather ask than answer."
+
+"Very well," said he, laughing. "I give place to you. Ask what you
+like."
+
+Then followed silence. The young officer lay easily on the bank at her
+feet, holding Dolly's hand; sometimes bringing his eyes to bear upon
+her face, sometimes letting them rove elsewhere; amused, but waiting.
+
+"I shall have to begin again," said he.
+
+"No, don't," said Dolly. "Mr. Shubrick, where is your house?"
+
+"About fifty miles from Boston, in one of the prettiest New England
+villages on the coast."
+
+"And how much ground is there round it?"
+
+"About a hundred acres."
+
+"Doesn't it spoil a house to be shut up so?"
+
+"It is not good for it. But there is nobody belonging to me that I
+would like to see in it; and I could never rent the old place. I am
+very fond of it, Dolly. It is full of associations to me."
+
+It swept through Dolly, how she would like to put it in order and keep
+it open for him; and again she was silent, till admonished by a
+laughing, "Go on."
+
+But Dolly did not know what further to say, and was still silent.
+
+"There is one question you have not asked me," Mr. Shubrick said,
+"which would be a very pertinent one just now. You have never asked me
+how long _I_ was going to stay in England."
+
+"No," said Dolly, starting. "How soon must you--how long can you stay?"
+
+"My leave expires in two weeks."
+
+"Two weeks! And can you not get it extended?"
+
+"I don't know. Perhaps, for a little. But, Dolly, there is a prospect
+of the 'Red Chief' being ordered home; and there is a further
+possibility that I may have to take her home; for Captain Busby is very
+much out of health and wants to stay the winter over in Naples."
+
+"You may have to take her home. Will that give you the ship, do you
+mean?"
+
+"No," said he, smiling; "ships are not had at such an easy rate as
+that. But, Dolly, you perceive that there are several questions we must
+ask and answer; and the sooner the better."
+
+"Then," said Dolly a little hurriedly,--she was afraid of the questions
+that might be coming,--"if you go away in two or three weeks, when
+shall I see you again?"
+
+There was more of an admission made in these words than Dolly herself
+knew; and it was made with a tender, shy grace of tone and manner which
+touched the young officer with more than one feeling. He bent down to
+kiss Dolly's hand before he said anything.
+
+"That is one of the questions," he said. "Let me tell you what I have
+thought about it. The 'Red Chief' has been a long time out; she needs
+overhauling. She will probably be sent home soon, and I am like to be
+in charge of her. I may expect to get a long furlough when I go home;
+and--I want to spend every minute of it with you. I do not want to lose
+a day, Dolly. Do you understand? I want you to be all ready for me, so
+that we can be married the very day I get to you."
+
+"You mean, in America?" said Dolly, with a great flush.
+
+"I mean, in America, of course. I want to take you straight away from
+your old home to your new one. I will have the house put in
+readiness"----
+
+"When do you think you will be there?" Dolly broke in.
+
+"By Christmas, perhaps."
+
+"But I am here," said Dolly.
+
+"So am I here, just at present," said he, smiling. "But you can go over
+in one ship while I am going over in another, and be there as soon as
+I, or before."
+
+"I don't know," said Dolly. "I can't tell about father. I don't know
+when he will be persuaded to leave England."
+
+She looked doubtful and troubled now. Possible difficulties and
+hindrances began to loom up before her, never looked at until then.
+What if her father would not go? What if he persisted in staying by the
+companions who were his comrades in temptation? Could she go away and
+leave him to them? and leave her mother to him? Here offered itself
+another sort of self-sacrifice, to which nothing could be objected
+except its ruinous effect upon her own future. Nay, not _her_ own
+future alone; but what of that? "Fais que dois advienne que pourra." It
+all swept through Dolly's head with the speed, and something of the
+gloom, of a whirlwind.
+
+"I don't know anything about his movements," she repeated anxiously.
+"Only, mother and I cannot get him away."
+
+"In that case, I will come to England for you."
+
+"Oh  no!" said Dolly, shaking her head; "_that_ would not do. I could
+not leave him and mother here."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+Dolly was silent. She could not tell him why not.
+
+"Would it be more difficult here, than to leave them in America?" Mr.
+Shubrick asked, the smile upon his lips checked by the very troubled
+expression of Dolly's face.
+
+"It would not be 'difficult' here; it would be _impossible_."
+
+"May I ask, why more impossible, or difficult, than in America?"
+
+Dolly was silent. What could she say?
+
+"Suppose Mr. Copley should prefer to stay in England permanently?"
+
+"Yes," said Dolly in a sort of whisper.
+
+"What then?"
+
+"I do not know," she answered faintly.
+
+"In America it would be different?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Do you know, my little Dolly, you are speaking what it is very
+difficult for me to understand?"
+
+"Of course," said Dolly. "You cannot understand it."
+
+"Are you not going to give me the grace of an explanation?"
+
+"I cannot."
+
+"Then I shall go to Mr. Copley for it."
+
+"Oh no!" said Dolly, starting, and laying both her hands upon one of
+the young officer's, as if in pleading or in hindering. "Oh no, Mr.
+Shubrick! Please, _please_, do not speak to mother or father about
+this! Please say nothing about it!"
+
+He kissed and clasped the hands, making, however, no promise. For a
+moment he paused, seeing that Dolly was very deeply disturbed.
+
+"Do you think father and mother both could not be tempted to go home
+for your sake?" he then asked.
+
+"Oh, mother, yes; but father--I don't know about father."
+
+"I shall try my powers of persuasion," said Mr. Shubrick lightly.
