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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/6850-h.zip b/6850-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8f6d407 --- /dev/null +++ b/6850-h.zip diff --git a/6850-h/6850-h.htm b/6850-h/6850-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1fca6d4 --- /dev/null +++ b/6850-h/6850-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11674 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.1//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml11/DTD/xhtml11.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en"> + +<head> + +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> + +<title> +The Project Gutenberg E-text of Esther: A Book for Girls, by Rosa Nouchette Carey +</title> + +<style type="text/css"> +body { color: black; + background: white; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +p {text-indent: 4% } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +p.t1 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 200%; + text-align: center } + +p.t2 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 150%; + text-align: center } + +p.t3 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + text-align: center } + +p.t3b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t4 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + text-align: center } + +p.t4b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t5 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 60%; + text-align: center } + +h1 { text-align: center } +h2 { text-align: center } +h3 { text-align: center } +h4 { text-align: center } +h5 { text-align: center } + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; } + +p.contents {text-indent: -3%; + margin-left: 5% } + +p.thought {text-indent: 0% ; + letter-spacing: 4em ; + text-align: center } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.footnote {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.transnote {text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.intro {font-size: 90% ; + text-indent: -5% ; + margin-left: 5% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.quote {text-indent: 4% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Esther, by Rosa Nouchette Carey + +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: Esther + A Book for Girls + +Author: Rosa Nouchette Carey + +Posting Date: March 17, 2014 [EBook #6850] +Release Date: November, 2004 +First Posted: February 2, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ESTHER *** + + + + +Produced by Avinash Kothare, Tom Allen, Charles Franks and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. HTML version by +Al Haines. + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1> +<br /><br /><br /> +ESTHER: +<br /> +A BOOK FOR GIRLS. +</h1> + +<p class="t3"> +BY +</p> + +<p class="t2"> +ROSA NOUCHETTE CAREY +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="t3b"> +CONTENTS. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +CHAPTER I. <a href="#chap01">The Last Day at Redmayne House.</a><br /> +CHAPTER II. <a href="#chap02">The Arrival at Combe Manor.</a><br /> +CHAPTER III. <a href="#chap03">Dot.</a><br /> +CHAPTER IV. <a href="#chap04">Uncle Geoffrey.</a><br /> +CHAPTER V. <a href="#chap05">The Old House at Milnthorpe.</a><br /> +CHAPTER VI. <a href="#chap06">The Flitting.</a><br /> +CHAPTER VII. <a href="#chap07">Over the Way.</a><br /> +CHAPTER VIII. <a href="#chap08">Flurry and Flossy.</a><br /> +CHAPTER IX. <a href="#chap09">The Cedars.</a><br /> +CHAPTER X. <a href="#chap10">"I Wish I Had a Dot of My Own."</a><br /> +CHAPTER XI. <a href="#chap11">Miss Ruth's Nurse.</a><br /> +CHAPTER XII. <a href="#chap12">I Was Not Like Other Girls.</a><br /> +CHAPTER XIII. <a href="#chap13">"We Have Missed Dame Bustle."</a><br /> +CHAPTER XIV. <a href="#chap14">Playing in Tom Tidler's Ground.</a><br /> +CHAPTER XV. <a href="#chap15">Life at the Brambles.</a><br /> +CHAPTER XVI. <a href="#chap16">The Smugglers' Cave.</a><br /> +CHAPTER XVII. <a href="#chap17">A Long Night.</a><br /> +CHAPTER XVIII. <a href="#chap18">"You Brave Girl!"</a><br /> +CHAPTER XIX. <a href="#chap19">A Letter from Home.</a><br /> +CHAPTER XX. <a href="#chap20">"You Were Right, Esther."</a><br /> +CHAPTER XXI. <a href="#chap21">Santa Claus.</a><br /> +CHAPTER XXII. <a href="#chap22">Allan and I Walk to Eltham Green.</a><br /> +CHAPTER XXIII. <a href="#chap23">Told in the Sunset.</a><br /> +CHAPTER XXIV. <a href="#chap24">Ringing the Changes.</a><br /> +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="t2"> +ESTHER +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap01"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER I. +</h3> + +<h3> +THE LAST DAY AT REDMAYNE HOUSE. +</h3> + +<p> +What trifles vex one! +</p> + +<p> +I was always sorry that my name was Esther; not that I found fault with +the name itself, but it was too grave, too full of meaning for such an +insignificant person. Some one who was learned in such matters—I think +it was Allan—told me once that it meant a star, or good fortune. +</p> + +<p> +It may be so, but the real meaning lay for me in the marginal note of +my Bible: Esther, fair of form and good in countenance, that Hadassah, +who was brought to the palace of Shushan, the beautiful Jewish queen +who loved and succored her suffering people; truly a bright particular +star among them. +</p> + +<p> +Girls, even the best of them, have their whims and fancies, and I never +looked at myself in the glass on high days and holidays, when a festive +garb was desirable, without a scornful protest, dumbly uttered, against +so shining a name. There was such a choice, and I would rather have +been Deborah or Leah, or even plain Susan, or Molly; anything homely, +that would have suited my dark, low-browed face. Tall and angular, and +hard-featured—what business had I with such a name? +</p> + +<p> +"My dear, beauty is only skin-deep, and common sense is worth its +weight in gold; and you are my good sensible Esther," my mother said +once, when I had hinted rather too strongly at my plainness. Dear soul, +she was anxious to appease the pangs of injured vanity, and was full of +such sweet, balmy speeches; but girls in the ugly duckling stage are +not alive to moral compliments; and, well—perhaps I hoped my mother +might find contradiction possible. +</p> + +<p> +Well, I am older and wiser now, less troublesomely introspective, and +by no means so addicted to taking my internal structure to pieces, to +find out how the motives and feelings work; but all the same, I hold +strongly to diversity of gifts. I believe beauty is a gift, one of the +good things of God; a very special talent, for which the owner must +give account. But enough of this moralizing, for I want to speak of a +certain fine afternoon in the year of our Lord, 18—well, never mind +the date. +</p> + +<p> +It was one of our red-letter days at Redmayne House—in other words, a +whole holiday; we always had a whole holiday on Miss Majoribanks' +birthday. The French governess had made a grand toilette, and had gone +out for the day. Fraulein had retired to her own room, and was writing +a long sentimental effusion to a certain "liebe Anna," who lived at +Heidelberg. As Fraulein had taken several of us into confidence, we had +heard a great deal of this Anna von Hummel, a little round-faced +German, with flaxen plaits and china-blue eyes, like a doll; and Jessie +and I had often wondered at this strong Teutonic attachment. Most of +the girls were playing croquet—they played croquet then—on the square +lawn before the drawing-room windows; the younger ones were swinging in +the lime-walk. Jessie and I had betaken ourselves with our books to a +corner we much affected, where there was a bench under a may-tree. +</p> + +<p> +Jessie was my school friend—chum, I think we called it; she was a +fair, pretty girl, with a thoroughly English face, a neat compact +figure, and manners which every one pronounced charming and lady-like; +her mind was lady-like too, which was the best of all. +</p> + +<p> +Jessie read industriously—her book seemed to rivet her attention; but +I was restless and distrait. The sun was shining on the limes, and the +fresh green leaves seemed to thrill and shiver with life: a lazy breeze +kept up a faint soughing, a white butterfly was hovering over the pink +may, the girls' shrill voices sounded everywhere; a thousand +undeveloped thoughts, vague and unsubstantial as the sunshine above us, +seemed to blend with the sunshine and voices. +</p> + +<p> +"Jessie, do put down your book—I want to talk." Jessie raised her +eyebrows a little quizzically but she was always amiable; she had that +rare unselfishness of giving up her own will ungrudgingly; I think this +was why I loved her so. Her story was interesting, but she put down her +book without a sigh. +</p> + +<p> +"You are always talking, Esther," she said, with a provoking little +smile; "but then," she added, quickly, as though she were afraid that I +should think her unkind, "I never heard other girls talk so well." +</p> + +<p> +"Nonsense," was my hasty response: "don't put me out of temper with +myself. I was indulging in a little bit of philosophy while you were +deep in the 'Daisy Chain.' I was thinking what constituted a great +mind." +</p> + +<p> +Jessie opened her eyes widely, but she did not at once reply; she was +not, strictly speaking, a clever girl, and did not at once grasp any +new idea; our conversations were generally rather one-sided. Emma +Hardy, who was our school wag, once observed that I used Jessie's +brains as an airing-place for my ideas. Certainly Jessie listened more +than she talked, but then, she listened so sweetly. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course, Alfred the Great, and Sir Philip Sidney, and Princess +Elizabeth of France, and all the heroes and heroines of old time—all +the people who did such great things and lived such wonderful +lives—may be said to have had great minds; but I am not thinking about +them. I want to know what makes a great mind, and how one is to get it. +There is Carrie, now, you know how good she is; I think she may be said +to have one." +</p> + +<p> +"Carrie—your sister?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, yes," I returned, a little impatiently; for certainly Jessie +could not think I meant that stupid, peevish little Carrie Steadman, +the dullest girl in the school; and whom else should I mean, but +Carrie, my own dear sister, who was two years older than I, and who was +as good as she was pretty, and who set us all such an example of +unworldliness and self-denial; and Jessie had spent the Christmas +holidays at our house, and had grown to know and love her too; and yet +she could doubt of whom I was speaking; it could not be denied that +Jessie was a little slow. +</p> + +<p> +"Carrie is so good," I went on, when I had cooled a little, "I am sure +she has a great mind. When I read of Mrs. Judson and Elizabeth Fry, or +of any of those grand creatures, I always think of Carrie. How few +girls of nineteen would deprive themselves of half their dress +allowance, that they might devote it to the poor; she has given up +parties because she thinks them frivolous and a waste of time; and +though she plays so beautifully, mother can hardly get her to practice, +because she says it is a pity to devote so much time to a mere +accomplishment, when she might be at school, or reading to poor old +Betty Martin." +</p> + +<p> +"She might do both," put in Jessie, rather timidly; for she never liked +contradicting any of my notions, however far-fetched and ill-assorted +they might be. "Do you know, Esther, I fancy your mother is a little +sorry that Carrie is so unlike other girls; she told me once that she +thought it such a pity that she had let her talents rust after all the +money that had been spent on her education." +</p> + +<p> +"You must have misunderstood my mother," I returned, somewhat loftily; +"I heard her once say to Uncle Geoffrey that she thought Carrie was +almost perfection. You have no idea how much Mr. Arnold thinks of her; +he is always holding her up as his pattern young lady in the parish, +and declares that he should not know what to do without her. She plays +the organ at all the week-day services, and teaches at the Sunday +school, and she has a district now, and a Bible-class for the younger +girls. No wonder she cannot find time to practice, or to keep up her +drawing." And I looked triumphantly at Jessie; but her manner did not +quite please me. She might not be clever, but she had a good solid set +of opinions to which she could hold stoutly enough. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't think me disagreeable, Esther," she pleaded. "I think a great +deal of Carrie; she is very sweet, and pretty, and good, and we should +all be better if we were more like her; but no one is quite faultless, +and I think even Carrie makes mistakes at times." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, of course!" I answered a little crossly, for I could not bear her +finding fault with Carrie, who was such a paragon in my eyes. But +Jessie took no notice of my manner, she was such a wise little +creature; and I cannot help thinking that the less importance we attach +to people's manner the better. Under a little roughness there is often +good stuff, and some good people are singularly unfortunate in manner. +</p> + +<p> +So Jessie went on in her gentle way, "Do you remember Miss Majoribanks' +favorite copy: 'Moderation in all things'? I think this ought to apply +to everything we do. We had an old nurse once, who used to say such +droll things to us children. I remember I had been very good, and done +something very wonderful, as I thought, and nursie said to me in her +dry way, 'Well, Miss Jessie, my dear, duty is not a hedgehog, that you +should be bristling all over in that way. There is no getting at you +to-day, you are too fully armed at all points for praise.' And she +would not say another word; and another time, when I thought I ought to +have been commended; she said, 'Least done is soonest mended; and well +done is not ill done, and that is all about it.' Poor old nurse! she +would never praise any one." +</p> + +<p> +"But, Jessie—how does this apply to Carrie?" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, not very much, I dare say; only I think Carrie overdoes her duty +sometimes. I remember one evening your mother look so disappointed when +Carrie said she was too tired to sing." +</p> + +<p> +"You mean the evening when the Scobells were there, and Carrie had been +doing parish work all the day, and she came in looking so pale and +fagged? I thought mother was hard on her that night. Carrie cried about +it afterward in my room." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Esther, I thought she spoke so gently! She only said, 'Would it +not have been better to have done a little less to-day, and reserved +yourself for our friends? We ought never to disappoint people if we can +help it.'" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes; only mother looked as if she were really displeased; and Carrie +could not bear that; she said in her last letter that mother did not +sympathize entirely in her work, and that she missed me dreadfully, for +the whole atmosphere was rather chilling sometimes." +</p> + +<p> +Jessie looked a little sorry at this. "No one could think that of your +home, Esther." And she sighed, for her home was very different from +ours. Her parents were dead, and as she was an only child, she had +never known the love of brother or sister; and the aunt who brought her +up was a strict narrow-minded sort of person, with manners that must +have been singularly uncongenial to my affectionate, simple-minded +Jessie. Poor Jessie! I could not help giving her one of my bear-like +hugs at this, so well did I know the meaning of that sigh; and there is +no telling into what channel our talk would have drifted, only just at +that moment Belle Martin, the pupil-teacher, appeared in sight, walking +very straight and fast, and carrying her chin in an elevated fashion, a +sort of practical exposition of Madame's "Heads up, young ladies!" But +this was only her way, and Belle was a good creature. +</p> + +<p> +"You are to go in at once, Miss Cameron," she called out, almost before +she reached us. "Miss Majoribanks has sent me to look for you; your +uncle is with her in the drawing-room." +</p> + +<p> +"Uncle Geoffrey? Oh, my dear Uncle Geoff!" I exclaimed, joyfully. "Do +you really mean it, Belle?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Dr. Cameron is in the drawing-room," repeated Belle. But I never +noticed how grave her voice was. She commenced whispering to Jessie +almost before I was a yard away, and I thought I heard an exclamation +in Jessie's voice; but I only said to myself, "Oh, my dear Uncle +Geoff!" in a tone of suppressed ecstasy, and I looked round on the +croquet players as I threaded the lawn with a sense of pity that not +one of them possessed an uncle like mine. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Majoribanks was seated in state, in her well-preserved black satin +gown, with her black gloves reposing in her lap, looking rather like a +feminine mute; but on this occasion I took no notice of her. I actually +forgot my courtesy, and I am afraid I made one of my awkward rushes, +for Miss Majoribanks groaned slightly, though afterward she turned it +into a cough. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, Esther, you are almost a woman now," said my uncle, putting me in +front of him, and laying his heavy hand on my shoulder. "Bless me, how +the child has grown, and how unlike she is to Carrie!" +</p> + +<p> +"I was seventeen yesterday," I answered, pouting a little, for I +understood the reference to Carrie; and was I not the ugly +duckling?—but I would not keep up the sore feeling a minute, I was so +pleased to see him. +</p> + +<p> +No one would call Uncle Geoffrey handsome—oh, dear, no! his features +were too rugged for that; but he had a droll, clever face, and a pair +of honest eyes, and his gray hair was so closely cropped that it looked +like a silver cap. He was a little restless and fidgety in his +movements, too, and had ways that appeared singular to strangers, but I +always regarded his habits respectfully. Clever men, I thought, were +often eccentric; and I was quite angry with my mother when she used to +say, "Geoff was an old bachelor, and he wanted a wife to polish him; I +should like to see any woman dare to marry Uncle Geoff." +</p> + +<p> +"Seventeen, sweet seventeen! Eh, Esther?" but he still held my hand and +looked at me thoughtfully. It was then I first noticed how grave he +looked. +</p> + +<p> +"Have you come from Combe Manor, Uncle Geoff, and are they all quite +well at home?" I asked, rather anxiously, for he seemed decidedly +nervous. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, no," he returned, rather slowly; "I am sorry to spoil your +holiday, child, but I have come by your mother's express desire to +fetch you home. Frank—your father, I mean—is not well, and they will +be glad of your help and—bless me"—Uncle Geoff's favorite +exclamation—"how pale the girl looks!" +</p> + +<p> +"You are keeping something from me—he is very ill—I know he is very +ill!" I exclaimed, passionately. "Oh, uncle, do speak out! he is—" but +I could not finish my sentence, only Uncle Geoffrey understood. +</p> + +<p> +"No, no, it is not so bad as that," putting his arm round me, for I was +trembling and shaking all over; "he is very ill—I dare not deny that +there is much ground for fear; but Esther, we ought to lose no time in +getting away from here. Will you swallow this glass of wine, like a +good, brave child, and then pack up your things as soon as possible?" +</p> + +<p> +There was no resisting Uncle Geoffrey's coaxing voice; all his patients +did what he told them, so I drank the wine, and tried to hurry from the +room, only my knees felt so weak. +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Martin will assist you," whispered Miss Majoribanks, as I passed +her; and, sure enough, as I entered the dormitory, there was Belle +emptying my drawers, with Jessie helping her. Even in my bewildered +state of wretchedness I wondered why Miss Majoribanks thought it +necessary for me to take all my things. Was I bidding good-by to +Redmayne House? +</p> + +<p> +Belle looked very kindly at me as she folded my dresses, but Jessie +came up to me with tears in her eyes. "Oh, Esther!" she whispered, "how +strange to think we were talking as we were, and now the opportunity +has come?" and though her speech was a little vague, I understood it; +she meant the time for me to display my greatness of mind—ah, me! my +greatness of mind—where was it? I was of no use at all; the girls did +it all between them, while I sat on the edge of my little bed and +watched them. They were as quick as possible, and yet it seemed hours +before the box was locked, and Belle had handed me the key; by-and-by, +Miss Majoribanks came and fetched me down, for she said the fly was at +the door, and Dr. Cameron was waiting. +</p> + +<p> +We girls had never cared much for Miss Majoribanks, but nothing could +exceed her kindness then. I think the reason why schoolmistresses are +not often beloved by their pupils—though there certainly are +exceptions to that rule—is that they do not often show their good +hearts. +</p> + +<p> +When Miss Majoribanks buttoned my gloves for me, and smoothed my hair, +and gave me that motherly kiss, I felt I loved her. "God bless you my +dear child! we shall all miss you; you have worked well and been a +credit to the establishment. I am sorry indeed to part with you." +Actually these were Miss Majoribanks' words, and spoken, too, in a +husky voice! +</p> + +<p> +And when I got downstairs, there were all the girls, many of them with +their croquet mallets in their hands, gathered in the front garden, and +little Susie Pierrepoint, the baby of the school, carrying a large +bunch of lavender and sweet-william from her own little garden, which +she thrust into my hands. +</p> + +<p> +"They are for you," cried Susie; and then they all crowded round and +kissed me. +</p> + +<p> +"Good-by, Esther; we are so sorry to lose you; write to us and let us +know how you are." +</p> + +<p> +Jessie's pale little face came last. "Oh, my darling! how I shall be +thinking of you!" cried the affectionate creature; and then I broke +down, and Uncle Geoffrey led me away. +</p> + +<p> +"I am glad to see your school-fellows love you," he said, as we drove +off, and Redmayne House became lost to sight. "Human affection is a +great boon, Esther." +</p> + +<p> +Dear Uncle Geoffrey! he wanted to comfort me; but for some time I would +not speak or listen. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap02"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER II. +</h3> + +<h3> +THE ARRIVAL AT COMBE MANOR. +</h3> + +<p> +The great secret of Uncle Geoffrey's influence with people was a +certain quiet undemonstrative sympathy. He did not talk much; he was +rather given to letting people alone, but his kindliness of look made +his few spoken words more precious than the voluble condolences of +others. +</p> + +<p> +He made no effort to check the torrent of tears that followed my first +stunned feelings; indeed, his "Poor child!" so tenderly uttered, only +made them flow more quickly. It was not until we were seated in the +railway compartment, and I had dried them of my own accord, that he +attempted to rouse me by entering into conversation, and yet there was +much that he knew must be said, only "great haste, small speed," was +always Uncle Geoffrey's favorite motto. "There is time for all things, +and much more," as he used to tell us. +</p> + +<p> +"Are you better now?" he asked, kindly. "That is right; put your +handkerchief away, and we can have a little talk together. You are a +sensible girl, Esther, and have a wise little head on your shoulders. +Tell me, my child, had you any idea of any special anxiety or trouble +that was preying on your father's mind?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, indeed," I returned, astonished. "I knew the farm was doing badly, +and father used to complain now and then of Fred's extravagance, and +mother looked once or twice very worried, but we did not think much +about it." +</p> + +<p> +"Then I am afraid what I am going to tell you will be a great shock," +he returned, gravely. "Your father and mother must have had heavy +anxieties lately, though they have kept it from you children. The cause +of your father's illness is mental trouble. I must not hide from you, +Esther, that he is ruined." +</p> + +<p> +"Ruined!" I tried to repeat the word aloud, but it died on my lips. +</p> + +<p> +"A man with a family ought not to speculate," went on my uncle, +speaking more to himself than me. "What did Frank know about the +business? About as much as Fred does about art. He has spent thousands +on the farm, and it has been a dead loss from the beginning. He knew as +much about farming as Carrie does. Stuff and nonsense! And then he must +needs dabble in shares for Spanish mines; and that new-fangled Wheal +Catherine affair that has gone to smash lately. Every penny gone; and a +wife, and—how many of you are there, Esther?" +</p> + +<p> +But I was too much overwhelmed to help him in his calculation, so he +commenced striking off on his fingers, one by one. +</p> + +<p> +"Let me see; there's Fred, brought up, young coxcomb! to think himself +a fine gentleman and an artist, with almost as much notion of work as I +have of piano playing; and Allan, who has more brains than the rest of +you put together; and Carrie, who is half a saint and slightly +hysterical; and your poor little self; and then comes that nondescript +article Jack. Why in the world do you call a feminine creature Jack? +And poor little Dot, who will never earn a penny for himself—humph, +six of you to clothe and feed—" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Uncle Geoff!" I burst out, taking no notice of this long tirade; +and what did it matter if Dot never earned anything when I would work +my fingers to the bone for him, the darling! "oh, Uncle Geoff, are +things really so bad as that? Will Fred be obliged to give up his +painting, when he has been to Rome, too; and shall we have to leave +Combe Manor, and the farm? Oh, what will they all do? and Carrie, too?" +</p> + +<p> +"Work," was the somewhat grim reply, and then he went on in a milder +tone. "Things are very bad, Esther; about as bad as they can be—for we +must look matters in the face—and your father is very ill, and there +is no knowing where the mischief may end; but you must all put your +shoulders to the domestic wheel, and push it up the Hill Difficulty. It +is a crisis, and a very painful one, but it will prove which of you has +the right mettle. +</p> + +<p> +"I am not afraid of Allan," he went on; "the lad has plenty of good +stuff in him; and I am not much afraid of you, Esther, at least I think +not; but—" He hesitated, and then stopped, and I knew he was thinking +of Fred and Carrie; but he need not. Of course Carrie would work as +heartily as any of us; idling was never her forte; and Fred—well, +perhaps Fred was not always industrious. +</p> + +<p> +I seemed to have lost myself in a perfect tangle of doubt and dread. +Uncle Geoffrey went on with his talk, half sad and half moralizing, but +I could not follow all he said. Two thoughts were buzzing about me like +hornets. Father was ill, very ill, and we should have to leave Combe +Manor. The sting of these thoughts was dreadful. +</p> + +<p> +I seemed to rouse out of a nightmare when Uncle Geoffrey suddenly +announced that we were at Crowbridge. No one was waiting for us at the +station, which somewhat surprised me; but Combe Manor was not a quarter +of a mile off, so the luggage was wheeled away on a truck, and Uncle +Geoffrey and I walked after it, up the sandy lane, and round by the +hazel copse. And there were the fields, where Dapple, the gray mare, +was feeding; and there were Cherry and Spot, and Brindle, and all the +rest of the dear creatures, rubbing their horned heads against the +hedge as usual; and two or three of them standing knee-deep in the +great shallow pool, where Fred and Allan used to sail their boats, and +make believe it was the Atlantic. We always called the little bit of +sedgy ground under the willow America, and used to send freights of +paper and cardboard across the mimic ocean, which did not always arrive +safely. +</p> + +<p> +How lovely and peaceful it all looked on this June evening! The sun +shone on the red brick house and old-fashioned casements; roses were +climbing everywhere, on the walls, round the porch, over the very +gateway. Fred was leaning against the gate, in his brown velveteen coat +and slouched hat, looking so handsome and picturesque, poor fellow! He +had a Gloire de Dijon in his button-hole. I remember I wondered vaguely +how he had had the heart to pick it. +</p> + +<p> +"How is he?" called out Uncle Geoffrey. And Fred started, for though he +was watching for us he had not seen us turn the corner of the lane. +</p> + +<p> +"No better," was the disconsolate answer, as he unlatched the gate, and +stooped over it to kiss me. "We are expecting Allan down by the next +train, and Carrie asked me to look out for you; how do you do, Esther? +What have you done to yourself?" eyeing me with a mixture of chagrin +and astonishment. I suppose crying had not improved my appearance; +still, Fred need not have noticed my red eyes; but he was one who +always "looked on the outward appearance." +</p> + +<p> +"She is tired and unhappy, poor little thing," repeated Uncle Geoffrey, +answering for me, as he drew my arm through his. "I hope Carrie has got +some tea for her;" and as he spoke Carrie came out in the porch to meet +us. How sweet she looked, the "little nun," as Fred always called her, +in her gray dress; with her smooth fair hair and pale pretty face. +</p> + +<p> +"Poor Esther, how tired you look!" she said, kissing me affectionately, +but quietly—Carrie was always a little undemonstrative—"but I have +got tea for you in the brown room" (we always called it the brown room, +because it was wainscoted in oak); "will you have it now, or would you +like to see mother?" +</p> + +<p> +"You had better have tea first and see your mother afterward," observed +Uncle Geoffrey; but I would not take this prudent counsel. On the +stairs I came upon Jack, curled up on a window-sill, with Smudge, our +old black cat, in her arms, and was welcomed by both of them with much +effusion. Jack was a tall, thin girl, all legs and arms, with a droll, +freckled face and round blue eyes, with all the awkwardness of +fourteen, and none of its precocity. Her real name was Jacqueline, but +we had always called her Jack, for brevity, and because, with her +cropped head and rough ways, she resembled a boy more than a girl; her +hair was growing now, and hung about her neck in short ungainly +lengths, but I doubt whether in its present stage it was any +improvement. I am not at all sure strangers considered Jack a +prepossessing child, she was so awkward and overgrown, but I liked her +droll face immensely. Fred was always finding fault with her and +snubbing her, which brought him nothing but pert replies; then he would +entreat mother to send her to school, but somehow she never went. Dot +could not spare her, and mother thought there was plenty of time, so +Jack still roamed about at her own sweet will; riding Dapple barebacked +round the paddock, milking Cherry, and feeding the chickens; carrying +on some pretense at lessons with Carrie, who was not a very strict +mistress, and plaguing Fred, who had nice ways and hated any form of +untidiness. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, you dear thing!" cried Jack, leaping from the window-seat and +nearly strangling me, while Smudge rubbed himself lovingly against my +dress; "oh, you dear, darling, delightful old Esther, how pleased I am +to see you!" (Certainly Jack was not undemonstrative.) "Oh, it has been +so horrid the last few days—father ill, and mother always with him, +and Fred as cross as two sticks, and Carrie always too busy or too +tired for any one to speak to her; and Dot complaining of pain in his +back and not caring to play, oh!" finished Jack, with a long-drawn +sigh, "it has been almost too horrid." +</p> + +<p> +"Hush, Jack," was my sole reply; for there was dear mother coming down +the passage toward us. I had only been away from her two months, and +yet it struck me that her hair was grayer and her face was thinner than +it used to be, and there were lines on her forehead that I never +remember to have seen before; but she greeted me in her old +affectionate way, putting back my hair from my face to look at me, and +calling me her dear child. "But I must not stop a moment, Esther," she +said hurriedly, "or father will miss me; take off your hat, and rest +and refresh yourself, and then you shall come up and see him." +</p> + +<p> +"But, mother, where is Dot?" +</p> + +<p> +"In there," motioning toward the sick room; "he is always there, we +cannot keep him out," and her lip trembled. When Jack and I returned to +the brown room, we found the others gathered round the table. Carrie, +who was pouring out the tea, pointed to the seat beside her. +</p> + +<p> +It was the first dreary meal I had ever remembered in the brown room; +my first evening at home had always been so happy. The shallow blue +teacups and tiny plates always seemed prettier than other people's +china, and nothing ever tasted so delicious as our home-made brown +bread and butter. +</p> + +<p> +But this evening the flavor seemed spoiled. Carrie sat in mother's +place looking sad and abstracted, and fingering her little silver cross +nervously. Fred was downcast and out of spirits, returning only brief +replies to Uncle Geoffrey's questions, and only waking up to snub Jack +if she spoke a word. Oh, how I wished Allan would make his appearance +and put us all right! It was quite a relief when I heard mother's voice +calling me, and she took me into the great cool room where father lay. +</p> + +<p> +Dot was curled up in mother's great arm-chair, with his favorite book +of natural history; he slipped a hot little hand in mine as I passed +him. +</p> + +<p> +Dot was our name for him because he was so little, but he had been +called Frank, after our father; he was eight years old, but he hardly +looked bigger than a child of six. His poor back was crooked, and he +was lame from hip-disease; sometimes for weeks together the cruel +abscesses wasted his strength, at other times he was tolerably free +from pain; even at his worst times Dot was a cheery invalid, for he was +a bright, patient little fellow. He had a beautiful little face, too, +though perhaps the eyes were a trifle too large for the thin features; +but Dot was my pet, and I could see no fault in him; nothing angered me +more than when people pitied him or lamented over his infirmity. When I +first came home the sound of his crutch on the floor was the sweetest +music in my ear. But I had no eyes even for Dot after my first look at +father. Oh, how changed, how terribly changed he was! The great wave of +brown hair over his forehead was gray, his features were pinched and +haggard, and when he spoke to me his voice was different, and he seemed +hardly able to articulate. +</p> + +<p> +"Poor children—poor children!" he groaned; and as I kissed his cheek +he said, "Be a good girl, Esther, and try to be a comfort to your +mother." +</p> + +<p> +"When I am a man I shall try and be a comfort too," cried Dot, in his +sharp chirpy voice; it quite startled father. +</p> + +<p> +"That's my brave boy," said father, faintly, and I think there were +tears in his eyes. "Dora"—my mother's name was Dora—"I am too tired +to talk; let the children go now, and come and sit by me while I go to +sleep;" and mother gently dismissed us. +</p> + +<p> +I had rather a difficulty with Dot when I got outside, for he suddenly +lowered his crutch and sat down on the floor. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't want to go to bed," he announced, decidedly. "I shall sit here +all night, in case mother wants me; when it gets dark she may feel +lonely." +</p> + +<p> +"But, Dot, mother will be grieved if she comes out and finds you here; +she has anxiety enough as it is; and if you make yourself ill, too, you +will only add to her trouble. Come, be a good boy, and let me help you +to undress." But I might as well have talked to Smudge. Dot had these +obstinate fits at times; he was tired, and his nerves were shaken by +being so many hours in the sick room, and nothing would have induced +him to move. I was so tired at last that I sat down on the floor, too, +and rested my head against the door, and Dot sat bolt upright like a +watchful little dog, and in this ridiculous position we were discovered +by Allan. I had not heard of his arrival; and when he came toward us, +springing lightly up two stairs at a time, I could not help uttering a +suppressed exclamation of delight. +</p> + +<p> +He stopped at once and looked at us in astonishment. "Dot and Esther! +in the name of all that is mysterious; huddled up like two Chinese gods +on the matting. Why, I took Esther for a heap of clothes in the +twilight." Of course I told him how it happened. Dot was naughty and +would not move, and I was keeping him company. Allan hardly heard me +out before he had shouldered Dot, crutch and all, and was walking off +with him down the passage. "Wait for me a few minutes, Esther," he +whispered; and I betook myself to the window-seat and looked over the +dusky garden, where the tall white lilies looked like ghostly flowers +in the gloom. +</p> + +<p> +It was a long time before Allan rejoined me. "That is a curious little +body," he said, half laughing, as he sat down beside me. "I had quite a +piece of work with him for carrying him off in that fashion; he said 'I +was a savage, a great uncivilized man, to take such a mean advantage of +him; If I were big I would fight you,' he said, doubling his fists; he +looked such a miserable little atom of a chap as he said it." +</p> + +<p> +"Was he really angry?" I asked, for Dot was so seldom out of temper. +</p> + +<p> +"Angry, I believe you. He was in a towering rage; but he is all right +now, so you need not go to him. I stroked him down, and praised him for +his good intentions, and then I told him I was a doctor now, and no one +contradicted my orders, and that he must be a good boy and let me help +him to bed. Poor little fellow; he sobbed all the time he was +undressing, he is so fond of father. I am afraid it will go badly with +him if things turn out as I fear they will," and Allan's voice was very +grave. +</p> + +<p> +We had a long talk after that, until Uncle Geoffrey came upstairs and +dislodged us, by carrying Allan off. It was such a comfort to have him +all to myself; we had been so much separated of late years. +</p> + +<p> +Allan was five years older than I; he was only a year younger than +Fred, but the difference between them was very great. Allan looked the +elder of the two; he was not so tall as Fred, but he was strongly built +and sturdy; he was dark-complexioned, and his features were almost as +irregular as mine; but in a man that did not so much matter, and very +few people called Allan plain. +</p> + +<p> +Allan had always been my special brother—most sisters know what I mean +by that term. Allan was undemonstrative; he seldom petted or made much +of me, but a word from him was worth a hundred from Fred; and there was +a quiet unspoken sympathy between us that was sufficiently palpable. If +Allan wanted his gloves mended he always came to me, and not to Carrie. +I was his chief correspondent, and he made me the confidante of his +professional hopes and fears. In return, he good-humoredly interested +himself in my studies, directed my reading, and considered himself at +liberty to find fault with everything that did not please him. He was a +little peremptory sometimes, but I did not mind that half so much as +Fred's sarcasms; and he never distressed me as Fred did, by laughing at +my large hands, or wondering why I was not so natty in my dress as +Carrie. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap03"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER III. +</h3> + +<h3> +DOT. +</h3> + +<p> +I went to my room to unpack my things, and by-and-by Carrie joined me. +</p> + +<p> +I half hoped that she meant to help me, but she sat down by the window +and said, with a sigh, how tired she was; and certainly her eyes had a +weary look. +</p> + +<p> +She watched me for some time in silence, but once or twice she sighed +very heavily. +</p> + +<p> +"I wish you could leave those things, Esther," she said, at last, not +pettishly—Carrie was never pettish—but a little too plaintively. "I +have not had a creature to whom I could talk since you left home in +April." +</p> + +<p> +The implied compliment was very nice, but I did not half like leaving +my things—I was rather old-maidish in my ways, and never liked half +measures; but I remembered reading once about "the lust of finishing," +and what a test of unselfishness it was to put by a half-completed task +cheerfully at the call of another duty. Perhaps it was my duty to leave +my unpacking and listen to Carrie, but there was one little point in +her speech that did not please me. +</p> + +<p> +"You could talk to mother," I objected; for mother always listened to +one so nicely. +</p> + +<p> +"I tried it once, but mother did not understand," sighed Carrie. I used +to wish she did not sigh so much. "We had quite an argument, but I saw +it was no use—that I should never bring her to my way of thinking. She +was brought up so differently; girls were allowed so little liberty +then. My notions seemed to distress her. She said that I was peculiar, +and that I carried things too far, and that she wished I were more like +other girls; and then she kissed me, and said I was very good, and she +did not mean to hurt me; but she thought home had the first claim; and +so on. You know mother's way." +</p> + +<p> +"I think mother was right there—you think so yourself, do you not +Carrie?" I asked anxiously, for this seemed to me the A B C of common +sense. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, of course," rather hastily. "Charity begins at home, but it ought +not to stop there. If I chose to waste my time practicing for Fred's +violin, and attending to all his thousand and one fads and fancies, +what would become of all my parish work? You should have heard Mr. +Arnold's sermon last Sunday, Esther; he spoke of the misery and poverty +and ignorance that lay around us outside our homes, and of the +loiterers and idlers within those homes." And Carrie's eyes looked sad +and serious. +</p> + +<p> +"That is true," I returned, and then I stopped, and Jessie's words came +to my mind, "Even Carrie makes mistakes at times." For the first time +in my life the thought crossed me; in my absence would it not have been +better for Carrie to have been a little more at home? It was Jessie's +words and mother's careworn face that put the thought into my head; but +the next moment I had dismissed it as heresy. My good, unselfish +Carrie, it was impossible that she could make mistakes! Carrie's next +speech chimed in well with my unspoken thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +"Home duties come first, of course, Esther—no one in their senses +could deny such a thing; but we must be on our guard against +make-believe duties. It is my duty to help mother by teaching Jack, and +I give her two hours every morning; but when Fred comes into the +schoolroom with some nonsensical request that would rob me of an hour +or so, I am quite right not to give way to him. Do you think," warming +into enthusiasm over her subject, "that Fred's violin playing ought to +stand in the way of any real work that will benefit souls as well as +bodies—that will help to reclaim ignorance and teach virtue?" And +Carrie's beautiful eyes grew dark and dewy with feeling. I wish mother +could have seen her; something in her expression reminded me of a +picture of Faith I had once seen. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Esther," she continued, for I was too moved to answer her, "every +day I live I long to give myself more entirely to benefiting my fellow +creatures. Girl as I am, I mean to join the grand army of workers—that +is what Mr. Arnold called them. Oh, how I wish I could remember all he +said! He told us not to be disheartened by petty difficulties, or to +feel lonely because, perhaps, those who were our nearest and dearest +discouraged our efforts or put obstacles in our way. 'You think you are +alone,' he said, 'when you are one of the rank and file in that +glorious battalion. There are thousands working with you and around +you, although you cannot see them.' And then he exhorted us who were +young to enter this crusade." +</p> + +<p> +"But, Carrie," I interrupted, somewhat mournfully, for I was tired and +a little depressed, "I am afraid our work is already cut out for us, +and we shall have to do it however little pleased we may be with the +pattern. From what Uncle Geoffrey tells me, we shall be very poor." +</p> + +<p> +"I am not afraid of poverty, Esther." +</p> + +<p> +"But still you will be grieved to leave Combe Manor," I persisted. +"Perhaps we shall have to live in a little pokey house somewhere, and +to go out as governesses." +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps so," she answered, serenely; "but I shall still find time for +higher duties. I shall be a miser, and treasure all my minutes. But I +have wasted nearly half-an-hour now; but it is such a luxury to talk to +somebody who can understand." And then she kissed me affectionately and +bade me hasten to bed, for it was getting late, and I looked sadly +tired; but it never entered into her head to help me put away the +clothes that strewed my room, though I was aching in every limb from +grief and fatigue. If one looks up too much at the clouds one stumbles +against rough stones sometimes. Star gazing is very sweet and +elevating, but it is as well sometimes to pick up the homely flowers +that grow round our feet. "What does Carrie mean by higher duties?" I +grumbled, as I sought wearily to evoke order out of chaos. "To work for +one's family is as much a duty as visiting the poor." I could not solve +the problem; Carrie was too vague for me there; but I went to bed at +last, and dreamed that we two were building houses on the seashore. +Carrie's was the prettier, for it was all of sea-weed and +bright-colored shells that looked as though the sun were shining on +them, while mine was made of clay, tempered by mortar. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Carrie, I like yours best" I cried, disconsolately; yet as I spoke +a long tidal wave came up and washed the frail building away. But +though mine filled with foamy water, the rough walls remained entire, +and then I looked at it again the receding wave had strewn its floors +with small shining pearls. +</p> + +<p> +I must pass over the record of the next few days, for they were so +sad—so sad, even now, I cannot think of them without tears. On the +second day after my return, dear father had another attack, and before +many hours were over we knew we were orphans. +</p> + +<p> +Two things stood out most prominently during that terrible week; dear +mother's exceeding patience and Dot's despair. Mother gave us little +trouble. She lay on her couch weeping silently, but no word of +complaint or rebellion crossed her lips; she liked us to sit beside her +and read her soothing passages of Scripture, and she was very +thoughtful and full of pity for us all. Her health was never very good, +and just now her strength had given way utterly. Uncle Geoffrey would +not hear of her exerting herself, and, indeed, she looked so frail and +broken that even Fred got alarmed about her. +</p> + +<p> +Carrie was her principal companion, for Dot took all my attention; and, +indeed, it nearly broke our hearts to see him. +</p> + +<p> +Uncle Geoffrey had carried him from the room when father's last attack +had come on. Jack was left in charge of him, and the rest of us were +gathered in the sick room. I was the first to leave when all was over, +for I thought of Dot and trembled; but as I opened the door there he +was, crouched down in a little heap at the entrance, with Jack sobbing +beside him. +</p> + +<p> +"I took away his crutch, but he crawled all the way on his hands and +knees," whispered Jack; and then Allan came out and stood beside me. +</p> + +<p> +"Poor little fellow!" he muttered; and Dot lifted his miserable little +white face, and held out his arms. +</p> + +<p> +"Take me in," he implored. "Father's dead, for I heard you all crying; +but I must kiss him once more." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't think it will hurt him," observed Allan, in a low voice. "He +will only imagine all sorts of horrors—and he looks so peaceful," +motioning toward the closed door. +</p> + +<p> +"I will be so good," implored the poor child, "if you only take me in." +And Allan, unable to resist any longer, lifted him in his arms. +</p> + +<p> +I did not go in, for I could not have borne it. Carrie told me +afterward that Allan cried like a child when Dot nestled up to the dead +face and began kissing and stroking it. +</p> + +<p> +"You are my own father, though you look so different," he whispered. "I +wish you were not so cold. I wish you could look and speak to me—I am +your little boy Dot—you were always so fond of Dot, father. Let me go +with you; I don't want to live any longer without you," and so on, +until Uncle Geoffrey made Allan take him away. +</p> + +<p> +Oh, how good Allan was to him! He lay down by his side all night, +soothing him and talking to him, for Dot never slept. The next day we +took turns to be with him, and so on day after day; but I think Dot +liked Allan best. +</p> + +<p> +"He is most like father," he said once, which, perhaps, explained the +preference; but then Allan had so much tact and gentleness. Fred did +not understand him at all; he called him odd and uncanny, which +displeased us both. +</p> + +<p> +One evening I had been reading to mother, and afterward I went up to +Dot. He had been very feverish and had suffered much all day, and Allan +had scarcely left him; but toward evening he had grown quieter. I found +Jack beside him; they were making up garlands for the grave; it was +Dot's only occupation just now. +</p> + +<p> +"Look here, Essie," he cried, eagerly. "Is not this a splendid wreath? +We are making it all of pansies—they were father's favorite flowers. +He always called them floral butterflies. Fancy a wreath of +butterflies!" and Dot gave a weak little laugh. It was a very ghost of +a laugh, but it was his first, and I hailed it joyfully. I praised the +quaint stiff wreath. In its way it was picturesque. The rich hues of +the pansies blended well—violet and gold; it was a pretty idea, laying +heartsease on the breast that would never know anxiety again. +</p> + +<p> +"When I get better," continued Dot, "I am going to make such a +beautiful little garden by dear father. Jack and I have been planning +it. We are going to have rose-trees and lilies of the valley and sweet +peas—father was so fond of sweet peas; and in the spring snowdrops and +crocuses and violets. Allan says I may do it." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, surely, Dot." +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder what father is doing now?" he exclaimed, suddenly, putting by +the unfinished wreath a little wearily. "I think the worst of people +dying is that we cannot find out what they are doing," and his eyes +grew large and wistful. Alas! Dot, herein lies the sting of +death—silence so insupportable and unbroken! +</p> + +<p> +"Shall I read you your favorite chapter?" I asked, softly; for every +day Dot made us read to him the description of that City with its +golden streets and gem-built walls; but he shook his head, +</p> + +<p> +"It glitters too much for my head to-night," he said, quaintly; "it is +too bright and shining. I would rather think of dear father walking in +those green pastures, with all the good people who have died. It must +be very beautiful there, Esther. But I think father would be happier if +I were with him." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Dot, no!" for the bare idea pained me; and I felt I must argue +this notion away. "Allan and I could not spare you, or mother either; +and there's Jack—what would poor Jack do without her playfellow?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't feel I shall ever play again," said Dot, leaning his chin on +his mites of hands and peering at us in his shrewd way. "Jack is a +girl, and she cannot understand; but when one is only a Dot, and has an +ugly crutch and a back that never leaves off aching, and a father that +has gone to heaven, one does not care to be left behind." +</p> + +<p> +"But you are not thinking of us, Dot, and how unhappy it would make us +to lose you too," I returned. And now the tears would come one by one; +Dot saw them, and wiped them off with his sleeve. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't be silly, Esther," he said, in a coaxing little voice. "I am not +going yet. Allan says I may live to be a man. He said so last night; +and then he told me he was afraid we should be very poor; and that made +me sorry, for I knew I should never be able to work, with my poor back." +</p> + +<p> +"But Allan and I will work for you, my darling," I exclaimed, throwing +my arms round him; "only you must not leave us, Dot, even for father;" +and as I said this I began to sob bitterly. I was terribly ashamed of +myself when Allan came in and discovered me in the act; and there was +Jack keeping me company, and frowning away her tears dreadfully. +</p> + +<p> +I thought Allan would have scolded us all round; but no, he did nothing +of the kind. He patted Jack's wet cheeks and laughed at the hole in her +handkerchief; and he then seated himself on the bed, and asked me very +gently what was the matter with us all. Dot was spokesman: he stated +the facts of the case rather lugubriously and in a slightly injured +voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Esther is crying because she is selfish, and I am afraid I am selfish +too." +</p> + +<p> +"Most likely," returned Allan, dryly; "it is a human failing. What is +the case in point, Frankie?" +</p> + +<p> +Allan was the only one of us who ever called Dot by his proper name. +</p> + +<p> +"I should not mind growing up to be a man," replied Dot, fencing a +little, "if I were big and strong like you," taking hold of the huge +sinewy hand. "I could work then for mother and the girls; but now you +will be always obliged to take care of me, and so—and so—" and here +Dot's lips quivered a little, "I would rather go with dear father, if +Esther would not cry about it so." +</p> + +<p> +"No, no, you must stay with us, Sonny," returned Allan, cheerily. +"Esther and I are not going to give you up so easily. Why, look here, +Frankie; I will tell you a secret. One of these days I mean to have a +nice little house of my own, and Esther and you shall come and live +with me, and I will go among my patients all the morning, and in the +evening I shall come home very lazy and tired, and Esther shall fetch +me my slippers and light the lamp, and I shall get my books, and you +will have your drawing, and Esther will mend our clothes, and we shall +be as cozy as possible." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, yes," exclaimed Dot, clapping his hands. The snug picture had +fascinated his childish fancy; Allan's fireside had obscured the lights +of paradise. From this time this imaginary home of Allan's became his +favorite castle in the air. When we were together he would often talk +of it as though it were reality. We had planted the garden and +furnished the parlor a dozen times over before the year was out; and so +strong is a settled imagination that I am almost sure Dot believed that +somewhere there existed the little white cottage with the porch covered +with honeysuckle, and the low bay-window with the great pots of +flowering plants, beside which Dot's couch was to stand. +</p> + +<p> +I don't think Jack enjoyed these talks so much as Dot and I did, as we +made no room for her in our castle-building. +</p> + +<p> +"You must not live with us, Jack," Dot would say, very gravely; "you +are only a girl, and we don't want girls"—what was I, I wonder?—"but +you shall come and see us once a week, and Esther will give you brown +bread and honey out of our beehives; for we had arranged there must be +a row of beehives under a southern wall where peaches were to grow; and +as for white lilies, we were to have dozens of them. Dear, dear, how +harmless all these fancies were, and yet they kept us cheerful and +warded off many an hour of depression from pain when Dot's back was +bad. I remember one more thing that Allan said that night, when we were +all better and more cheerful, for it was rather a grave speech for a +young man; but then Allan had these fits of gravity. +</p> + +<p> +"Never mind thinking if you will grow up to be a man, Dot. Wishing +won't help us to die an hour sooner, and the longest life must have an +end some day. What we have to do is to take up our life, and do the +best we can with it while it lasts, and to be kind and patient, and +help one another. Most likely Esther and I will have to work hard +enough all our lives—we shall work, and you may have to suffer; but we +cannot do without you any more than you can do without us. There, +Frankie!" +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap04"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER IV. +</h3> + +<h3> +UNCLE GEOFFREY. +</h3> + +<p> +The day after the funeral Uncle Geoffrey held a family council, at +which we were all present, except mother and Dot; he preferred talking +to her alone afterward. +</p> + +<p> +Oh, what changes! what incredible changes! We must leave Combe Manor at +once. With the exception of a few hundred pounds that had been mother's +portion, the only dowry that her good old father, a naval captain, had +been able to give her, we were literally penniless. The boys were not +able to help us much. Allan was only a house-surgeon in one of the +London hospitals; and Fred, who called himself an artist, had never +earned a penny. He was a fair copyist, and talked the ordinary art +jargon, and went about all day in his brown velveteen coat, and wore +his hair rather long; but we never saw much result from his Roman +studies; latterly he had somewhat neglected his painting, and had taken +to violin playing and musical composition. Uncle Geoffrey used to shake +his head and say he was "Jack of all trades and master of none," which +was not far from the mark. There was a great deal of talk between the +three, before anything was settled. +</p> + +<p> +Fred was terribly aggravating to Uncle Geoffrey, I could see; but then +he was so miserable, poor fellow; he would not look at things in their +proper light, and he had a way with him as though he thought Uncle +Geoffrey was putting upon him. The discussion grew very warm at last, +for Allan sided with Uncle Geoffrey, and then Fred said every one was +against him. It struck me Uncle Geoffrey pooh-poohed Fred's whim of +being an artist; he wanted him to go into an office; there was a vacant +berth he could secure by speaking to an old friend of his, who was in a +China tea-house, a most respectable money-making firm, and Fred would +have a salary at once, with good prospects of rising; but Fred +passionately scouted the notion. He would rather enlist; he would +drown, or hang himself sooner. There were no end of naughty things he +said; only Carrie cried and begged him not to be so wicked, and that +checked him. +</p> + +<p> +Uncle Geoffrey lost his patience at last, and very nearly told him he +was an idiot, to his face; but Fred looked so handsome and miserable, +that he relented; and at last it was arranged that Fred was to take a +hundred pounds of mother's money—she would have given him the whole if +she could, poor dear—and take cheap rooms in London, and try how he +could get on by teaching drawing and taking copying orders. +</p> + +<p> +"Remember, Fred," continued Uncle Geoffrey, rather sternly, "you are +taking a sixth part of your mother's entire income; all that she has +for herself and these girls; if you squander it rashly, you will be +robbing the widow and the fatherless. You have scouted my well-meant +advice, and Allan's"—he went on—"and are marking out your own path in +life very foolishly, as we think; remember, you have only yourself to +blame, if you make that life a failure. Artists are of the same stuff +as other men, and ought to be sober, steady, and persevering; without +patience and effort you cannot succeed." +</p> + +<p> +"When my picture is accepted by the hanging committee, you and Allan +will repent your sneers," answered Fred, bitterly. +</p> + +<p> +"We do not sneer, my boy," returned Uncle Geoffrey, more mildly—for he +remembered Fred's father had only been dead a week—"we are only +doubtful of the wisdom of your choice; but there, work hard at your +daubs, and keep out of debt and bad company, and you may yet triumph +over your cranky old uncle." And so the matter was amicably settled. +</p> + +<p> +Allan's arrangements were far more simple. He was to leave the hospital +in another year, and become Uncle Geoffrey's assistant, with a view to +partnership. It was not quite Allan's taste, a practice in a sleepy +country town; but, as he remarked rather curtly, "beggars must not be +choosers," and he would as soon work under Uncle Geoffrey as any other +man. I think Allan was rather ambitious in his secret views. He wanted +to remain longer at the hospital and get into a London practice; he +would have liked to have been higher up the tree than Uncle Geoffrey, +who was quite content with his quiet position at Milnthorpe. But the +most astonishing part of the domestic programme was, that we were all +going to live with Uncle Geoffrey. I could scarcely believe my ears +when I heard it, and Carrie was just as surprised. Could any of us +credit such unselfish generosity? He had not prepared us for it in the +least. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, girls, you must just pack up your things, you, and the mother, +and Dot; of course we must take Dot, and you must manage to shake +yourselves down in the old house at Milnthorpe"—that is how he put it; +"it is not so big as Combe Manor, and I daresay we shall be rather a +tight fit when Allan comes; but the more the merrier, eh, Jack?