+
+Dolly made no answer and was evidently in so much troubled confusion of
+thought that she was not ready, even if he were, to take up again the
+consideration of plans and prospects, or to enter into any other more
+indifferent subject of conversation. After a trial or two, seeing this,
+Mr. Shubrick proposed to get a book and read to her; which he had once
+or twice done to their great mutual pleasure. And as Dolly eagerly
+welcomed the proposal, he left her there on the bank and went down to
+the cottage, which was not very far off, to fetch the book. As soon as
+he was out of sight, Dolly laid her face in her hands.
+
+It was all rushing upon her now, what she had scarce looked at before
+in the pre-occupation and happiness of the last days. It was a
+confusion of difficult questions. Would her father leave the companions
+and habits to which he had grown so fast, and go back to America for
+her sake--that is, for the sake of seeing her promptly married? Dolly
+doubted it much. It was quite possible that her father would regard
+that consideration as the reverse of an inducement. It was quite
+possible that no unselfish inducement would have any power at all with
+him. Then he would stay in England. And so long as he was in England,
+in the clutches of the temptation that had got so much power, Dolly
+could not leave him; and if she could leave him, it would be impossible
+to forsake her mother, whose only stay and comfort on earth she was. In
+that case, what was she to say to Mr. Shubrick? How could he
+understand, that for Dolly to leave father and mother was any way
+different or more difficult than Christina's or any other girl's doing
+the same thing? He could not understand, unless she told him all; and
+how was it possible for her to do that? How could she tell her lover
+her father's shame? And if she simply refused to marry him and refused
+to give any reason, what was he to think then? Shame and fear and
+longing took such possession of Dolly that she was thrown into great
+perturbation. She left her seat on the bank and walked up and down
+under the great trees. A good burst of tears was near, but she would
+not give way to that; Sandie would see it. He would be back presently.
+And he would be putting his question again; and whatever in the world
+should she say to him? For the hundredth time the bitter apostrophe to
+her father rose in Dolly's heart. How _could_ he have let her be
+ashamed of him? And then another thought darted into her head. Had not
+Mr. Shubrick a right to know all about it? Dolly was almost distracted
+with her confusion of difficulties.
+
+She would not cry, which as she told herself would help nothing. She
+stood by a great oak branch which, leaving the parent trunk a few feet
+higher up, swept in lordly fashion, in a delicious curve, down towards
+the turf, with again a spring upward at its extremity. Dolly stood
+where it came lowest, and had rested her two arms upon it, looking out
+vaguely into the green wilderness beyond. She thought she was safe;
+that was not the side towards the cottage, from which quarter Mr.
+Shubrick would come; she would hear his steps in time before she turned
+round. But Mr. Shubrick had seen her standing there, and innocently
+made a little bend from the straight path so as to come up on one side
+and catch a stolen view of her sweet face. Coming so, he saw much more
+than he expected, and much more than Dolly would have let him see. The
+next moment he had taken the girl in his arms.
+
+Dolly started and would have freed herself, but she found she could not
+do it without making more effort than she was willing to use. She stood
+still, fluttering, trembling, and at the same time not a little abashed.
+
+"What is troubling you, Dolly?"
+
+Dolly dared not look and could not speak. Silence made an admission,
+she knew; nevertheless, she could find no words to say.
+
+"Don't you love me well enough to tell me?"
+
+"Oh, it isn't that," cried Dolly; "it's _because_"----
+
+Here Dolly's revelations came to an end, and yet she had revealed a
+good deal. A dark glow came into the young officer's eyes. Truly, she
+had before never told him so much as that she loved him. But his next
+words were spoken in the same tone with the foregoing. It was very
+affectionate, and withal there was a certain accent of authority in it.
+I think it awed Dolly a little. She had known really very little of
+authority, as exercised towards herself. This was something very unlike
+her father's careless acquiescence, or his careless opposition; very
+unlike the careless way in which he would sometimes throw his arm round
+her, affectionate though that was. The affection here was different,
+Dolly felt with an odd sort of astonishment; and the care, and the
+asserted right of ownership. It gave the girl a thrill of joy; at the
+same time it had upon her a kind of subduing effect. So came his next
+question, gently as it was put, and it was put very gently.
+
+"Do you not think I have a right to know?"
+
+"Perhaps," she stammered. "Oh, I don't know but you ought to know,--but
+how can I tell you! Oh, I don't know how I can tell you!"
+
+Dolly trembled in her doubt and distress; she fought down tears. Both
+hands went up to cover her face.
+
+"Is it a trouble in which I can help?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"If I am to help, you must tell me something more, Dolly."
+
+"Yes, but I cannot. Oh, if you knew, you would know that I cannot. I
+think perhaps you ought to know,--but I cannot tell you! I don't see
+how I can tell you!"
+
+"Then do not try to tell me, until we are married," said he soothingly.
+"It will be easier then."
+
+"But I think you ought to know before," said Dolly, and he felt how she
+trembled in his arms. "If you don't know, you will not be able to
+understand"----
+
+"What?" for Dolly paused.
+
+"What I do. You will not understand it."
+
+"What are you going to do?" said Mr. Shubrick, smiling; she knew he was
+smiling. "You are going home to be ready to meet me; and the day I
+come, we are going to be married. Then you can tell me what you like.
+Hey?"
+
+"But you don't know!" cried Dolly. "I can't tell when we shall go home.
+I don't know whether father will quit England for all I can say. I
+don't know whether he will ever quit it!"
+
+"Then, as I remarked before, I will have the honour to come to England
+and fetch you."
+
+"Ah, but I could not go then."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I could not leave them alone here."
+
+"Why not here as well as in America?"
+
+"My father needs me here," said Dolly in a low voice and with
+tears,--what sharp tears of bitterness!--coming into her eyes.
+
+"Needs you! Do not I need you?" said Mr. Shubrick.
+
+"No," said Dolly. "I am so glad you don't!" And her brown eyes gave one
+flash of undoubted, albeit inexplicable, pride and rejoicing into his
+face.
+
+"How do you dare say that, Dolly?" he asked in growing curiosity and
+mystification.
+
+"You can stand alone," she said, her voice again drooping. Mr. Shubrick
+was silent a moment, considering what this might mean. They had not
+altered their relative positions during this little dialogue. Dolly's
+face was again covered by her hands.
+
+"I don't know if I can stand alone," said Sandie at last slowly; "but I
+am not going to try."
+
+"Perhaps you must," said Dolly sadly, lifting her face again. "If I can
+get father to go home, I will; maybe you can do it if I cannot. But I
+am not sure that anybody can do it. Mr. Shubrick, he did not use to be
+like this; he was everything different; he was what you would have
+liked; but now he has got in with some people here in whose company
+he--oh, how can I tell you!" cried Dolly, bursting into tears; but then
+she fought them back and struggled for voice and went on with sad
+bravery. "I have told you so much, I must tell you the whole. He is not
+just master of himself; temptation takes hold of him and he cannot
+resist it. They lead him to play and--betting--and he loses money,--and
+then comes wine." Dolly's voice fell. "I have been trying and trying to
+get him back; sometimes I almost thought I had done it; but the
+temptation gets hold of him again, and then everything goes. And so, I
+cannot be sure," Dolly went on, as Mr. Shubrick remained silent, "what
+he will do about going home. Once he would have done it for me; but I
+do not know what he will do now. I cannot tell. And if there is a hope
+for him, it is in me. I have not been able to do much, yet; but if I
+cannot, no one can. Unless you, perhaps; but you cannot be with him.
+And you see, Mr. Shubrick, that even if I can be of no use to him, I
+could not leave mother all alone. I could not. I am glad you know it
+all now; but"----
+
+Dolly could say nothing more. In sorrow and shame and agitation of
+spirits, she broke down and sobbed.
+
+Her lover was very still; but though he spoke not a word, Dolly was
+feeling all the while the new guardianship she had come into; what
+strong love and what resolute care it was; feeling it the more because
+Mr. Shubrick was so quiet about it. It was new to Dolly; it was very
+delicious; ah, and what if she were but learning that now, to do
+without it for ever after! Her tears had more sources than one;
+nevertheless, as soon as she could manage it, Dolly mastered her
+feelings and checked down the expression of them; lifted her head and
+wiped her eyes, as if she had done now with tears for the term of her
+natural life. Even forced a smile, as she said--
+
+"Please, Mr. Shubrick, let me go,--you must be tired of me."
+
+Which Dolly, to be sure, had no reason to think, and had still less
+reason a minute after; being obliged to learn, somewhat to her
+astonishment, that there was also a difference in kisses as well as in
+some other things. Dolly was exceedingly filled with confusion.
+
+"I--didn't--give you leave!" she managed to say, abashed as she was.
+
+"No," said Sandie, laughing. "And yet I think you did, Dolly. I am glad
+to see your dimples again! Come here and sit down. I think I see the
+way out of our difficulties."
+
+"You have been quick in finding it," said Dolly, as he placed her on
+the bank.
+
+"Habit," said Sandie. "Sailors _must_ see their way and make their
+decisions quickly, if at all. At least, that is oftentimes the case.
+This is one of the cases."
+
+"Can you depend on decisions formed so suddenly?"--Dolly was driven by
+some unaccountable instinct of shyness to lead off from the subject in
+hand, nearly as it concerned her. And besides, she was too flushed and
+abashed to deal coolly with any subject.
+
+"_Must_ depend on them," said Sandie, laughing a little at her pretty
+confusion. "As I told you, there is often no other to be had. And a
+sailor cannot afford to change his course; he must see to it that he is
+right at first. Vacillation would be almost worse than anything."
+
+"At that rate, sailors must get a very downright way with them."
+
+"Perhaps. Are you afraid of it?"
+
+"No," said Dolly demurely. "Are you a good sailor?"
+
+Mr. Shubrick laughed out "Do you doubt it?"
+
+"No, not at all," said Dolly, laughing a little herself. "Only you can
+do so many things--drawing, and speaking so many languages,--I wanted
+to know if you were good at that too."
+
+"That is one of the necessities of my position, Dolly. A man who cannot
+sail a ship had better not try to command her."
+
+"I wish you would tell me one thing," said Dolly wistfully.
+
+"I will tell you anything."
+
+"I wish you would tell me how you got your promotion. When I saw you
+first, you were a midshipman on board the 'Achilles.' Christina told me
+you had distinguished yourself in the war. How was it?"
+
+Mr. Shubrick gave her a glance of surprise at first, at this very
+irrelevant propounding of questions; then a gleam came out of his blue
+eyes, which were not in the least like Mr. St. Leger's blue eyes; but
+he answered quite gravely.
+
+"You have a right to know, if anybody in the world has; and yet I
+cannot tell you, Dolly. I did nothing more than hundreds of others;
+nothing but my duty. Only it happens, that if a man is always doing his
+duty, now and then there comes a time that draws attention to him, and
+brings what he does into prominence; and he gets advancement perhaps;
+but it does not follow that he has done any more than hundreds of
+others would have done."
+
+"Are there so many men that are 'always doing their duty'?"
+
+"I hope so. I believe so. In naval affairs."
+
+"You have not told me what was the occasion that brought your doings
+into prominence?"
+
+He glanced at her with a flash in his eyes again.
+
+"Is that pressing just now?"
+
+"Isn't now a good time?" said Dolly, smiling.
+
+"No, for my head is full of something else. I can't tell you how I came
+to be promoted first. After I was raised to a lieutenancy, I got
+special credit for disciplining the crew."