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Uncle Geoff, do you mean it?" gasped Jack, growing scarlet; but +Carrie and I could not speak for surprise. +</p> + +<p> +"Mean it! Of course. What is the good of being a bachelor uncle, if one +is not to be tyrannized over by an army of nephews and nieces? Do you +think the plan will answer, Esther?" he said, rather more seriously. +</p> + +<p> +"If you and Deborah do not mind it, Uncle Geoffrey, I am sure it ought +to answer; but we shall crowd you, and put you and Deborah to sad +inconvenience, I am afraid;" for I was half afraid of Deborah, who had +lived with Uncle Geoffrey for five-and-twenty years, and was used to +her own ways, and not over fond of young people. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall not ask Deb's opinion," he answered, rather roguishly; "we +must smooth her down afterward, eh, girls? Seriously, Allan, I think it +is the best plan under the circumstances. I am not fond of being +alone," and here Uncle Geoffrey gave a quick sigh. Poor Uncle Geoff! he +had never meant to be an old bachelor, only She died while he was +furnishing the old house at Milnthorpe, and he never could fix his mind +on any one else. +</p> + +<p> +"I like young folks about me," he continued, cheerfully. "When I get +old and rheumatic, I can keep Dot company, and Jack can wait on us +both. Of course I am not a rich man, children, and we must all help to +keep the kettle boiling; but the house is my own, and you can all +shelter in it if you like; it will save house-rent and taxes, at any +rate for the present." +</p> + +<p> +"Carrie and I will work," I replied, eagerly; for, though Uncle +Geoffrey was not a poor man, he was very far from being rich, and he +could not possibly afford to keep us all. A third of his income went to +poor Aunt Prue, who had married foolishly, and was now a widow with a +large family. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Prue would have been penniless, only father and Uncle Geoff agreed +to allow her a fixed maintenance. As Uncle Geoff explained to us +afterward, she would now lose half her income. +</p> + +<p> +"There are eight children, and two or three of them are very delicate, +and take after their father. I have been thinking about it all, +Esther," he said, when Allan and I were alone with him, "and I have +made up my mind that I must allow her another hundred a year. Poor +soul, she works hard at that school-keeping of hers, and none of the +children are old enough to help her except Lawrence, and he is going +into a decline, the doctors say. I am afraid we shall have to pinch a +bit, unless you and Carrie get some teaching." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Uncle Geoff, of course we shall work; and Jack, too, when she is +old enough." Could he think we should be a burden on him, when we were +all young and strong? +</p> + +<p> +I had forgotten poor Aunt Prue, who lived a long way off, and whom we +saw but seldom. She was a pretty, subdued little woman, who always wore +shabby black gowns; I never saw her in a good dress in my life. Well, +we were as poor as Aunt Prue now, and I wondered if we should make such +a gallant fight against misfortune as she did. +</p> + +<p> +We arranged matters after that—Allan and Uncle Geoff and I; for Carrie +had gone to sit with mother, and Fred had strolled off somewhere. They +wanted me to try my hand at housekeeping; at least, until mother was +stronger and more able to bear things. +</p> + +<p> +"Carrie hates it, and you have a good head for accounts," Allan +observed, quietly. It seemed rather strange that they should make me +take the head, when Carrie was two years older, and a week ago I was +only a schoolgirl; but I felt they were right, for I liked planning and +contriving, and Carrie detested anything she called domestic drudgery. +</p> + +<p> +We considered ways and means after that. Uncle Geoffrey told us the +exact amount of his income, He had always lived very comfortably, but +when he had deducted the extra allowance for poor Aunt Prue, we saw +clearly that there was not enough for so large a party; but at the +first hint of this from Allan Uncle Geoffrey got quite warm and eager. +Dear, generous Uncle Geoff! he was determined to share his last crust +with his dead brother's widow and children. +</p> + +<p> +"Nonsense, fiddlesticks!" he kept on saying; "what do I want with +luxuries? Ask Deborah if I care what I eat and drink; we shall do very +well, if you and Esther are not so faint-hearted." And when we found +out how our protests seemed to hurt him, we let him have his own way; +only Allan and I exchanged looks, which said as plainly as looks could, +"Is he not the best uncle that ever lived, and will we not work our +hardest to help him?" +</p> + +<p> +I had a long talk with Carrie that night; she was very submissive and +very sad, and seemed rather downhearted over things. She was quite as +grateful for Uncle Geoff's generosity as we were, but I could see the +notion of being a governess distressed her greatly. "I am very glad you +will undertake the housekeeping, Esther," she said, rather plaintively; +"it will leave me free for other things," and then she sighed very +bitterly, and got up and left me. I was a little sorry that she did not +tell me all that was in her mind, for, if we are "to bear each other's +burdens," it is necessary to break down the reserve that keeps us out +of even a sister's heart sometimes. +</p> + +<p> +But though Carrie left me to my own thoughts, I was not able to quiet +myself for hours. If I had only Jessie to whom I could talk! and then +it seemed to me as though it were months since we sat together in the +garden of Redmayne House talking out our girlish philosophy. +</p> + +<p> +Only a fortnight ago, and yet how much had happened since then! What a +revolution in our home-world! Dear father lying in his quiet grave; +ourselves penniless orphans, obliged to leave Combe Manor, and indebted +to our generous benefactor for the very roof that was to cover us and +the food that we were to eat. +</p> + +<p> +Ah, well! I was only a schoolgirl, barely seventeen. No wonder I shrank +back a little appalled from the responsibilities that awaited me. I was +to be Uncle Geoff's housekeeper, his trusted right-hand and referee. I +was to manage that formidable Deborah, and the stolid, broad-faced +Martha; and there was mother so broken in health and spirits, and Dot, +and Jack, with her hoidenish ways and torn frocks, and Allan miles away +from me, and Carrie—well, I felt half afraid of Carrie to-night; she +seemed meditating great things when I wanted her to compass daily +duties. I hoped she would volunteer to go on with Jack's lessons and +help with the mending, and I wondered with more forebodings what things +she was planning for which I was to leave her free. +</p> + +<p> +All these things tired me, and I sat rather dismally in the moonlight +looking out at the closed white lilies and the swaying branches of the +limes, until a text suddenly flashed into my mind, "As thy day, so +shall thy strength be." I lit my candle and opened my Bible, that I +might read over the words for myself. Yes, there they were shining +before my eyes, like "apples of gold in pictures of silver," refreshing +and comforting my worn-out spirits. Strength promised for the day, but +not beforehand, supplies of heavenly manna, not to be hoarded or put +by; the daily measure, daily gathered. +</p> + +<p> +An old verse of Bishop Ken's came to my mind. Very quaint and rich in +wisdom it was: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "Does each day upon its wing<br /> + Its appointed burden bring?<br /> + Load it not besides with sorrow<br /> + That belongeth to the morrow.<br /> + When by God the heart is riven,<br /> + Strength is promised, strength is given:<br /> + But fore-date the day of woe,<br /> + And alone thou bear'st the blow."<br /> +</p> + +<p> +When I had said this over to myself, I laid my head on the pillow and +slept soundly. +</p> + +<p> +Mother and I had a nice little talk the next day. It was arranged that +I was to go over to Milnthorpe with Uncle Geoffrey, who was obliged to +return home somewhat hastily, in order to talk to Deborah and see what +furniture would be required for the rooms that were placed at our +disposal. As I was somewhat aghast at the amount of business entrusted +to my inexperienced hands, Allan volunteered to help me, as Carrie +could not be spared. +</p> + +<p> +We were to stay two or three days, make all the arrangements that were +necessary, and then come back and prepare for the flitting. If Allan +were beside me, I felt that I could accomplish wonders; nevertheless, I +carried rather a harassed face into dear mother's dressing-room that +morning. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Esther, how pale and tired you look!" were her first words as I +came toward her couch. "Poor child, we are making you a woman before +your time!" and her eyes filled with tears. +</p> + +<p> +"I am seventeen," I returned, with an odd little choke in my voice, for +I could have cried with her readily at that moment. "That is quite a +great age, mother; I feel terribly old, I assure you." +</p> + +<p> +"You are our dear, unselfish Esther," she returned, lovingly. Dear +soul, she always thought the best of us all, and my heart swelled how +proudly, and oh! how gratefully, when she told me in her sweet gentle +way what a comfort I was to her. +</p> + +<p> +"You are so reliable, Esther," she went on, "that we all look to you as +though you were older. You must be Uncle Geoffrey's favorite, I think, +from the way he talks about you. Carrie is very sweet and good too, but +she is not so practical." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, mother, she is ever so much better than I!" I cried, for I could +not bear the least disparagement of my darling Carrie. "Think how +pretty she is, and how little she cares for dress and admiration. If I +were like that," I added, flushing a little over my words, "I'm afraid +I should be terribly vain." +</p> + +<p> +Mother smiled a little at that. +</p> + +<p> +"Be thankful then that you are saved that temptation." And then she +stroked my hot cheek and went on softly: "Don't think so much about +your looks, child; plain women are just as vain as pretty ones. Not +that you are plain, Esther, in my eyes, or in the eyes of any one who +loves you." But even that did not quite comfort me, for in my secret +heart my want of beauty troubled me sadly. There, I have owned the +worst of myself—it is out now. +</p> + +<p> +We talked for a long time after that about the new life that lay before +us, and again I marveled at mother's patience and submission; but when +I told her so she only hid her face and wept. +</p> + +<p> +"What does it matter?" she said, at last, when she had recovered +herself a little. "No home can be quite a home to me now without him. +If I could live within sight of his grave, I should be thankful; but +Combe Manor and Milnthrope are the same to me now." And though these +words struck me as strange at first, I understood afterward; for in the +void and waste of her widowed life no outer change of circumstances +seemed to disturb her, except for our sakes and for us. +</p> + +<p> +She seemed to feel Uncle Geoffrey's kindness as a sort of stay and +source of endless comfort. "Such goodness—such unselfishness!" she +kept murmuring to herself; and then she wanted to hear all that Allan +and I proposed. +</p> + +<p> +"How I wish I could get strong and help you," she said, wistfully, when +I had finished. "With all that teaching and housekeeping, I am afraid +you will overtax your strength." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, no, Carrie will help me," I returned, confidently. "Uncle Geoffrey +is going to speak to some of his patients about us. He rather thinks +those Thornes who live opposite to him want a governess." +</p> + +<p> +"That will be nice and handy, and save you a walk," she returned, +brightening up at the notion that one of us would be so near her; but +though I would not have hinted at such a thing, I should rather have +enjoyed the daily walk. I was fond of fresh air, and exercise, and +rushing about, after the manner of girls, and it seemed rather tame and +monotonous just to cross the street to one's work; but I remembered +Allan's favorite speech, "Beggars must not be choosers," and held my +peace. +</p> + +<p> +On the whole, I felt somewhat comforted by my talk with mother. If she +and Uncle Geoffrey thought so well of me, I must try and live up to +their good opinion. There is nothing so good as to fix a high standard +for one's self. True, we may never reach it, never satisfy ourselves, +but the continued effort strengthens and elevates us. +</p> + +<p> +I went into Carrie's room to tell her about the Thornes, and lay our +plans together, but she was reading Thomas a Kempis, and did not seem +inclined to be disturbed, so I retreated somewhat discomforted. +</p> + +<p> +But I forgot my disappointment a moment afterward, when I went into the +schoolroom and found Dot fractious and weary, and Jack vainly trying to +amuse him. Allan was busy, and the two children had passed a solitary +morning. +</p> + +<p> +"Dot wanted Carrie to read to him, but she said she was too tired, and +I could do it," grumbled Jack, disconsolately. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't like Jack's reading; it is too jerky, and her voice is too +loud," returned Dot; but his countenance smoothed when I got the book +and read to him, and soon he fell into a sound sleep. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap05"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER V. +</h3> + +<h3> +THE OLD HOUSE AT MILNTHORPE. +</h3> + +<p> +The following afternoon Uncle Geoffrey, Allan, and I, started for +Milnthorpe. Youthful grief is addicted to restlessness—it is only the +old who can sit so silently and weep; it was perfectly natural, then, +that I should hail a few days' change with feelings of relief. +</p> + +<p> +It was rather late in the evening when we arrived. As we drove through +the market place there was the usual group of idlers loitering on the +steps of the Red Lion, who stared at us lazily as we passed. Milnthorpe +was an odd, primitive little place—the sunniest and sleepiest of +country towns. It had a steep, straggling Highstreet, which ended in a +wide, deserted-looking square, which rather reminded one of the Place +in some Continental town. The weekly markets were held here, on which +occasion the large white portico of the Red Lion was never empty. +Milnthorpe woke with brief spasms of life on Monday morning; +broad-shouldered men jostled each other on the grass-grown pavements; +large country wagons, sweet-smelling in haymaking seasons, blocked up +the central spaces; country women, with gay-colored handkerchiefs, sold +eggs, and butter, and poultry In the square; and two or three farmers, +with their dogs at their heels, lingered under the windows of the Red +Lion, fingering the samples in their pockets, and exchanging dismal +prognostications concerning the crops and the weather. One side of the +square was occupied by St. Barnabas, with its pretty shaded churchyard +and old gray vicarage. On the opposite side was the handsome red brick +house occupied by Mr. Lucas, the banker, and two or three other houses, +more or less pretentious, inhabited by the gentry of Milnthorpe. +</p> + +<p> +Uncle Geoffrey lived at the lower end of the High street. It was a +tall, narrow house, with old-fashioned windows and wire blinds. These +blinds, which were my detestation, were absolutely necessary, as the +street door opened directly on the street. There was one smooth, long +step, and that was all. It had rather a dull outside look, but the +moment one entered the narrow wainscoted hall, there was a cheery vista +of green lawn and neatly graveled paths through the glass door. +</p> + +<p> +The garden was the delight of Uncle Geoffrey's heart. It was somewhat +narrow, to match the house; but in the center of the lawn, there was a +glorious mulberry tree, the joy of us children. Behind was a wonderful +intricacy of slim, oddly-shaped flower-beds, intersected by miniature +walks, where two people could with difficulty walk abreast; and beyond +this lay a tolerable kitchen garden, where Deborah grew cabbages and +all sorts of homely herbs, and where tiny pink roses and sturdy +sweet-williams blossomed among the gooseberry bushes. +</p> + +<p> +On one side of the house were two roomy parlors, divided by folding +doors. We never called them anything but parlors, for the shabby +wainscoted walls and old-fashioned furniture forbade any similitude to +the modern drawing-room. +</p> + +<p> +On the other side of the hall was Uncle Geoffrey's study—a somewhat +grim, dingy apartment, with brown shelves full of ponderous tomes, a +pipe-rack filled with fantastic pipes, deep old cupboards full of +hetereogeneous rubbish, and wide easy-chairs that one could hardly +lift, one of which was always occupied by Jumbles, Uncle Geoffrey's dog. +</p> + +<p> +Jumbles was a great favorite with us all. He was a solemn, wise-looking +dog of the terrier breed, indeed, I believe Uncle Geoff called him a +Dandy Dinmont—blue-gray in color, with a great head, and deep-set +intelligent eyes. It was Uncle Geoffrey's opinion that Jumbles +understood all one said to him. He would sit with his head slightly on +one side, thumping his tail against the floor, with a sort of glimmer +of fun in his eyes, as though he comprehended our conversation, and +interposed a "Hear, hear!" and when he had had enough of it, and we +were growing prosy, he would turn over on his back with an expression +of abject weariness, as though canine reticence objected to human +garrulity. +</p> + +<p> +Jumbles was a rare old philosopher—a sort of four-footed Diogenes. He +was discerning in his friendships, somewhat aggressive and splenetic to +his equals; intolerant of cats, whom he hunted like vermin, and rather +disdainfully condescending to the small dogs of Milnthorpe. Jumbles +always accompanied Uncle Geoffrey in his rounds. He used to take his +place in the gig with undeviating punctuality; nothing induced him to +desert his post when the night-bell rang. He would rouse up from his +sleep, and go out in the coldest weather. We used to hear his deep bark +under the window as they sallied out in the midnight gloom. +</p> + +<p> +The morning after we arrived, Allan and I made a tour of inspection +through the house. There were only three rooms on the first +floor—Uncle Geoffrey's, with its huge four-post bed; a large front +room, that we both decided would just do for mother; and a smaller one +at the back, that, after a few minutes' deliberation, I allotted to +Carrie. +</p> + +<p> +It caused me an envious pang or two before I yielded it, for I knew I +must share a large upper room with Jack; the little room behind it must +be for Dot, and the larger one would by-and-by be Allan's. I confess my +heart sank a little when I thought of Jack's noisiness and thriftless +ways; but when I remembered how fond she was of good books, and the +great red-leaved diary that lay on her little table, I thought it +better that Carrie should have a quiet corner to herself, and then she +would be near mother. +</p> + +<p> +If only Jack could be taught to hold her tongue sometimes, and keep her +drawers in order, instead of strewing her room with muddy boots and odd +items of attire! Well, perhaps it might be my mission to train Jack to +more orderly habits. I would set her a good example, and coax her to +follow it. She was good-tempered and affectionate, and perhaps I should +find her sufficiently pliable. I was so lost in these anxious thoughts +that Allan had left me unperceived. I found him in the back parlor, +seated on the table, and looking about him rather gloomily. +</p> + +<p> +"I say, Esther!" he called out, as soon as he caught sight of me, "I am +afraid mother and Carrie will find this rather shabby after the dear +old rooms at Combe Manor. Could we not furbish it up a little?" And +Allan looked discontentedly at the ugly curtains and little, straight +horse-hair sofa. Everything had grown rather shabby, only Uncle +Geoffrey had not found it out. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, of course!" I exclaimed, joyfully, for all sorts of brilliant +thoughts had come to me while I tossed rather wakefully in the early +morning hours. "Don't you know, Allan, that Uncle Geoffrey has decided +to send mother and Carrie and Dot down to the sea for a week, while you +and I and Jack make things comfortable for them? Now, why should we not +help ourselves to the best of the furniture at Combe Manor, and make +Uncle Geoff turn out all these ugly things? We might have our pretty +carpet from the drawing-room, and the curtains, and mother's couch, and +some of the easy-chairs, and the dear little carved cabinet with our +purple china; it need not all be sold when we want it so badly for +mother." +</p> + +<p> +Allan was so delighted at the idea that we propounded our views to +Uncle Geoffrey at dinner-time; but he did not see the thing quite in +our light. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course you will need furniture for the bedrooms," he returned, +rather dubiously; "but I wanted to sell the rest of the things that +were not absolutely needed, and invest the money." +</p> + +<p> +But this sensible view of the matter did not please me or Allan. We had +a long argument, which ended in a compromise—the question of carpets +might rest. Uncle Geoffrey's was a good Brussels, although it was +dingy; but I might retain, if I liked, the pretty striped curtains from +our drawing-room at Combe Manor, and mother's couch, and a few of the +easy-chairs, and the little cabinet with the purple china; and then +there was mother's inlaid work-table, and Carrie's davenport, and books +belonging to both of us, and a little gilt clock that father had given +mother on her last wedding-day—all these things would make an entire +renovation in the shabby parlors. +</p> + +<p> +I was quite excited by all these arrangements; but an interview with +Deborah soon cooled my ardor. +</p> + +<p> +Allan and Jumbles had gone out with Uncle Geoffrey, and I was sitting +at the window looking over the lawn and the mulberry tree, when a +sudden tap at the door startled me from my reverie. Of course it was +Deborah; no one else's knuckles sounded as though they were iron. +Deborah was a tall, angular woman, very spare and erect of figure, with +a severe cast of countenance, and heavy black curls pinned up under her +net cap; her print dresses were always starched until they crackled, +and on Sunday her black silk dress rustled as I never heard any silk +dress rustle before. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Deborah, what is it?" I asked, half-frightened; for surely my +hour had come. Deborah was standing so very erect, with the basket of +keys in her hands, and her mouth drawn down at the corners. +</p> + +<p> +"Master said this morning," began Deborah, grimly, "as how there was a +new family coming to live here, and that I was to go to Miss Esther for +orders. Five-and-twenty years have I cooked master's dinners for him, +and received his orders, and never had a word of complaint from his +lips, and now he is putting a mistress over me and Martha." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Deborah," I faltered, and then I came to a full stop; for was it +not trying to a woman of her age and disposition, used to Uncle +Geoffrey's bachelor ways, to have a houseful of young people turned on +her hands? She and Martha would have to work harder, and they were both +getting old. I felt so much for her that the tears came into my eyes, +and my voice trembled. +</p> + +<p> +"It is hard!" I burst out; "it is very hard for you and Martha to have +your quiet life disturbed. But how could we help coming here, when we +had no home and no money, and Uncle Geoffrey was so generous? And then +there was Dot and mother so ailing." And at the thought of all our +helplessness, and Uncle Geoffrey's goodness a great tear rolled down my +cheek. It was very babyish and undignified; but, after all, no +assumption of womanliness would have helped me so much. Deborah's grim +mouth relaxed; under her severe exterior, and with her sharp tongue, +there beat a very kind heart, and Dot was her weak point. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, well, crying won't help the pot to boil, Miss Esther!" she said, +brusquely enough; but I could see she was coming round. "Master was +always that kind-hearted that he would have sheltered the whole parish +if he could. I am not blaming him, though it goes hard with Martha and +me, who have led peaceable, orderly lives, and never had a mistress or +thought of one since Miss Blake died, and the master took up thoughts +of single blessedness in earnest." +</p> + +<p> +"What sort of woman was Miss Blake?" I asked, eagerly, forgetting my +few troubled tears at the thought of Uncle Geoffrey's one romance. The +romance of middle-aged people always came with a faint, far-away odor +to us young ones, like some old garment laid up in rose-leaves or +lavender, which must needs be of quaint fashion and material, but +doubtless precious in the eyes of the wearer. +</p> + +<p> +"Woman!" returned Deborah, with an angry snort; "she was a lady, if +there ever was one. We don't see her sort every day, I can tell you +that, Miss Esther; a pretty-spoken, dainty creature, with long fair +curls, that one longed to twine round one's fingers." +</p> + +<p> +"She was pretty, then?" I hazarded more timidly. +</p> + +<p> +"Pretty! she was downright beautiful. Miss Carrie reminds me of her +sometimes, but she is not near so handsome as poor Miss Rose. She used +to come here sometimes with her mother, and she and master would sit +under that mulberry tree. I can see her now walking over the grass in +her white gown, with some apple blossoms in her hand, talking and +laughing with him. It was a sad day when she lay in the fever, and did +not know him, for all his calling to her 'Rose! Rose!' I was with her +when she died, and I thought he would never hold up his head again." +</p> + +<p> +"Poor Uncle Geoffrey! But he is cheerful and contented now." +</p> + +<p> +"But there, I must not stand gossiping," continued Deborah, +interrupting herself. "I have only brought you the keys, and wish to +know what preserve you and Mr. Allan might favor for tea." +</p> + +<p> +But here I caught hold, not of the key-basket, but of the hard, +work-worn hand that held it. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Deborah! do be good to us!" I broke out: "we will trouble you and +Martha as little as possible, and we are all going to put our shoulders +to the wheel and help ourselves; and we have no home but this, and no +one to take care of us but Uncle Geoffrey." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know but I will make some girdle cakes for tea," returned +Deborah, in the most imperturbable voice; and she turned herself round +abruptly, and walked out of the room without another word. But I was +quite well satisfied and triumphant. When Deborah baked girdle cakes, +she meant the warmest of welcomes, and no end of honor to Uncle +Geoffrey's guests. +</p> + +<p> +"Humph! girdle cakes!" observed Uncle Geoffrey, with a smile, as he +regarded them. "Deb is in a first-rate humor, then. You have played +your cards well, old lady," and his eyes twinkled merrily. +</p> + +<p> +I went into the kitchen after tea, and had another long talk with +Deborah. Dear old kitchen! How many happy hours we children had spent +in it! It was very low and dark, and its two windows looked out on the +stable-yard; but in the evening, when the fire burned clear and the +blinds were drawn, it was a pleasant place. Deborah and Martha used to +sit in the brown Windsor chairs knitting, with Puff, the great tabby +cat, beside them, and the firelight would play on the red brick floor +and snug crimson curtains. +</p> + +<p> +Deborah and I had a grand talk that night. She was a trifle obstinate +and dogmatical, but we got on fairly well. To do her justice, her chief +care seemed to be that her master should not be interfered with in any +of his ways. "He will work harder than ever," she groaned, "now there +are all these mouths to feed. He and Jumbles will be fairly worn out." +</p> + +<p> +But our talk contented me. I had enlisted Deborah's sympathies on our +side. I felt the battle was over. I was only a "bit thing" as Deborah +herself called me, and I was tolerably tired when I went up to my room +that night. +</p> + +<p> +Not that I felt inclined for sleep. Oh dear no! I just dragged the big +easy-chair to the window, and sat there listening to the patter of +summer rain on the leaves. +</p> + +<p> +It was very dark, for the moon had hidden her face; but through the +cool dampness there crept a delicious fragrance of wet jasmine and +lilies. I wanted to have a good "think;" not to sit down and take +myself to pieces. Oh no, that was Carrie's way. Such introspection +bored me and did me little good, for it only made me think more of +myself and less of the Master; but I wanted to review the past +fortnight, and look the future in the face. Foolish Esther! As though +we can look at a veiled face. Only the past and the present is ours; +the future is hidden with God. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, a fortnight ago I was a merry, heedless schoolgirl, with no +responsibilities and few duties, except that laborious one of +self-improvement, which must go on, under some form or other, until we +die. And now, on my shrinking shoulders lay the weight of a woman's +work. I was to teach others, when I knew so little myself; it was I who +was to have the largest share of home administration—I, who was so +faulty, so imperfect. +</p> + +<p> +Then I remembered a sentence Carrie had once read to me out of one of +her innumerable books, and which had struck me very greatly at the time. +</p> + +<p> +"Happy should I think myself," said St. Francis de Sales, "if I could +rid myself of my imperfections but one quarter of an hour previous to +my death." +</p> + +<p> +Well, if a saint could say that, why should I lose heart thinking about +my faults? What was the good of stirring up muddy water to try and see +one's own miserable reflection, when one could look up into the serene +blue of Divine Providence? If I had faults—and, alas! how many they +were—I must try to remedy them; if I slipped, I must pray for strength +to rise again. +</p> + +<p> +Courage, Esther! "Little by little," as Uncle Geoffrey says; "small +beginnings make great endings." And when I had cheered myself with +these words I went tranquilly to bed. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap06"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER VI. +</h3> + +<h3> +THE FLITTING. +</h3> + +<p> +So the old Combe Manor days were over, and with them the girlhood of +Esther Cameron. +</p> + +<p> +Ah me! it was sad to say good-by to the dear old home of our childhood; +to go round to our haunts, one by one, and look our last at every +cherished nook and corner; to bid farewell to our four-footed pets, +Dapple and Cherry and Brindle, and the dear little spotted calves; to +caress our favorite pigeons for the last time, and to feed the greedy +old turkey-cock, who had been the terror of our younger days. It was +well, perhaps, that we were too busy for a prolonged leave-taking. Fred +had gone to London, and his handsome lugubrious face no longer +overlooked us as we packed books and china. Carrie and mother and Dot +were cozily established in the little sea-side lodging, and only Allan, +Jack, and I sat down to our meals in the dismantled rooms. +</p> + +<p> +It was hard work trying to keep cheerful, when Allan left off +whistling, as he hammered at the heavy cases, and when Jack was +discovered sobbing in odd corners, with Smudge in her arms—of course +Smudge would accompany us to Milnthorpe; no one could imagine Jack +without her favorite sable attendant, and then Dot was devoted to him. +Jack used to come to us with piteous pleadings to take first one and +then another of her pets; now it was the lame chicken she had nursed in +a little basket by the kitchen fire, then a pair of guinea pigs that +belonged to Dot, and some carrier pigeons that they specially fancied; +after that, she was bent on the removal of a young family of hedgehogs, +and some kittens that had been discovered in the hay-loft, belonging to +the stable cat. +</p> + +<p> +We made a compromise at last, and entrusted to her care Carrie's tame +canaries, and a cage of dormice that belonged to Dot, in whose fate +Smudge look a vast amount of interest, though he never ventured to look +at the canaries. The care of these interesting captives was consolatory +to Jack, though she rained tears over them in secret, and was overheard +by Allan telling them between her sobs that "they were all going to +live in a little pokey house, without chickens or cows, or anything +that would make life pleasant, and that she and they must never expect +to be happy again." Ah, well! the longest day must have an end, and +by-and-by the evening came when we turned away from dear old Combe +Manor forever. +</p> + +<p> +It was far more cheerful work fitting up the new rooms at Milnthorpe, +with Deborah's strong arms to help, and Uncle Geoffrey standing by to +encourage our efforts; even Jack plucked up heart then, and hung up the +canaries, and hid away the dormice out of Smudge's and Jumbles' reach, +and consented to stretch her long legs in our behalf. Allan and I +thought we had done wonders when all was finished, and even Deborah +gave an approving word. +</p> + +<p> +"I think mother and Carrie will be pleased," I said, as I put some +finishing touches to the tea-table on the evening we expected them. +Allan had gone to the station to meet them, and only Uncle Geoffrey was +my auditor. There was a great bowl of roses on the table, great +crimson-hearted, delicious roses, and a basket of nectarines, that some +patient had sent to Uncle Geoffrey. The parlors looked very pretty and +snug; we had arranged our books on the shelves, and had hung up two or +three choice engravings, and there was the gleam of purple and gold +china from the dark oak cabinet, and by the garden window there were +mother's little blue couch and her table and workbox, and Carrie's +davenport, and an inviting easy-chair. The new curtains looked so well, +too. No wonder Uncle Geoffrey declared that he did not recognize his +old room. +</p> + +<p> +"I am sure they will be pleased," I repeated, as I moved the +old-fashioned glass dish full of our delicious Combe Manor honey; but +Uncle Geoffrey did not answer; he was listening to some wheels in the +distance. +</p> + +<p> +"There they are," he said, snatching up his felt wide-awake. "Don't +expect your mother to notice much to-night, Esther; poor thing, this is +a sad coming home to her." +</p> + +<p> +I need not have worked so hard; that was my first thought when I saw +mother's face as she entered the room. She was trembling like a leaf, +and her face was all puckered and drawn, as I kissed her; but Uncle +Geoffrey would not let her sit down or look at anything. +</p> + +<p> +"No, no, you shall not make efforts for us to-night," he said, patting +her as though she were a child. "Take your mother upstairs, children, +and let her have quiet! do you hear, nothing but quiet to-night." And +then Allan drew her arm through his. +</p> + +<p> +I cried shame on myself for a selfish, disappointed pang, as I followed +them. Of course Uncle Geoffrey was right and wise, as he always was, +and I was still more ashamed of myself when I entered the room and +found mother crying as though her heart would break, and clinging to +Allan. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, children, children! how can I live without your father?" she +exclaimed, hysterically. Well, it was wise of Allan, for he let that +pass and never said a word; he only helped me remove the heavy widow's +bonnet and cloak, and moved the big chintz couch nearer to the window, +and then he told me to be quick and bring her some tea; and when I +returned he was sitting by her, fanning and talking to her in his +pleasant boyish way; and though the tears were still flowing down her +pale cheeks she sobbed less convulsively. +</p> + +<p> +"You have both been so good, and worked so hard, and I cannot thank +you," she whispered, taking my hand, as I stood near her. +</p> + +<p> +"Esther does not want to be thanked," returned Allan, sturdily. "Now +you will take your tea, won't you, mother? and by-and-by one of the +girls shall come and sit with you." +</p> + +<p> +"Are we to go down and leave her?" I observed, dubiously, as Allan rose +from his seat. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, go, both of you, I shall be better alone; Allan knows that," with +a grateful glance as I reluctantly obeyed her. I was too young to +understand the healing effects of quiet and silence in a great grief; +to me the thought of such loneliness was dreadful, until, later on, she +explained the whole matter. +</p> + +<p> +"I am never less alone than when I am alone," she said once, very +simply to me. "I have the remembrance of your dear father and his words +and looks ever before me, and God is so near—one feels that most when +one is solitary." And her words remained with me long afterward. +</p> + +<p> +It was not such a very sad evening, after all. The sea air had done Dot +good, and he was in better spirits; and then Carrie was so good and +sweet, and so pleased with everything. +</p> + +<p> +"How kind of you, Esther," she said, with tears in her eyes, as I led +her into her little bedroom. "I hardly dared hope for this, and so near +dear mother." Well, it was very tiny, but very pretty, too. Carrie had +her own little bed, in which she had slept from a child, and the +evening sun streamed full on it, and a pleasant smell of white jasmine +pervaded it; part of the window was framed with the delicate tendrils +and tiny buds; and there was her little prayer-desk, with its shelf of +devotional books, and her little round table and easy-chair standing +just as it used; only, if one looked out of the window, instead of the +belt of green circling meadows, dotted over by grazing cattle there was +the lawn and the mulberry tree—a little narrow and homely, but still +pleasant. +</p> + +<p> +Carrie's eyes looked very vague and misty when I left her and went down +to Dot. Allan had put him to bed, but he would not hear of going to +sleep; he had his dormice beside him, and Jumbles was curled up at the +foot of the bed; he wanted to show me his seaweed and shells, and tell +me about the sea. +</p> + +<p> +"I can't get it out of my head, Essie," he said, sitting up among his +pillows and looking very wide-awake and excited. "I used to fall asleep +listening to the long wash and roll of the waves, and in the morning +there it was again. Don't you love the sea?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, dearly, Dot; and so does Allan." +</p> + +<p> +"It reminded me of the "Pilgrim's Progress"—just the last part. Don't +you remember the river that every one was obliged to cross? Carrie told +me it meant death." I nodded; Dot did not always need an answer to his +childish fancies, he used to like to tell them all out to Allan and me. +"One night," he went on, "my back was bad, and I could not sleep, and +Carrie made me up a nest of pillows in a big chair by the window, and +we sat there ever so long after mother was fast asleep. +</p> + +<p> +"It was so light—almost as light as day—and there were all sorts of +sparkles over the water, as though it were shaking out tiny stars in +play; and there was one broad golden path—oh! it was so beautiful—and +then I thought of Christian and Christiana, and Mr. Ready-to-halt, and +father, and they all crossed the river, you know." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Dot," I whispered. And then I repeated softly the well-known +verse we had so often sung: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "One army of the living God,<br /> + To His command we bow;<br /> + Part of the host have crossed the flood,<br /> + And part are crossing now."<br /> +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, yes," he repeated, eagerly; "it seemed as though I could see +father walking down the long golden path; it shone so, he could not +have missed his way or fallen into the dark waters. Carrie told me that +by-and-by there would be "no more sea," somehow; I was sorry for +that—aren't you, Essie?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, no, don't be sorry," I burst out, for I had often talked about +this with Carrie. "It is beautiful, but it is too shifting, too +treacherous, too changeable, to belong to the higher life. Think of all +the cruel wrecks, of all the drowned people it has swallowed up in its +rage; it devours men and women, and little children, Dot, and hides its +mischief with a smile. Oh, no, it is false in its beauty, and there +shall be an end of it, with all that is not true and perfect." +</p> + +<p> +And when Dot had fallen asleep, I went down to Uncle Geoffrey and +repeated our conversation, to which he listened with a great deal of +interest. +</p> + +<p> +"You are perfectly right, Esther," he said, thoughtfully; "but I think +there is another meaning involved in the words 'There shall be no more +sea.'" +</p> + +<p> +"The sea divides us often from those we love," he went on musingly; "it +is our great earthly barrier. In that perfected life that lies before +us there can be no barrier, no division, no separating boundaries. In +the new earth there will be no fierce torrents or engulfing ocean, no +restless moaning of waves. Do you not see this?