+
+"Disciplining?" said Dolly.
+
+"Exercising them in gunnery practice."
+
+"Oh!--I remember how you told me about that in the gun deck of the
+'Achilles.'"
+
+"This was on board another ship. Her guns were well served upon an
+occasion that followed, and honourable mention was made of my services
+as having led to that result. Now shall I go on?"
+
+"If you have any more to tell."
+
+"I am going no further on that tack. You must come about."
+
+"I suppose," said Dolly quaintly, "I must if you must."
+
+"We were getting too far to leeward. We must come up into the wind a
+little more, Dolly, and face our difficulties. I think I have found the
+way out of them. As I understand you, it is quite a matter of
+uncertainty when, or if ever, Mr. Copley can be induced to leave
+England."
+
+"Quite uncertain. Even if he promised to-day that he would go next
+week, I could not be sure but he would change his mind before the day
+came."
+
+"And so long as he and your mother are here, they need you. Do you see,
+Dolly, what prospect that opens to us?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"The only thing to do, is to give me a right to speak in the matter."
+
+"You have a right to speak," said Dolly. "Only"----
+
+"I have no right to speak with authority. You must give me the
+authority."
+
+"How?" said Dolly shyly.
+
+"There is but one way. Don't you see, if I have the right to say where
+you shall be, the rest all follows?"
+
+"How can you?" said Dolly.
+
+He took her hand gently. "You must marry me before I go," said he. "It
+is the only way, Dolly. Don't be startled; you shall have all the time
+you want to get accustomed to the thought. I am not going to hurry you.
+The only difference is, that instead of being married the day I get to
+you in America, we will have the ceremony performed here, the day I
+leave you. Not till then, Dolly. But then, of course, you must go to
+America to meet me; and if I know anything of Mr. and Mrs. Copley,
+where you must be, they will choose to be also. I think I can get
+another week or two of leave, so that it will not seem so very sudden."
+
+Dolly had flushed and paled a little. She sat looking on the ground in
+silence. Mr. Shubrick let her have a while to herself, and then asked
+her what she thought of his plan?
+
+"I don't know," said Dolly faintly. "I mean," she added,--"perhaps it
+is the best way. I don't know but it is the only way. I don't believe
+mother will like it."
+
+"We will talk her over," said the young officer joyfully. "You said
+_she_ wishes to go home?"
+
+"Oh yes. And I think she will come over to our side, when she knows the
+reasons."
+
+Sandie bent down and reverently kissed the hand he held.
+
+"Then"---- said Dolly, on whose cheek the flushes were coming and
+going,--but she did not finish her sentence.
+
+"Then, what?"
+
+"I was thinking to ask, how soon or when you expect your ship to go
+home?"
+
+"I do not know certainly. Probably I shall be ordered home before
+Christmas; but it may not be till January."
+
+Dolly was silent again.
+
+"If our plan is carried out, _you_ will go sooner, will you not?"
+
+"Oh, immediately. As soon as possible."
+
+"In that case you will be there before I shall. I told you, I have
+nobody very nearly belonging to me; but there is a cousin--a sort of
+cousin--living in the place; Mrs. Armitage; I will send her word to
+open the house and get it in some sort of order for us."
+
+Both were silent again for a space, and I think not only one was happy.
+For Dolly knew the plan would work. But she was struggling besides with
+a thought which she wanted, and did not want, to speak. It must come
+out! or Dolly would not have been Dolly.
+
+"Mr. Shubrick"---- she began.
+
+"What?" said he eagerly; for Dolly's tone showed that there was a good
+deal behind it.
+
+"Would you--I was thinking"----
+
+"About what?"
+
+"The house. Would you--trust _me?_ I mean, of course, if we are there
+before you?"
+
+A flood of colour rushed over Dolly's face.
+
+"Trust you?" he said with a bright light in his eyes. "What am I going
+to do all my life? Trust you to put your own house in order? I cannot
+think of anything I should like quite so well. What a delightful
+thought, Dolly!"
+
+"I should like it," said Dolly shyly.
+
+"Then, instead of writing to Mrs. Armitage to open the house, I will
+send her an order to deliver the key to Mrs. Shubrick."
+
+He liked to watch how the colour flitted on her face, and the lines of
+brow and lip varied; how she fluttered like a caught bird, and yet a
+bird that did not want to fly away. Dolly was frank enough; there was
+nothing affected, or often even conscious, about this shy play; it was
+the purest nature in sweetest manifestation. Shyness was something
+Dolly had never been guilty of with anybody but Mr. Shubrick; it was an
+involuntary tribute she constantly paid to him.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+THIS PICTURE AND THAT.
+
+The plan worked, as Dolly had known from the first, that it would. Mrs.
+Copley came into it, and then Mr. Copley could not resist. It only
+grieved Mrs. Copley's heart that there should be, as she said, no
+wedding. "Might as well be married in a barn!" she said.
+
+The barn-like effect was a little taken off by Lord and Lady Brierley's
+presence at the ceremony, which to be sure was performed in no barn,
+but the pretty village church; and by the breakfast given to Dolly
+thereafter at the great house. This was not what Dolly or Mr. Shubrick
+had desired. It came about on this wise.
+
+Dolly went to pay a farewell visit of thanks to Lady Brierley and to
+her good friend the housekeeper. Sandie accompanied her. Now, Mr.
+Shubrick was one of those persons who make their way in all companies.
+Lady Brierley, talking to Dolly, eyed the while the figure of the young
+officer, his face, and his fine, quiet, frank manners; watched him
+talking with her husband, who happened to come in; and also caught with
+her practised eye a glance or two of Dolly's. Dolly, be it remarked,
+was not shy here; before her noble friends, she neither flushed nor
+trembled nor was nervous. But Lady Brierley saw how things were.
+
+"So," said her ladyship at last, when Dolly was about taking
+leave,--"you have not told me, but I know it,--you are going home to
+get married!"
+
+"That would seem to be the natural order of things," said Sandie, as
+Dolly was not immediately ready with her answer; "but we are going to
+reverse the terms. We are purposing to be married first and then go
+home."
+
+The lady looked at him with a curious mixture of expressions; it was
+too early in the century then for an officer of the American navy to be
+altogether a pleasant sight to the eyes of an Englishwoman; at the same
+time, she could not wholly withhold her liking from this young
+officer's fine looks and manly bearing. She turned to Dolly again.
+
+"I hope you are going to ask me to your wedding," she said. "When is it
+to be, Dolly?"
+
+"My mother thinks it does not deserve to be called a wedding," said
+Dolly, dimpling and growing rosy. "I should not have ventured to ask
+your ladyship. But if you are so kind--it is to be on the morning of
+the 10th--very early in the morning, for Mr. Shubrick has to set off
+that day to rejoin his ship."
+
+"I'll get up by daybreak," said her ladyship, arching her brows, "if it
+is necessary. And you will come here from the church and have breakfast
+with me, will you? It would be a great pleasure to me."
+
+So it had been arranged; and, as I said, Mrs. Copley had been a good
+deal comforted by the means. Lady Brierley's breakfast was beautiful;
+she had caused her rooms to be dressed with flowers in Dolly's honour;
+the company was small, but the more harmonious; and the presents given
+to Dolly were very handsome.
+
+And now there is nothing more to do, but to give two pictures; and even
+for them there is hardly room.
+
+The scene of the first, is a house in Harley Street, London. It is an
+excellent house, and just new furnished and put in cap-a-pie order from
+top to bottom. In the drawing-room a group of people taking a general
+survey. One of them a very handsome young man, in unexceptionable
+style, waiting upon two ladies; a beauty, and the beauty's mother.
+Things in the house meet approval.
+
+"I think it is perfect," said Mrs. Thayer. "Just perfect. The man has
+done his work very well." She was referring to the upholsterer, and at
+the moment looking at the window curtains.
+
+"Isn't that a lovely tint of French grey?" said Christina, "and the
+blue fringe is the right thing for it. I think the folds are a little
+too full--but it is a good fault. It is all right, I believe. I do like
+a drawing-room with no fault in it, no eye-sore."
+
+"There could hardly be any fault in the work of Hans and Piccalilly,"
+remarked St. Leger.
+
+"Oh, I don't know, Lawrence," said the young lady. "Didn't they do the
+Fortescues' house? and the drawing-room is in white and gold; very
+pretty in itself, but just think how it will set off all those florid
+people. A bunch of peonies on a white ground!"
+
+Lawrence laughed. "_You_ can bear anything," he said. "But blue suits
+you."
+
+"It's just perfect," Mrs. Thayer repeated. "I see nothing to find fault
+with. Yes, Christina can bear anything and wear anything. It saves a
+great deal of trouble. When I was a girl I had a different complexion.
+I wasn't a peony, but I _was_ a rose--not a white rose; and anything
+shading on red I could not wear; not purple, nor claret, nor even ashes
+of roses. It was a regular perplexity, to get variety enough with the
+small number of shades at my disposal; for orange did not become me,
+either. Well, I can wear anything now, too," she added with a half
+laugh. "And it is nothing to anybody."
+
+"Mamma, you know better than that," said Christina.
+
+"Now," said Lawrence, "the question is, when shall we take possession?
+The house is all ready for us."
+
+"There is no use in taking possession till we are ready to keep it; and
+it would be dull to stay in town all winter, wouldn't it?" said
+Christina. "Whatever should we do?"
+
+"Very dull," said Mrs. Thayer. "It is a long while yet before the
+season begins. Better be anywhere else."
+
+"I was thinking of Brighton," said Christina.  "I think I should like
+that."
+
+"After the Peacocks," said Lawrence. "We are due there, you know, for a
+visit."
+
+"Oh, after the Peacocks, of course. But then,--do you think, Lawrence,
+we could do anything better than go to Brighton? Till the season opens?"
+
+Brighton quite met Mr. St. Leger's views of what was desirable.
+
+It was a month or two later, as it happened, that another house was
+undergoing inspection, a house at a very great distance from Harley
+Street, geographically and otherwise; but let the reader judge. This
+was a country house in a fair New England village; where there was land
+enough for everybody, and everybody had land, and in consequence the
+habitations of men were individually, as the habitations of men should
+be, surrounded with grass and trees and fields; the very external
+arrangements of the place giving thereby a type of the free and
+independent life and wide space for mental and characteristic
+development enjoyed by the inhabitants. The particular house in
+question was not outwardly remarkable above many others; it stood in a
+fair level piece of ground, shaded and surrounded with beautiful old
+American elms. The inspectors of the same were two ladies.
+
+Dolly had come to the village a week or two before. Mr. Copley was not
+just then in condition to be left alone; so as her mother could not be
+with her, she had summoned her dear Aunt Hal, from Philadelphia; and
+Mr. Eberstein would not be left behind. All three they had come to this
+place, found quarters at the inn, and since then Dolly and Mrs.
+Eberstein had been very busy getting the house cleaned and put in
+order. The outside, as I said, gave promise of nothing remarkable;
+Dolly had been the more surprised and pleased to find the interior
+extremely pleasant and not commonplace. Rooms were large and airy;
+picturesquely arranged; and furnished, at least in part, in a style for
+which she had not been at all prepared. The house had been for a long
+stretch of years in the possession of a family, not wealthy, but well
+to do, and cultivated; and furthermore, several of the members of it at
+different times had been seafaring; and, as happens in such cases,
+there had been brought home from foreign parts a small multitude of
+objects of art or convenience which bore witness to distant industries
+and fashions. India mats of fine quality were on some of the floors;
+India hangings at some of the windows; beautiful china was found to be
+in quantity, both of useful and ornamental kinds. Little lacquered
+tables; others of curious inlaid work; bamboo chairs; Chinese screens
+and fans; and I know not what all besides. Dolly and Mrs. Eberstein
+reviewed these articles with great interest and admiration; they gave
+the house, simple as it was, an air of elegance which its exterior
+quite forbade one to look for. At the same time, some other necessary
+things were wanting, or worn. The carpet in what Dolly called the
+drawing-room was one of these instances. It was very much the worse for
+wear. Dolly and her aunt went carefully over everything; adjusting,
+supplying, arranging, here and there; Dolly getting a number of small
+presents by the way, and a few that were not small. At last Mr.
+Eberstein sent in a fine carpet for the drawing-room; and Dolly would
+not have it put down.
+
+"Not till Mr. Shubrick comes," she said.
+
+"Why not, my dear? this is threadbare," her aunt pleaded.
+
+"Aunt Hal, I should not like to give the room a strange look. He may
+have associations with this old carpet, for anything I know."
+
+"Men do not have 'associations' with things," said Mrs. Eberstein.
+
+"Some men do, and perhaps he is one of them. At any rate, I want the
+house to look like home to him when he comes. I'll put down the carpet
+afterwards, if he likes it."
+
+"I am afraid you are going to spoil him, Dolly," said Mrs. Eberstein,
+shaking her head. "I hope he is worthy of it all. But don't spoil him!"
+
+"He is much more likely to spoil me, Aunt Hal."
+
+"Spoil _you!_" exclaimed her aunt indignantly. "What do you know about
+it? O Dolly, Dolly! I hope you have got the right man!"
+
+At which, however, Dolly showed all her dimples, and laughed so
+comically that Mrs. Eberstein, right or wrong, was obliged to laugh
+with her.
+
+Mr. Copley had once said a true thing about his daughter; that if she
+married Mr. St. Leger she would be devoted to him. "If"--yes, so she
+would. And being now married to somebody else, Dolly was a very
+incarnation of loyalty to her husband. Alas, many another woman has
+trusted so, on less grounds, and made shipwreck; but Dolly's faith was
+well founded, and there was no shipwreck in store for her.
+
+So the day came when all was in readiness, and the two ladies took a
+satisfied review of their work. It was the day when Mr. Shubrick was
+looked for home. The "Red Chief" had arrived in port; and Sandie had
+written that by the evening of this day he hoped to be at home.
+Everything was in order; fires were lighted; a servant installed below
+stairs; supper prepared; nothing left to be done anywhere. Dolly had
+seen to the supper carefully herself; indeed, for a day or two there
+had been some very thoughtful cooking and baking going on; which Mrs.
+Eberstein had watched with great interest, some amusement, and ever so
+little a bit of jealousy.
+
+"Is Mr. Shubrick a difficult man to please?" she demanded.
+
+"How can I tell?" said Dolly. "I have only seen him in our house, not
+in his own. He did not scold there; but how do I know what he may do
+here?"
+
+"Scold!" repeated Mrs. Eberstein. "Dolly, I believe it would rouse all
+the wickedness there is in me, if anybody should scold _you!_"
+
+Dolly flushed rosily, and then she fairly laughed out.
+
+"I will tell you a secret, Aunt Hal," she said. "I don't mean that in
+this matter, at least, he shall find any occasion."
+
+So the supper was ready, and the table was set, and fires were bright.
+Mrs. Eberstein stayed with Dolly till the evening began to fall, and
+then went back to the inn; averring that she would not for the universe
+be found in Mr. Shubrick's house when he came. Dolly stood at the
+window and watched her aunt's dark figure moving down to the gate, and
+then still stood at the window watching. It was all snow stillness
+outside.
+
+There was a faint moonlight, which glistened on the white ground and
+bare elm branches. A few inches of snow had fallen the day before; the
+sun had thawed the surface slightly, and then it had frozen in a
+glittering smooth crust. It was still outside as only leafless winter
+can be, when there are no wings to flutter, or streams to trickle, or
+chirrup of insects to break the calm. Not a footfall, not a sleigh
+bell; not another light in sight, but only the moon. Anybody in the
+road might have seen another light,--that which came from Dolly's
+windows. She had been hard to suit about her arrangements; she would
+not have candles lit, for she did not wish an illumination that might
+make the interior visible to a chance passer-by; and yet she would not
+have the shutters shut, for the master of the house coming home must
+read his welcome from afar in rays of greeting from the windows. So she
+made up the fires and left the curtains open; and ruddy firelight
+streamed out upon the snow. It was bright enough to have revealed Dolly
+herself, only that the house stood back some distance from the road.
+Dolly watched and listened a while; then crossed the hall to the room
+on the other side, from the windows of which a like glow shone out. The
+fire was in order; the table stood ready. Dolly went back again. It was
+so still outside, as if Sandie never would come. She listened with her
+heart beating hard and fast.
+
+For an hour and a half, perhaps; and then she heard the tinkle of
+sleigh bells. They might be somebody else's. But they came nearer, and
+very near, and stopped; only Dolly heard a mixed jangle of the bells,
+as if the horse had thrown his head up and given a confused shake to
+them all. The next thing was the gate falling to, and a step crunching
+the crisp snow. Then the house door opened with no preliminary knock;
+and somebody was throwing off wraps in the hall.
+
+Dolly had made a step or two forward, and stopped; and when Sandie
+appeared on the threshold, she was standing in the middle of the room,
+as pretty a picture of shy joy as a man need wish to see in his heart
+or his house. If Mrs. Eberstein could have been there and watched his
+greeting of her, the lady's doubts respecting his being "the right man"
+would perhaps have been solved.
+
+But after the first hasty word or two, it was very silent.
+
+"Dolly," Mr. Shubrick said at last. And there he stopped; nothing
+followed.
+
+"What were you going to say?" Dolly whispered.
+
+"So much, that I do not know how to begin. I cannot get hold of the end
+of anything. Are you not going to let me see your eyes? I do not know
+where I am, till I get a look into them."
+
+He smiled a moment after; for, although shyly and fleetingly, the brown
+eyes were lifted for a brief glance to his. What a sweet, tender
+simpleness was in them, and yet what a womanly, thoughtful brow was
+above them; and, yes, Sandie read somewhat else that a man likes to
+read; a fealty of love to him that would never fail. It went to his
+heart. But he saw too that Dolly's colour had left her cheeks, though
+at first they were rosy enough; and in the lines of her face generally
+and the quiver of her lip he could see that the nervous tension was
+somewhat too much. He must lead off to commoner subjects.
+
+"Who is here with you?"
+
+"Nobody."
+
+"You do not mean that you are _alone_ here, Dolly?"
+
+"No. Oh no. I mean, nobody in the house. Aunt Harry and Uncle Ned are
+at Baxter's. Aunt Harry only left me an hour or two ago, when it was
+time to expect you."
+
+"It was very kind of her to leave you!" said Sandie frankly.
+
+"We have been here a fortnight. When I found I could not have mother, I
+wrote to Aunt Hal; and she came."
+
+"What was the matter with your mother?"
+
+Dolly half unwound herself from the arms that held her, and turned her
+face away. She was trying to choke something down that threatened to
+stop her speech.
+
+"Father"----
+
+"What of him?" said Sandie with a grave change of tone.
+
+"I am not sorry," said Dolly. "But, oh! to think that I should not be
+sorry!" She covered her face.
+
+Sandie was silent, waiting and wondering. It could not be Mr. Copley's
+death that was in question; but what then could it be? He waited, to
+let Dolly take her own time. Neither did he have to wait long.
+
+"You remember," she began, still with her face turned away,--"you
+remember what I told you one day in Brierley Park--about father?"
+
+"Certainly I remember."
+
+"You understood me?"
+
+"Yes, I think so."
+
+"Then you knew that I was--very anxious"--Dolly caught her
+breath--"about what might come? Oh, it is not treason for me to talk to
+you about it--now!" cried Dolly.
+
+"It is not treason for you to tell me anything," said Mr. Shubrick,
+drawing her again closer, though Dolly kept her face bent down out of
+his sight. "Treason and you have nothing in common. What is it?"
+
+"I told you, I knew there was no safety," she said, making a quick
+motion of her hand over her eyes. "I hoped things would be better over
+here, away from those people that led him the wrong way; and they
+_were_ better; it was like old times; still I knew there was no safety.
+And now--he is taken care of," she said with a tremble of her lip which
+spoke of strong pain, strongly kept down. "He went to see some new fine
+machinery in somebody's mill. Somehow, by some carelessness, his coat
+got caught in the machinery; and before the works could be stopped his
+leg was--fearfully broken." Dolly spoke with difficulty and making
+great effort to master her agitation. The arms that held her felt how
+she was quivering all over.
+
+"When, Dolly? When did this happen?"
+
+"Soon after we came home. It is six weeks ago now."
+
+"How is your father now?"
+
+"Doing very well; getting cured slowly. But he will never walk again
+without--support. Oh, do you see how I am so sorry and glad together?
+Isn't it dreadful, that I should be glad?"
+
+She looked up now, for she would not distress Mr. Shubrick by giving
+way to the tears which would have been a relief to herself. She looked
+up with such a face! the eyes shining through tears, the mouth
+trembling with a smile; sunshine and rain all in one glitter. "And
+_that_ is the way he has been taken care of!" she said.
+
+Mr. Shubrick stooped his face gently to hers with a mute, caressing
+motion, leaving her time to get rid of those encumbering tears or to
+shed more of them; waiting till the tremor subsided a little. Soon
+Dolly spoke again.
+
+"It has been such a weight on me--oh, such a weight! I could hardly
+bear it sometimes. And now--this is better."
+
+"Yes," he said.
+
+"You had to know of it. I was very sorry!"
+
+"Sorry that I should know?"
+
+"Oh yes, yes! Sorry and ashamed. Sorry for you, too." Dolly's trembling
+was excessive.
+
+"Hush!" said Sandie softly. "What is yours is mine; sorrow and joy
+together. I think I had better go and take up my old office of nurse
+again."
+
+"Oh," said Dolly, starting, and a glad tone coming into her voice,
+"would you? How he would like that!"
+
+"It must have been a little hard for them both to have you come away
+just now. I think we will go and comfort them up, Dolly."
+
+"You are very, very good!" said Dolly, with her eyes glistening, and
+speaking from hearty conviction.
+
+"Whom are you talking to? I have not heard my name yet."
+
+"I have not got accustomed to you yet, you know," Dolly said with a
+little nervous laugh. "Besides,--I never did."
+
+"Never did what?"
+
+"I never called you anything but--Mr. Shubrick."
+
+"Christina did."
+
+"Poor Christina!" said Dolly.
+
+"Why?" said the other merrily. "She is the rich Mrs. St. Leger; why do
+you say 'Poor Christina'?"
+
+"I am afraid I have come between her and happiness," Dolly said,
+blushing frankly.
+
+"You have no occasion to say that," Sandie said, laughing. "She has got
+what she wanted. There was a terrible danger that she might have come
+between _me_ and happiness. But for her--I am not at all sure that she
+would have been happy with me."
+
+"I remember," said Dolly, "she told me one time, she knew she would not
+'_have her head_' so much, if she were once married to you."
+
+"She would not have approved my old house, either," said Sandie
+contentedly, letting Dolly go that he might put up the fire, which had
+tumbled down, after the fashion of wood fires.
+
+"She might have liked it," Dolly answered.
+
+"You do?"
+
+"Oh, very much! Aunt Hal and I think it is charming. And it is full of
+lovely things."
+
+"Wants a new carpet, I should say," said Sandie, eyeing the threadbare
+one under his feet, which Mrs. Eberstein had objected to.
+
+"There!" said Dolly. "Aunt Hal said you would never know what was on
+the floor. I told her she was mistaken."
+
+"What gave her such a poor opinion of my eyesight?"
+
+"Oh, nothing, it was not of your _eyesight_, I don't know, unless she
+thinks that is the way with men in general. Uncle Ned had brought me a
+present of a beautiful new carpet for this room, and Aunt Harry wanted
+me to have it put down; but I wouldn't until I knew whether you would
+like it."
+
+"Whether I would like it!" Sandie repeated, rather opening his eyes. "I
+should think the question was, whether _you_ would like it. I like new
+carpets."
+
+"I did not know but you might have some affection for this old one,"
+said Dolly. "I did not want to change the look of the room before you
+came, so that it would not seem like home. Aunt Harry said I would
+spoil you."
+
+"What did you answer to that?"
+
+"I said it was more likely you would spoil me," said Dolly, dimpling up
+and flushing.
+
+"Do you think I will?" said Sandie, taking her hand and drawing her up
+to him.
+
+Dolly hesitated, flushed and dimpled more, and answered, however, a
+frank "No."
+
+"Why?" was the quick next question.
+
+"You ask too many things," said Dolly. "Don't you want something to
+eat?"
+
+"No, not at all!--Yes."
+
+"I thought so," said Dolly, laughing. "Come, then."
+
+She put her hand in his and led him across the broad hall to the
+dining-room. And during the next hour Sandie might have recurred with
+reason to his late remark; that Christina had been near coming between
+him and happiness. The careless luxury of her way of entertaining him,
+was in strongest contrast to the sweet, thoughtful, delicate
+housewifery of his wife. It was a constant pleasure to watch her.
+Tea-making, in her hands, was a nice art; her fingers were deft to cut
+bread; and whenever the hands approached him, whether it were to give a
+cup of tea or to render some other ministry, it was with an
+indescribable shyness and carefulness at once, which was wholly
+bewitching. Sandie was hungry, no doubt; but his feast was mental that
+night, and exquisite.
+
+
+Meanwhile, he talked. He gave Dolly details of his voyage home, which
+had been stormy; got from her a full account of the weeks since she had
+set foot on American ground; and finally informed her that his having a
+ship was certain, and in the near future.
+
+
+"Poor Christina!" said Dolly.
+
+"Hush!" said he, laughing and drawing her with him back into the other
+room; "you shall not say that again. Would you like to go to
+Washington? The probability is that you will have to go."
+
+"Anywhere," said Dolly.
+
+They stood silently before the fire for a few minutes; then Mr.
+Shubrick turned to her with a change of tone.
+
+"Why did you think I would not spoil you?"
+
+She was held fast, she could not run away; he was bending down to look
+in her face, she could not hide it. Dolly's breath came short. There
+was so much in the tone of his words that stirred her. Besides, the
+answer--what came at last was--
+
+"Sandie, you know you wouldn't!"
+
+"Reasons?"
+
+"Oh!--reasons."
+
+"Yes. I want to know the reasons, Dolly."
+
+In her desperation Dolly looked up, one good glance of her brown eyes;
+then she hid her face. I think Sandie was satisfied, for he asked no
+more.
+
+"Yes," he said presently. "I love you too well, and you love me too
+well. We will try to help each other up; not down. Dolly, I would not
+spoil you for the whole world! and I do not believe I could if I tried."
+
+
+The lady from whom this story comes, remembers having seen Mrs.
+Shubrick when she was a beautiful old lady. Then and all her life she
+wore her cable watch-chain.
+
+
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+Typographical errors silently corrected:
+
+Chapter 1: =if they don't know Him= replaced by =if they don't know him=
+
+Chapter 3: ='The sails are said= replaced by =The sails are said=
+
+Chapter 4: =what strange shapes:= replaced by =what strange shapes;=
+
+Chapter 4: =unschoolgirl-like;= replaced by =unschoolgirl-like,=
+
+Chapter 6: =for calculation,= replaced by =for calculation;=
+
+Chapter 10: =all her beauty she= replaced by =all her beauty, she=
+
+Chapter 10: =pay my gardener.= replaced by =pay my gardener."=
+
+Chapter 11: =old-fashioned flowers showed= replaced by =old-fashioned
+flowers, showed=
+
+Chapter 18: =with it. I should= replaced by =with it, I should=
+
+Chapter 18: =No" said Rupert= replaced by =No," said Rupert=
+
+Chapter 20: =If Lawrence, had= replaced by =If Lawrence had=
+
+Chapter 22: =there by interpreting= replaced by =there, by
+interpreting=
+
+Chapter 22: =to him, Dolly= replaced by =to Him, Dolly=
+
+Chapter 23: =in thee.--I am= replaced by =in thee.'--I am=
+
+Chapter 25: =and he cometh.= replaced by =and he cometh.'=
+
+Chapter 25: ="Though people do= replaced by ="though people do=
+
+Chapter 26: =ways, of private= replaced by =ways of private=
+
+Chapter 28: =hateth you."= replaced by =hateth you.'"=
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The End of a Coil, by Susan Warner
+
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