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, indeed, Uncle Geoffrey;" but all the same I thought in my own +mind that it was a pretty fancy of the child's, thinking that he saw +father walking across the moonlight sea. No, he could not have fallen +in the dark water, no fear of that, Dot, when the angel of His mercy +would hold him by the hand; and then I remembered a certain lake and a +solemn figure walking quietly on its watery floor, and the words, "It +is I, be not afraid," that have comforted many a dying heart! +</p> + +<p> +Allan had to leave us the next day, and go back to his work; it was a +pity, as his mere presence, the very sound of his bright, young voice, +seemed to rouse mother and do her good. As for me, I knew when Allan +went some of the sunshine would go with him, and the world would have a +dull, work-a-day look. I tried to tell him so as we took our last walk +together. There was a little lane just by Uncle Geoffrey's house; you +turned right into it from the High street, and it led into the country, +within half a mile of the house. There were some haystacks and a +farmyard, a place that went by the name of Grubbings' Farm; the soft +litter of straw tempted us to sit down for a little, and listen to the +quiet lowing of the cattle as they came up from their pasture to be +milked. +</p> + +<p> +"It reminds me of Combe Manor," I said, and there was something wet on +my cheek as I spoke; "and oh, Allan! how I shall miss you to-morrow," +and I touched his coat sleeve furtively, for Allan was not one to love +demonstration. But, to my surprise, he gave me a kind little pat. +</p> + +<p> +"Not more than I shall miss you," he returned, cheerily. "We always get +along well, you and I, don't we, little woman?" And as I nodded my +head, for something seemed to impede my utterance at that moment, he +went on more seriously, "You have a tough piece of work before you, +Esther, you and Carrie; you will have to put your Combe Manor pride in +your pockets, and summon up all your Cameron strength of mind before +you learn to submit to the will of strangers. +</p> + +<p> +"Our poor, pretty Carrie," he continued, regretfully; "the little +saint, as Uncle Geoffrey used to call her. I am afraid her work will +not be quite to her mind, but you must smoothe her way as much as +possible; but there, I won't preach on my last evening; let me have +your plans instead, my dear." +</p> + +<p> +But I had no plans to tell him, and so we drifted by degrees into +Allan's own work; and as he told me about the hospital and his student +friends, and the great bustling world in which we lived, I forgot my +own cares. If I had not much of a life of my own to lead, I could still +live in his. +</p> + +<p> +The pleasure of this talk lingered long in my memory; it was so nice to +feel that Allan and I understood each other so well and had no divided +interests; it always seems to me that a sister ought to dwell in the +heart of a brother and keep it warm for that other and sacred love that +must come by-and-by; not that the wife need drive the sister into outer +darkness, but that there must be a humbler abiding in the outer court, +perchance a little guest-chamber on the wall; the nearer and more royal +abode must be for the elected woman among women. +</p> + +<p> +There is too little giving up and coming down in this world, too much +jealous assertion of right, too little yielding of the scepter in love. +It may be hard—God knows it is hard, to our poor human nature, for +some cherished sister to stand a little aside while another takes +possession of the goodly mansion, yet if she be wise and bend gently to +the new influence, there will be a "come up higher," long before the +dregs of the feast are reached. Old bonds are not easily broken, early +days have a sweetness of their own; by-and-by the sister will find her +place ready for her, and welcoming hands stretched out without grudging. +</p> + +<p> +The next morning I rose early to see Allan off Just at the last moment +Carrie came down in her pretty white wrapper to bid him good-by. Allan +was strapping up his portmanteau in the hall, and shook his head at her +in comic disapproval. "Fie, what pale cheeks, Miss Carrie! One would +think you had been burning the midnight oil." I wonder if Allan's +jesting words approached the truth, for Carrie's face flushed suddenly, +and she did not answer. +</p> + +<p> +Allan did not seem to notice her confusion. He bade us both good-by +very affectionately, and told us to be good girls and take care of +ourselves, and then in a moment he was gone. +</p> + +<p> +Breakfast was rather a miserable business after that; I was glad Uncle +Geoffrey read his paper so industriously and did not peep behind the +urn. Dot did, and slipped a hot little hand in mine, in an +old-fashioned sympathizing way. Carrie, who was sitting in her usual +dreamy, abstracted way, suddenly startled us all by addressing Uncle +Geoffrey rather abruptly. +</p> + +<p> +"Uncle Geoffrey, don't you think either Esther or I ought to go over to +the Thornes? They want a governess, you know." +</p> + +<p> +"Eh, what?" returned Uncle Geoffrey, a little disturbed at the +interruption in the middle of the leading article. "The Thornes? Oh, +yes, somebody was saying something to me the other day about them; what +was it?" And he rubbed his hair a little irritably. +</p> + +<p> +"We need not trouble Uncle Geoffrey," I put in, softly; "you and I can +go across before mother comes down. I must speak to Deborah, and then I +meant to hear Jack's lessons, but they can wait." +</p> + +<p> +"Very well," returned Carrie, nonchalantly; and then she added, in her +composed, elder sisterly way, "I may as well tell you, Esther, that I +mean to apply for the place myself; it will be so handy, the house +being just opposite; far more convenient than if I had a longer walk." +</p> + +<p> +"Very well," was my response, but I could not help feeling a little +relief at her decision; the absence of any walk was an evil in my eyes. +The Thornes' windows looked into ours; already I had had a sufficient +glimpse of three rather untidy little heads over the wire blind, and +the spectacle had not attracted me. I ventured to hint my fears to +Carrie that they were not very interesting children; but, to my dismay, +she answered that few children are interesting, and that one was as +good as another. +</p> + +<p> +"But I mean to be fond of my pupils," I hazarded, rather timidly, as I +took my basket of keys. I thought Uncle Geoffrey was deep in his paper +again. "I think a governess ought to have a good moral influence over +them. Mother always said so." +</p> + +<p> +"We can have a good moral influence without any personal fondness," +returned Carrie, rather dryly. Poor girl! her work outside was +distasteful to her, and she could not help showing it sometimes. +</p> + +<p> +"One cannot take interest in a child without loving it in time," I +returned, with a little heat, for I did not enjoy this slavish notion +of duty—pure labor, and nothing else. Carrie did not answer, she +leaned rather wearily against the window, and looked absently out. +Uncle Geoffrey gave her a shrewd glance as he folded up the newspaper +and whistled to Jumbles. +</p> + +<p> +"Settle it between yourselves girls," he observed, suddenly, as he +opened the door; "but if I were little Annie Thorne, I know I should +choose Esther;" and with this parting thrust he left the room, making +us feel terribly abashed. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap07"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER VII. +</h3> + +<h3> +OVER THE WAY. +</h3> + +<p> +I cannot say that I was prepossessed with the Thorne family, neither +was Carrie. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Thorne was what I call a loud woman; her voice was loud, and she +was full of words, and rather inquisitive on the subject of her +neighbors. +</p> + +<p> +She was somewhat good-looking, but decidedly over-dressed. Early as it +was, she was in a heavily-flounced silk dress, a little the worse for +wear. I guessed that first day, with a sort of feminine intuition, that +Mrs. Thorne wore out all her second-best clothes in the morning. +Perhaps it was my country bringing up, but I thought how pure and fresh +Carrie's modest dress looked beside it; and as for the quiet face under +the neatly-trimmed bonnet, I could see Mrs. Thorne fell in love with it +at once. She scarcely looked at or spoke to me, except when civility +demanded it; and perhaps she was right, for who would care to look at +me when Carrie was by? Then Carrie played, and I knew her exquisite +touch would demand instant admiration. I was a mere bungler, a beginner +beside her; she even sang a charming little <i>chanson</i>. No wonder Mrs. +Thorne was delighted to secure such an accomplished person for her +children's governess. The three little girls came in by-and-by—shy, +awkward children, with their mother's black eyes, but without her fine +complexion; plain, uninteresting little girls, with a sort of solemn +non-intelligence in their blank countenances, and a perceptible +shrinking from their mother's sharp voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Shake hands with Miss Cameron, Lucy; she is going to teach you all +manner of nice things. Hold yourself straight, Annie. What will these +young ladies think of you, Belle, if they look at your dirty pinafore? +Mine are such troublesome children," she continued, in a complaining +voice; "they are never nice and tidy and obedient, like other children. +Mr. Thorne spoils them, and then finds fault with me." +</p> + +<p> +"What is your name, dear?" I whispered to the youngest, when Mrs. +Thorne had withdrawn with Carrie for a few minutes. They were certainly +very unattractive children; nevertheless, my heart warmed to them, as +it did to all children. I was child-lover all my life. +</p> + +<p> +"Annie," returned the little one, shyly rolling her fat arms in her +pinafore. She was less plain than the others, and had not outgrown her +plumpness. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you know I have a little brother at home, who is a sad invalid;" +and then I told them about Dot, about his patience and his sweet ways, +and how he amused himself when he could not get off his couch for +weeks; and as I warmed and grew eloquent with my subject, their eyes +became round and fixed, and a sort of dawning interest woke up on their +solemn faces; they forgot I was a stranger, and came closer, and Belle +laid a podgy and a very dirty hand on my lap. +</p> + +<p> +"How old is your little boy?" asked Lucy, in a shrill whisper. And as I +answered her Mrs. Thorne and Carrie re-entered the room. They both +looked surprised when they saw the children grouped round me; Carrie's +eyebrows elevated themselves a little quizzically, and Mrs. Thorne +called them away rather sharply. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't take liberties with strangers, children. What will Miss Cameron +think of such manners?" And then she dismissed them rather summarily. I +saw Annie steal a little wistful look at me as she followed her sisters. +</p> + +<p> +We took our leave after that. Mrs. Thorne shook hands with us very +graciously, but her parting words were addressed to Carrie. "On Monday, +then. Please give my kind regards to Dr. Cameron, and tell him how +thoroughly satisfied I am with the proposed arrangement." And Carrie +answered very prettily, but as the door closed she sighed heavily. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, what children! and what a mother!" she gasped, as she took my arm, +and turned my foot-steps away from the house. "Never mind Jack, I am +going to the service at St. Barnabas; I want some refreshment after +what I have been through." And she sighed again. +</p> + +<p> +"But, Carrie," I remonstrated, "I have no time to spare. You know how +Jack has been neglected, and how I have promised Allan to do my best +for her until we can afford to send her to school." +</p> + +<p> +"You can walk with me to the church door," she returned, decidedly. I +was beginning to find out that Carrie could be self-willed sometimes. +"I must talk to you, Esther; I must tell you how I hate it. Fancy +trying to hammer French and music into those children's heads, when I +might—I might—" But here she stopped, actually on the verge of crying. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, my darling, Carrie!" I burst out, for I never could bear to see +her sweet face clouded for a moment, and she so seldom cried or gave +way to any emotion. "Why would you not let me speak? I might have saved +you this. I might have offered myself in your stead, and set you free +for pleasanter work." But she shook her head, and struggled for +composure. +</p> + +<p> +"You would not have done for Mrs. Thorne, Esther. Don't think me vain +if I say that I play and sing far better than you." +</p> + +<p> +"A thousand times better," I interposed. "And then you can draw." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Mrs. Thorne is a woman who values accomplishments. You are +clever at some things; you speak French fairly, and then you are a good +Latin scholar" (for Allan and I studied that together); "you can lay a +solid foundation, as Uncle Geoffrey says; but Mrs. Thorne does not care +about that," continued Carrie a little bitterly; "she wants a flimsy +superstructure of accomplishments—music, and French, and drawing, as +much as I can teach a useful life-work, Esther." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, why not?" I returned, with a little spirit, for here was one of +Carrie's old arguments. "If it be the work given us to do, it must be a +useful life-work. It might be our duty to make artificial flowers for +our livelihood—hundreds of poor creatures do that—and you would not +scold them for waste of time, I suppose?" +</p> + +<p> +"Anyhow, it is not work enough for me," replied Carrie firmly, and +passing over my clever argument with a dignified silence; "it is the +drudgery of mere ornamentation that I hate. I will do my best for those +dreadful children, Esther. Are they not pitiful little overdressed +creatures? And I will try and please their mother though I have not a +thought in common with her. And when I have finished my ornamental +brick-making—told my tales of the bricks——" here she paused, and +looked at me with a heightened color. +</p> + +<p> +"And what then?" I asked, rather crossly, for there was a flaw in her +speech somewhere, and I could not find it out. +</p> + +<p> +"We shall see, my wise little sister," she said, letting go my arm with +a kind pressure. "See, here is St. Barnabas; is it not a dear old +building? Must you go back to Jack?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I must," I answered, shortly. "<i>Laborare est orare</i>—to labor is +to pray, in my case, Carrie;" and with that I left her. +</p> + +<p> +But Carrie's arguments had seriously discomposed me. I longed to talk +it all out with Allan, and I do not think I ever missed him so much as +I did that day. I am afraid I was rather impatient with Jack that +morning; to be sure she was terribly awkward and inattentive; she would +put her elbows on the table, and ink her fingers, and then she had a +way of jerking her hair out of her eyes, which drove me nearly frantic. +I began to think we really must send her to school. We had done away +with the folding doors, they always creaked so, and had hung up some +curtains in their stead; through the folds I could catch glimpses of +dear mother leaning back in her chair, with Dot beside her. He was +spelling over his lesson to her, in a queer, little sing-song voice, +and they looked so cool and quiet that the contrast was quite +provoking; and there was Carrie kneeling in some dim corner, and +soothing her perturbed spirits with softly-uttered psalms and prayers. +</p> + +<p> +"Jack," I returned, for the sixth time, "I cannot have you kick the +table in that schoolboy fashion." +</p> + +<p> +Jack looked at me with roguish malice in her eyes. "You are not quite +well, Esther; you have got a pain in your temper, haven't you, now?" +</p> + +<p> +I don't know what I might have answered, for Jack was right, and I was +as cross as possible, only just at that moment Uncle Geoffrey put his +head in at the door, and stood beaming on us like an angel of +deliverance. +</p> + +<p> +"Fee-fo-fum," for he sometimes called Jack by that charming +<i>sobriquet</i>, indeed, he was always inventing names for her, "it is too +hot for work, isn't it? I think I must give you a holiday, for I want +Esther to go out with me." Uncle Geoffrey's wishes were law, and I rose +at once; but not all my secret feelings of relief could prevent me from +indulging in a parting thrust. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't think Jack deserves the holiday," I remarked, with a severe +look at the culprit; and Jack jerked her hair over her eyes this time +in some confusion. +</p> + +<p> +"Hullo, Fee-fo-fum, what have you been up to? Giving Esther trouble? +Oh, fie! fie!" +</p> + +<p> +"I only kicked the table," returned Jack, sullenly, "because I hate +lessons—that I do, Uncle Geoffrey—and I inked my fingers because I +liked it; and I put my elbows on the copy-book because Esther said I +wasn't to do it; and my hair got in my eyes; and William the Conqueror +had six wives, I know he had; and I told Esther she had a pain in her +temper, because she was as cross as two sticks; and I don't remember +any more, and I don't care," finished Jack, who could be like a mule on +occasions. +</p> + +<p> +Uncle Geoffrey laughed—he could not help it—and then he patted Jack +kindly on her rough locks. "Clever little Fee-fo-fum; so William the +Conqueror had six wives, had he? Come, this is capital; we must send +you to school, Jack, that is what we must do. Esther cannot be in two +places at once." What did he mean by that, I wonder! And then he bid me +run off and put on my hat, and not keep him waiting. +</p> + +<p> +Jack's brief sullenness soon vanished, and she followed me out of the +room to give me a penitent hug—that was so like Jack; the inky caress +was a doubtful consolation, but I liked it, somehow. +</p> + +<p> +"Where are you going, Uncle Geoff?" I asked, as we walked up the High +street, followed by Jumbles, while Jack and Smudge watched us from the +door. +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Lucas wants to see you," he returned, briefly. "Bless me, there +is Carrie, deep in conversation with Mr. Smedley. Where on earth has +the girl picked him up?" And there, true enough, was Carrie, standing +in the porch, talking eagerly to a fresh-colored, benevolent-looking +man, whom I knew by sight as the vicar of St. Barnabas. +</p> + +<p> +She must have waylaid him after service, for the other worshipers had +dropped off; we had met two or three of them in the High street. I do +not know why the sight displeased me, for of course she had a right to +speak to her clergyman. Uncle Geoffrey whistled under his breath, and +then laughed and wondered "what the little saint had to say to her +pastor;" but I did not let him go on, for I was too excited with our +errand. +</p> + +<p> +"Why does Miss Lucas want to see me?" I asked, with a little beating of +the heart. The Lucas family were the richest people in Milnthorpe. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Lucas was the banker, and kept his carriage, and had a pretty +cottage somewhere by the seaside; they were Uncle Geoffrey's patients, +I knew, but what had that to do with poor little me? +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Lucas wants to find some one to teach her little niece," returned +Uncle Geoffrey; and then I remembered all at once that Mr. Lucas was a +widower with one little girl. He had lost his wife about a year ago, +and his sister had come to live with him and take care of his +motherless child. What a chance this would have been for Carrie! but +now it was too late. I was half afraid as we came up to the great red +brick house, it was so grand and imposing, and so was the +solemn-looking butler who opened the door and ushered us into the +drawing-room. +</p> + +<p> +As we crossed the hall some one came suddenly out on us from a dark +lobby, and paused when he saw us. "Dr. Cameron! This is your niece, I +suppose, whom my sister Ruth is expecting?" and as he shook hands with +us he looked at me a little keenly, I thought. He was younger than I +expected; it flashed across me suddenly that I had once seen his poor +wife. I was standing looking out of the window one cold winter's day, +when a carriage drove up to the door with a lady wrapped in furs. I +remember Uncle Geoffrey went out to speak to her, and what a smile came +over her face when she saw him. She was very pale, but very beautiful; +every one said so in Milnthorpe, for she had been much beloved. +</p> + +<p> +"My sister is in the drawing-room; you must excuse me if I say I am in +a great hurry," and then he passed on with a bow. I thought him very +formidable, the sort of man who would be feared as well as respected by +his dependants. He had the character of being a very reserved man, with +a great many acquaintances and few intimate friends. I had no idea at +that time that no one understood him so well as Uncle Geoffrey. +</p> + +<p> +I was decidedly nervous when I followed Uncle Geoffrey meekly into the +drawing-room. Its size and splendor did not diminish my fears, and I +little imagined then how I should get to love that room. +</p> + +<p> +It was a little low, in spite of its spaciousness, and its three long +windows opened in French fashion on to the garden. I had a glimpse of +the lawn, with a grand old cedar in the middle, before my eyes were +attracted to a lady in deep mourning, writing in a little alcove, half +curtained off from the rest of the room, and looking decidedly cozy. +</p> + +<p> +The moment she turned her face toward us at the mention of our names, +my unpleasant feelings of nervousness vanished. She was such a little +woman—slightly deformed, too—with a pale, sickly-looking face, and +large, clear eyes, that seemed to attract sympathy at once, for they +seemed to say to one, "I am only a timid, simple little creature. You +need not be afraid of me." +</p> + +<p> +I was not very tall, but I almost looked down on her as she gave me her +hand. +</p> + +<p> +"I was expecting you, Miss Cameron," she said, in such a sweet tone +that it quite won my heart. "Your uncle kindly promised to introduce us +to each other." +</p> + +<p> +And then she looked at me, not keenly and scrutinizingly, as her +brother had done, but with a kindly inquisitiveness, as though she +wanted to know all about me, and to put me at my ease as soon as +possible. I flushed a little at that, and my unfortunate sensitiveness +took alarm. If it were only Carrie, I thought, with her pretty face and +soft voice; but I was so sadly unattractive, no one would be taken with +me at first sight. Fred had once said so in my hearing, and how I had +cried over that speech! +</p> + +<p> +"Esther looks older than she is; but she is only seventeen," interposed +Uncle Geoffrey, as he saw that unlucky blush. "She is a good girl, and +very industrious, and her mother's right hand," went on the simple man. +If I only could have plucked up spirit and contradicted him, but I felt +tongue-tied. +</p> + +<p> +"She looks very reliable," returned Miss Lucas, in the kindest way. To +this day I believe she could not find any compliment compatible with +truth. I once told her so months afterward, when we were very good +friends, and she laughed and could not deny it. +</p> + +<p> +"You were frowning so, Esther," she replied, "from excess of +nervousness, I believe, that your forehead was quite lost in your hair, +and your great eyes were looking at me in such a funny, frightened way, +and the corners of your mouth all coming down, I thought you were +five-and-twenty at least, and wondered what I was to do with such a +proud, repellant-looking young woman; but when you smiled I began to +see then." +</p> + +<p> +I had not reached the smiling stage just then, and was revolving her +speech in rather a dispirited way. Reliable! I knew I was that; when +all at once she left off looking at me, and began talking to Uncle +Geoffrey. +</p> + +<p> +"And so you have finished all your Good Samaritan arrangements, Dr. +Cameron; and your poor sister-in-law and her family are really settled +in your house? You must let me know when I may call, or if I can be of +any use. Giles told me all about it, and I was so interested." +</p> + +<p> +"Is it not good of Uncle Geoffrey?" I broke in. And then it must have +been that I smiled; but I never could have passed that over in silence, +to hear strangers praise him, and not join in. +</p> + +<p> +"I think it is noble of Dr. Cameron—we both think so," she answered, +warmly; and then she turned to me again. "I can understand how anxious +you must all feel to help and lighten his burdens. When Dr. Cameron +proposed your services for my little niece—for he knows what an +invalid I am, and that systematic teaching would be impossible to me—I +was quite charmed with the notion. But now, before we talk any more +about it, supposing you and I go up to see Flurry." +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap08"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER VIII. +</h3> + +<h3> +FLURRY AND FLOSSY. +</h3> + +<p> +What a funny little name! I could not help saying so to Miss Lucas as I +followed her up the old oak staircase with its beautifully carved +balustrades. +</p> + +<p> +"It is her own baby abbreviation of Florence," she returned, pausing on +the landing to take breath, for even that slight ascent seemed to weary +her. She was quite pale and panting by the time we arrived at our +destination. "It is nice to be young and strong," she observed, +wistfully. "I am not very old, it is true"—she could not have been +more than eight-and-twenty—"but I have never enjoyed good health, and +Dr. Cameron says I never can hope to do so; but what can you expect of +a crooked little creature like me?" with a smile that was quite natural +and humorous, and seemed to ask no pity. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Ruth was perfectly content with her life. I found out afterward +she evoked rare beauty out of its quiet every-day monotony, storing up +precious treasures in homely vessels. +</p> + +<p> +Life was to her full of infinite possibilities, a gradual dawning and +brightening of hopes that would meet their full fruition hereafter. +"Some people have strength to work," she said once to me, "and then +plenty of work is given to them; and some must just keep quiet and +watch others work, and give them a bright word of encouragement now and +then. I am one of those wayside loiterers," she finished, with a laugh; +but all the same every one knew how much Miss Ruth did to help others, +in spite of her failing strength. +</p> + +<p> +The schoolroom, or nursery, as I believe it was called, was a large +pleasant room just over the drawing-room, and commanding the same view +of the garden and cedar-tree. It had three windows, only they were +rather high up, and had cushioned window-seats. In one of them there +was a little girl curled up in company with a large brown and white +spaniel. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Flurry, what mischief are you and Flossy concocting?" asked Miss +Lucas, in a playful voice, for the child was too busily engaged to +notice our entrance. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, it is my little auntie," exclaimed Flurry, joyously, and she +scrambled down, while Flossy wagged his tail and barked. Evidently Miss +Ruth was not a frequent visitor to the nursery. +</p> + +<p> +Flurry was about six, not a pretty child by any means, though there +might be a promise of future beauty in her face. She was a thin, +serious-looking little creature, more like the father than the mother, +and no one could call Mr. Lucas handsome. Her dark eyes—nearly black +they were—matched oddly, in my opinion, with her long fair hair; such +pretty fluffy hair it was, falling over her black frock. When her aunt +bade her come and speak to the lady who was kind enough to promise to +teach her, she stood for a moment regarding me gravely with childish +inquisitiveness before she gave me her hand. +</p> + +<p> +"What are you going to teach me?" she asked. "I don't think I want to +be taught, auntie; I can read, I have been reading to Flossy, and I can +write, and hem father's handkerchiefs. Ask nursie." +</p> + +<p> +"But you would like to play to dear father, and to learn all sorts of +pretty hymns to say to him, would you not, my darling! There are many +things you will have to know before you are a woman." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't mean to be a woman ever, I think," observed Flurry; "I like +being a child better. Nursie is a woman, and nursie won't play; she +says she is old and stupid." +</p> + +<p> +A happy inspiration came to me. "If you are good and learn your +lessons, I will play with you," I said, rather timidly; "that is, if +you care for a grown-up playfellow." +</p> + +<p> +I was only seventeen, in spite of my <i>pronounce</i> features, and I could +still enter into the delights of a good drawn battle of battledore and +shuttlecock. Perhaps it was the repressed enthusiasm of my tone, for I +really meant what I said; but Flurry's brief coldness vanished, and she +caught at my hand at once. +</p> + +<p> +"Come and see them," she said; "I did not know you liked dolls, but you +shall have one of your own if you like;" and she led me to a corner of +the nursery where a quantity of dolls in odd costumes and wonderfully +constrained attitudes were arranged round an inverted basket. +</p> + +<p> +"Joseph and his brethren," whispered Flurry. "I am going to put him in +the pit directly, only I wondered what I should do for the camels—this +is Issachar, and this Gad. Look at Gad's turban." +</p> + +<p> +It was almost impossible to retain my gravity. I could see Miss Lucas +smiling in the window seat. Joseph and his brethren—what a droll idea +for a child! But I did not know then that Flurry's dolls had to sustain +a variety of bewildering parts. When I next saw them the smart turbans +were all taken off the flaxen heads, a few dejected sawdust bodies hung +limply round a miller's cart. "Ancient Britons," whispered Flurry. +"Nurse would not let me paint them blue, but they did not wear clothes +then, you know." In fact, our history lesson was generally followed by +a series of touching <i>tableaux vivants</i>, the dolls sustaining their +parts in several moving scenes of "Alfred and the Cakes," "Hubert and +Arthur," and once "the Battle of Cressy." +</p> + +<p> +Flurry and I parted the best of friends; and when we joined Uncle +Geoffrey in the drawing-room I was quite ready to enter on my duties at +once. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Lucas stipulated for my services from ten till five; a few simple +lessons in the morning were to be followed by a walk, I was to lunch +with them, and in the afternoon I was to amuse Flurry or teach her a +little—just as I liked. +</p> + +<p> +"The fact is," observed Miss Lucas, as I looked a little surprised at +this programme, "Nurse is a worthy woman, and we are all very much +attached to her; but she is very ignorant, and my brother will not have +Flurry thrown too much on her companionship. He wishes me to find some +one who will take the sole charge of the child through the day; in the +evening she always comes down to her father and sits with him until her +bedtime." And then she named what seemed to me a surprisingly large sum +for services. What! all that for playing with Flurry, and giving her a +few baby lessons; poor Carrie could not have more for teaching the +little Thornes. But when I hinted this to Uncle Geoffrey, he said +quietly that they were rich people and could well afford it. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't rate yourself so low, little woman," he added, good-humoredly; +"you are giving plenty of time and interest, and surely that is worth +something." And then he went on to say that Jack must go to school, he +knew a very good one just by; some ladies who were patients of his +would take her at easy terms, he knew. He would call that very +afternoon and speak to Miss Martin. +</p> + +<p> +Poor mother shed a few tears when I told her our plans. It was sad for +her to see her girls reduced to work for themselves; but she cheered up +after a little while, and begged me not to think her ungrateful and +foolish. "For we have so many blessings, Esther," she went on, in her +patient way. "We are all together, except poor Fred, and but for your +uncle's goodness we might have been separated." +</p> + +<p> +"And we shall have such nice cozy evenings," I returned, "when the +day's work is over. I shall feel like a day laborer, mother, bringing +home my wages in my pocket. I shall be thinking of you and Dot all day, +and longing to get back to you." +</p> + +<p> +But though I spoke and felt so cheerfully, I knew that the evenings +would not be idle. There would be mending to do and linen to make, for +we could not afford to buy our things ready-made; but, with mother's +clever fingers and Carrie's help, I thought we should do very well. I +must utilize every spare minute, I thought. I must get up early and +help Deborah, so that things might go on smoothly for the rest of the +day. There was Dot to dress, and mother was ailing, and had her +breakfast in bed—there would be a hundred little things to set right +before I started off for the Cedars, as Mr. Lucas' house was called. +</p> + +<p> +"Never mind, it is better to wear out than to rust out," I said to +myself. And then I picked up Jack's gloves from the floor, hung up her +hat in its place, and tried to efface the marks of her muddy boots from +the carpet (I cannot deny Jack was a thorn in my side just now), and +then there came a tap at my door, and Carrie came in. +</p> + +<p> +She looked so pretty and bright, that I could not help admiring her +afresh. I am sure people must have called her beautiful. +</p> + +<p> +"How happy you look, Carrie, in spite of your three little Thornes," I +said rather mischievously. "Has mother told you about Miss Lucas?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I heard all about that," she returned, absently. "You are very +fortunate, Esther, to find work in which you can take an interest. I am +glad—very glad about that." +</p> + +<p> +"I wish, for your sake, that we could exchange," I returned, feeling +myself very generous in intention, but all the same delighted that my +unselfishness should not be put to the proof. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, no, I have no wish of that sort," she replied, hastily; "I could +not quite bring myself to play with children in the nursery." I suppose +mother had told her about the dolls. "Well, we both start on our +separate treadmill on Monday—Black Monday, eh, Esther?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not at all," I retorted, for I was far too pleased and excited with my +prospects to be damped by Carrie's want of enthusiasm. I thought I +would sit down and write to Jessie, and tell her all about it, but here +was Carrie preparing herself for one of her chats. +</p> + +<p> +"Did you see me talking to Mr. Smedley, Esther?" she began; and as I +nodded she went on. "I had never spoken to him before since Uncle +Geoffrey introduced us to him. He is such a nice, practical sort of +man. He took me into the vicarage, and introduced me to his wife. She +is very plain and homely, but so sensible." +</p> + +<p> +I held my peace. I had rather a terror of Mrs. Smedley. She was one of +those bustling workers whom one dreads by instinct. She had a habit of +pouncing upon people, especially young ones, and driving them to work. +Before many days were over she had made poor mother promise to do some +cutting out for the clothing club, as though mother had not work enough +for us all at home. I thought it very inconsiderate of Mrs. Smedley. +</p> + +<p> +"I took to them at once," went on Carrie, "and indeed they were +exceedingly kind. Mr. Smedley seemed to understand everything in a +moment, how I wanted work, and——" +</p> + +<p> +"But, Carrie," I demanded, aghast at this, "you have work: you have the +little Thornes." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, don't drag them in at every word," she answered, pettishly—at +least pettishly for her; "of course, I have my brick-making, and so +have you. I am thinking of other things now, Esther; I have promised +Mr. Smedley to be one of his district visitors." +</p> + +<p> +I almost jumped off my chair at that, I was so startled and so +indignant. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Carrie! and when you know mother does not approve of girls of our +age undertaking such work—she has said so over and over again—how can +you go against her wishes?" +</p> + +<p> +Carrie looked at me mildly, but she was not in the least discomposed at +my words. +</p> + +<p> +"Listen to me, you silly child," she said, good-humoredly; "this is one +of mother's fancies; you cannot expect me with my settled views to +agree with her in this." +</p> + +<p> +I don't know what Carrie meant by her views, unless they consisted in a +determination to make herself and every one else uncomfortable by an +overstrained sense of duty. +</p> + +<p> +"Middle-aged people are timid sometimes. Mother has never visited the +poor herself, so she does not see the necessity for my doing it; but I +am of a different opinion," continued Carrie, with a mild obstinacy +that astonished me too much for any reply. +</p> + +<p> +"When mother cried about it just now, and begged me to let her speak to +Mr. Smedley, I told her that I was old enough to judge for myself, and +that I thought one's conscience ought not to be slavishly bound even to +one's parent. I was trying to do my duty to her and to every one, but I +must not neglect the higher part of my vocation." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Carrie, how could you? You will make her so unhappy." +</p> + +<p> +"No; she only cried a good deal, and begged me to be prudent and not +overtax my strength; and then she talked about you, and hoped I should +help you as much as possible, as though I meant to shirk any part of my +duty. I do not think she really disapproved, only she seemed nervous +and timid about it; but I ask you, Esther, how I could help offering my +services, when Mrs. Smedley told me about the neglected state of the +parish, and how few ladies came forward to help?" +</p> + +<p> +"But how will you find time?" I remonstrated; though what was the good +of remonstrating when Carrie had once made up her mind? +</p> + +<p> +"I have the whole of Saturday afternoon, and an hour on Wednesday, and +now the evenings are light I might utilize them a little. I am to have +Nightingale lane and the whole of Rowley street, so one afternoon in +the week will scarcely be sufficient." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Carrie," I groaned; but, actually, though the mending lay on my +mind like a waking nightmare, I could not expostulate with her. I only +looked at her in a dim, hopeless way and shook my head; if these were +her views I must differ from them entirely. Not that I did not wish +good—heavenly good—to the poor, but that I felt home duties would +have to be left undone; and after all that uncle had done for us! +</p> + +<p> +"And then I promised Mrs. Smedley that I would help in the +Sunday-school," she continued, cheerfully. "She was so pleased, and +kissed me quite gratefully. She says she and Mr. Smedley have had such +up-hill work since they came to Milnthorpe—and there is so much +lukewarmness and worldliness in the place. Even Miss Lucas, in spite of +her goodness—and she owned she was very good, Esther—will not take +their advice about things." +</p> + +<p> +"I told her," she went on, hesitating, "that I would speak to you, and +ask you to take a Sunday class in the infant school. You are so fond of +children, I thought you would be sure to consent." +</p> + +<p> +"So I would, and gladly too, if you would take my place at home," I +returned, quickly; "but if you do so much yourself, you will prevent me +from doing anything. Why not let me take the Sunday school class, while +you stop with mother and Dot?" +</p> + +<p> +"What nonsense!" she replied, flushing a little, for my proposition did +not please her; "that is so like you, Esther, to raise obstacles for +nothing. Why cannot we both teach; surely you can give one afternoon a +week to God's work?" +</p> + +<p> +"I hope I am giving not one afternoon, but every afternoon to it," I +returned, and the tears rushed to my eyes, for her speech wounded me. +"Oh, Carrie, why will you not understand that I think that all work +that is given us to do is God's work? It is just as right for me to +play with Flurry as it is to teach in the Sunday school." +</p> + +<p> +"You can do both if you choose," she answered, coolly. +</p> + +<p> +"Not unless you take my place," I returned, decidedly, for I had the +Cameron spirit, and would not yield my point; "for in that case Dot +would lose his Sunday lessons, and Jack would be listless and fret +mother." +</p> + +<p> +"Very well," was Carrie's response; but I could see she was displeased +with my plain speaking; and I went downstairs very tired and +dispirited, to find mother had cried herself into a bad headache. +</p> + +<p> +"If I could only talk to your dear father about it," she whispered, +when she had opened her heart to me on the subject of Carrie. "I am +old-fashioned, as Carrie says, and it is still my creed that parents +know best for their children; but she thinks differently, and she is so +good that, perhaps, one ought to leave her to judge for herself. If I +could only know what your father would say," she went on, plaintively. +</p> + +<p> +I could give her no comfort, for I was only a girl myself, and my +opinions were still immature and unfledged, and then I never had been +as good as Carrie. But what I said seemed to console mother a little, +for she drew down my face and kissed it. +</p> + +<p> +"Always my good, sensible Esther," she said, and then Uncle Geoffrey +came in and prescribed for the headache, and the subject dropped. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap09"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER IX. +</h3> + +<h3> +THE CEDARS. +</h3> + +<p> +I was almost ashamed of myself for being so happy, and yet it was a +sober kind of happiness too. I did not forget my father, and I missed +Allan with an intensity that surprised myself; but, in spite of hard +work and the few daily vexations that hamper every one's lot, I +continued to extract a great deal of enjoyment out of my life. To sum +it up with a word, it was life—not mere existence—a life brimming +over with duties and responsibilities and untried work, too busy for +vacuum. Every corner and interstice of time filled up—heart, and head, +and hands always fully employed; and youth and health, those two grand +gifts of God, making all such work a delight. +</p> + +<p> +Now I am older, and the sap of life does not run so freely in my veins, +I almost marvel at the remembrance of those days, at my youthful +exuberance and energy, and those words, "As thy day, so shall thy +strength be," come to me with a strange force and illumination, for +truly I needed it all then, and it was given to me. Time was a treasure +trove, and I husbanded every minute with a miser's zeal. I had always +been an early riser, and now I reaped the benefit of this habit. Jack +used to murmur discontentedly in her sleep when I set the window open +soon after six, and the fresh summer air fanned her hot face. But how +cool and dewy the garden looked at that hour! +</p> + +<p> +It was so bright and still, with the thrushes and blackbirds hopping +over the wet lawn, and the leaves looking so fresh and green in the +morning sun; such twitterings and chirpings came from the lilac trees, +where the little brown sparrows twittered and plumed themselves. The +bird music used to chime in in a sort of refrain to my morning +prayers—a diminutive chorus of praise—the choral before the day's +service commenced. +</p> + +<p> +I always gave Jack a word of warning before I left the room (the +reprimand used to find her in the middle of a dream), and then I went +to Dot. I used to help him to dress and hear him repeat his prayers, +and talk cheerfully to him when he was languid and fretful, and the +small duties of life were too heavy for his feeble energies. Dot always +took a large portion of my time; his movements were slow and full of +tiny perversities; he liked to stand and philosophize in an infantile +way when I wanted to be downstairs helping Deborah. Dot's fidgets, as I +called them, were part of the day's work. +</p> + +<p> +When he was ready to hobble downstairs with his crutch, I used to fly +back to Jack, and put a few finishing touches to her toilet, for I knew +by experience that she would make her appearance downstairs with a +crooked parting and a collar awry, and be grievously plaintive when +Carrie found fault with her. Talking never mended matters; Jack was at +the hoiden age, and had to grow into tidiness and womanhood by-and-by. +</p> + +<p> +After that I helped Deborah, and took up mother's breakfast. I always +found her lying with her face to the window, and her open Bible beside +her. Carrie had always been in before me and arranged the room. Mother +slept badly, and at that early hour her face had a white, pining look, +as though she had lost her way in the night, or waked to miss +something. She used to turn with a sweet troubled smile to me as I +entered. +</p> + +<p> +"Here comes my busy little woman," she would say, with a pretense at +cheerfulness, and then she would ask after Dot. She never spoke much of +her sadness to us; with an unselfishness that was most rare she refused +to dim our young cheerfulness by holding an unhealed grief too plainly +before our eyes. Dear mother, I realize now what that silence must have +cost her! +</p> + +<p> +When breakfast was over, and Uncle Geoffrey busily engrossed with his +paper, I used to steal into the kitchen and have a long confab with +Deborah, and then Jack and I made our bed and dusted our room to save +Martha, and by that time I was ready to start to the Cedars; but not +until I had convoyed Jack to Miss Martin's, and left her and her books +safely at the door. +</p> + +<p> +Dot used to kiss me rather wistfully when I left him with his +lesson-books and paint-box, waiting for mother to come down and keep +him company. Poor little fellow, he had rather a dull life of it, for +even Jumbles refused to stay with him, and Smudge was out in the +garden, lazily watching the sparrows. Poor little lonely boy, deprived +of the usual pleasures of boyhood, and looking out on our busy lives +from a sort of sad twilight of pain and weakness, but keeping such a +brave heart and silent tongue over it all. +</p> + +<p> +How I enjoyed my little walk up High street and across the wide, +sunshiny square! When I reached the Cedars, and the butler admitted me, +I used to run up the old oak staircase and tap at the nursery door. +</p> + +<p> +Nurse used to courtesy and withdraw; Flurry and I had it all to +ourselves. I never saw Miss Lucas until luncheon-time; she was more of +an invalid than I knew at that time, and rarely left her room before +noon. Flurry and I soon grew intimate; after a few days were over we +were the best of friends. She was a clever child and fond of her +lessons, but she was full of droll fancies. She always insisted on her +dolls joining our studies. It used to be a little embarrassing to me at +first to see myself surrounded by the vacant waxen faces staring at us, +with every variety of smirk and bland fatuous expression: the flaxen +heads nid-nodded over open lesson-books, propped up in limp, leathery +arms. When Flossy grew impatient for a game of play, he would drag two +or three of them down with a vicious snap and a stroke of his feathery +paws. Flurry would shake her head at him disapprovingly, as she picked +them up and shook out their smart frocks. The best behaved of the dolls +always accompanied us in our walk before luncheon. +</p> + +<p> +I used to think of Carrie's words, sometimes, as I played with Flurry +in the afternoon; she would not hear of lessons then. Sometimes I would +coax her to sew a little, or draw; and she always had her half hour at +the piano, but during the rest of the afternoon I am afraid there was +nothing but play. +</p> + +<p> +How I wish Dot could have joined us sometimes as we built our famous +brick castles, or worked in Flurry's little garden, where she grew all +sorts of wonderful things. When I was tired or lazy I used to bring out +my needle-work to the seat under the cedar, and tell Flurry stories, or +talk to her as she dressed her dolls; she was very good and tractable, +and never teased me to play when I was disinclined. +</p> + +<p> +I told her about Dot very soon, and she gave me no peace after that +until I took her to see him; there was quite a childish friendship +between them soon. Flurry used to send him little gifts, which she +purchased with her pocket-money—pictures, and knives, and pencils. I +often begged Miss Lucas to put a stop to it, but she only laughed and +praised Flurry, and put by choice little portions of fruit and other +dainties for Flurry's boy friend. +</p> + +<p> +Flurry prattled a great deal about her father, but I never saw him. He +had his luncheon at the bank. Once when we were playing battledore and +shuttle-cock in the hall—for Miss Lucas liked to hear us all over the +house; she said it made her feel cheerful—I heard a door open +overhead, and caught a glimpse of a dark face watching us; but I +thought it was Morgan the butler, until Flurry called out joyfully, +"Father! Father!" and then it disappeared. Now and then I met him in +the square, and he always knew me and took off his hat; but I did not +exchange a word with him for months. +</p> + +<p> +Flurry loved him, and seemed deep in his confidence. She always put on +her best frock and little pearl necklace to go down and sit with her +father, while he ate his dinner. She generally followed him into his +study, and chatted to him, until nurse fetched her at bed-time. When +she had asked me some puzzling question that it was impossible to +answer, she would refer it to her father with implicit faith. She would +make me rather uncomfortable at times respecting little speeches of his. +</p> + +<p> +"Father can't understand why you are so fond of play," she said once to +me; "he says so few grown-up girls deign to amuse themselves with a +game: but you do like it, don't you, Miss Cameron?" making up a very +coaxing face. Of course I confessed to a great fondness for games, but +all the same I wished Mr. Lucas had not said that. Perhaps he thought +me too hoidenish for his child's governess, and for a whole week after +that I refused to play with Flurry, until she began to mope, and my +heart misgave me. We played at hide and seek that day all over the +house—Flurry and Flossy and I. +</p> + +<p> +Then another time, covering me with dire confusion, "Father thinks that +such a pretty story, Miss Cameron, the one about Gretchen. He said I +ought to try and remember it, and write it down; and then he asked if +you had really made it up in your head." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Flurry, that silly little story?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not silly at all," retorted Flurry, with a little heat; "father had a +headache, and he could not talk to me, so I told him stories to send +him to sleep, and I thought he would like dear little Gretchen. He +never went to sleep after all, but his eyes were wide open, staring at +the fire; and then he told me he had been thinking of dear mamma, and +he thought I should be very like her some day. And then he thanked me +for my pretty stories, and then tiresome old nursie fetched me to bed." +</p> + +<p> +That stupid little tale! To think of Mr. Lucas listening to that. I was +not a very inventive storyteller, though I could warm into eloquence on +occasions, but Flurry's demand was so excessive that I hit on a capital +plan at last. +</p> + +<p> +I created a wonderful child heroine, and called her Juliet and told a +little fresh piece of her history every day. Never was there such a +child for impossible adventures and hairbreadth escapes; what that +unfortunate little creature went through was known only to Flurry and +me. +</p> + +<p> +She grew to love Juliet like a make-believe sister of her own, and +talked of her at last as a living child. What long moral conversations +took place between Juliet and her mother, what admirable remarks did +that excellent mother make, referring to sundry small sins of omission +and commission on Juliet's part! When I saw Flurry wince and turn red I +knew the remarks had struck home. +</p> + +<p> +It was astonishing how Juliet's behavior varied with Flurry's. If +Flurry were inattentive, Juliet was listless; if her history lessons +were ill-learned, Juliet's mamma had always a great deal to say about +the battle of Agincourt or any other event that it was necessary to +impress on her memory. I am afraid Flurry at last took a great dislike +to that well-meaning lady, and begged to hear more about Juliet's +little brother and sister. When I came to a very uninteresting part she +would propose a game of ball or a scamper with Flossy; but all the same +next day we would be back at it again. +</p> + +<p> +The luncheon hour was very pleasant to me. I grew to like Miss Lucas +excessively; she talked so pleasantly and seemed so interested in all I +had to tell her about myself and Flurry; a quiet atmosphere of +refinement surrounded her—a certain fitness and harmony of thought. +Sometimes she would invite us into the drawing-room after luncheon, +saying she felt lonely and would be glad of our society for a little. I +used to enjoy those half-hours, though I am afraid Flurry found them a +little wearisome. Our talk went over her head, and she would listen to +it with a droll, half-bored expression, and take refuge at last with +Flossy. +</p> + +<p> +Sometimes, but not often, Miss Lucas would take us to drive with her. I +think, until she knew me well, that she liked better to be alone with +her own thoughts. As our knowledge of each other grew, I was struck +with the flower-like unfolding of her ideas; they would bud and break +forth into all manner of quaint fancies—their freshness and +originality used to charm me. +</p> + +<p> +I think there is no interest in life compared to knowing +people—finding them out, their tastes, character, and so forth. I had +an inquisitive delight, I called it thirst, for human knowledge, in +drawing out a stranger; no traveler exploring unknown tracts of country +ever pursued his researches with greater zeal and interest. Reserve +only attracts me. +</p> + +<p> +Impulsive people, who let out their feelings the first moment, do not +interest me half so much as silent folk. I like to sit down before an +enclosed citadel and besiege it; with such ramparts of defense there +must be precious store in the heart of the city, some hidden jewels, +perhaps; at least, so I argue with myself. +</p> + +<p> +But, happy as I was with Miss Lucas and Flurry, five o'clock no sooner +struck than I was flying down the oak staircase, with Flurry peeping at +me between the balustrades, and waving a mite of a hand in token of +adieu; for was I not going home to mother and Dot? Oh, the dear, bright +home scene that always awaited me! I wonder if Carrie loved it as I +did! The homely, sunny little parlors; the cozy tea table, over which +old Martha would be hovering with careful face and hands; mother in her +low chair by the garden window; Uncle Geoffrey with his books and +papers at the little round table; Dot and Jack hidden in some corner, +out of which Dot would come stumping on his poor little crutches to +kiss me, and ask after his little friend Flurry. +</p> + +<p> +"Here comes our Dame Bustle," Uncle Geoffrey would say. It was his +favorite name for me, and mother would look up and greet me with the +same loving smile that was never wanting on her dear face. +</p> + +<p> +On the stairs I generally came upon Carrie, coming down from her little +room. +</p> + +<p> +"How are the little Thornes?" I would ask her, cheerfully; but +by-and-by I left off asking her about them. At first she used to shrug +her shoulders and shake her head in a sort of disconsolate fashion, or +answered indifferently: "Oh, much as usual, thank you." But once she +returned, quite pettishly: +</p> + +<p> +"Why do you ask after those odious children, Esther? Why cannot you let +me forget them for a few hours? If we are brickmakers, we need not +always be telling the tales of our bricks." She finished with a sort of +weary tone in her tired voice, and after that I let the little Thornes +alone. +</p> + +<p> +What happy evenings those were! Not that we were idle, though—"the +saints forbid," as old Biddy used to say. When tea was over, mother and +I betook ourselves to the huge mending basket; sometimes Carrie joined +us, when she was not engaged in district work, and then her clever +fingers made the work light for us. +</p> + +<p> +Then there were Jack's lessons to superintend, and sometimes I had to +help Dot with his drawing, or copy out papers for Uncle Geoffrey: then +by-and-by Dot had to be taken upstairs, and there were little things to +do for mother when Carrie was too tired or busy to do them. Mother was +Carrie's charge. As Dot and Jack were mine, it was a fair division of +labor, only somehow Carrie had always so much to do. +</p> + +<p> +Mother used to fret sometimes about it, and complain that Carrie sat up +too late burning the midnight oil in her little room; but I never could +find out what kept her up. I was much happier about Carrie now—she +seemed brighter and in better spirits. If she loathed her daily +drudgery, she said little about it, and complained less. All her +interests were reserved for Nightingale lane and Rowley street. The +hours spent in those unsavory neighborhoods were literally her times of +refreshment. Her poor people were very close to her heart, and often +she told us about them as we sat working together in the evening, until +mother grew quite interested, and used to ask after them by name, which +pleased Carrie, and made a bond of sympathy between them. At such times +I somehow felt a little sad, though I would not have owned it for +worlds, for it seemed to me as though my work were so trivial compared +to Carrie's—as though I were a poor little Martha, "careful and +troubled about many things" about, Deborah's crossness and Jack's +reckless ways, occupied with small minor duties—dressing Dot, and +tidying Jack's and Uncle Geoffrey's drawers; while Carrie was doing +angel's work; reclaiming drunken women, and teaching miserable degraded +children, and then coming home and playing sweet sacred fragments of +Handel to soothe mother's worn spirits, or singing her the hymns she +loved. Alas! I could not sing except in church, and my playing was a +poor affair compared to Carrie's. +</p> + +<p> +I felt it most on Sundays, when Carrie used to go off to the Sunday +school morning and afternoon, and left me to the somewhat monotonous +task of hearing Jack her catechism and giving Dot his Scripture lesson. +Sunday was always a trial to Dot. He was not strong enough to go to +church—the service would have wearied him too much—his few lessons +were soon done, and then time used to hang heavily on his hands. +</p> + +<p> +At last the grand idea came to me to set him to copy Scripture maps, +and draw small illustrations of any Biblical scene that occurred in the +lesson of the day. I have a book full of his childish fancies now, all +elaborately colored on week-days—"Joseph and his Brethren" in gaudy +turbans, and wonderfully inexpressive countenances, reminding me of +Flurry's dolls; the queen of Sheba, coming before Solomon, in a +marvelous green tiara and yellow garments; a headless Goliath, +expressed with a painful degree of detail, more fit for the Wirtz +Gallery than a child's scrap-book. +</p> + +<p> +Dot used frequently to write letters to Allan, to which I often added +copious postscripts. I never could coax Dot to write to Fred, though +Fred sent him plenty of kind messages, and many a choice little parcel +of scraps and odds and ends, such as Dot liked. +</p> + +<p> +Fred was getting on tolerably, he always told us. He had rooms in St. +John's Wood, which he shared with two other artists; he was working +hard, and had some copying orders. Allan saw little of him; they had no +friends in common, and no community of taste. Never were brothers less +alike or with less sympathy. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap10"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER X. +</h3> + +<h3> +"I WISH I HAD A DOT OF MY OWN." +</h3> + +<p> +Months passed over, and found us the same busy, tranquil little +household. I used to wonder how my letters could interest Allan so much +as he said they did; I could find so little to narrate. And, talking of +that, it strikes me that we are not sufficiently thankful for the +monotony of life. I speak advisedly; I mean for the quiet uniformity +and routine of our daily existence. In our youth we quarrel a little +with its sameness and regularity; it is only when the storms of sudden +crises and unlooked-for troubles break over our thankful heads that we +look back with regret to those still days of old. +</p> + +<p> +Nothing seemed to happen, nothing looked different. Mother grew a +little stronger as the summer passed, and took a few more household +duties on herself. Dot pined and pinched as the cold weather came on, +as he always did, and looked a shivering, shabby Dot sometimes. Jack's +legs grew longer, and her frocks shorter, and we had to tie her hair to +keep it out of her eyes, and she stooped more, and grew +round-shouldered, which added to her list of beauties; but no one +expected grace from Jack. +</p> + +<p> +At the Cedars things went on as usual, that Flurry left off calling me +Miss Cameron, and took to Esther instead, somewhat scandalizing Miss +Lucas, until she began taking to it herself. "For you are so young, and +you are more Flurry's playfellow than her governess," she said +apologetically; "it is no good being stiff when we are such old +friends." And after that I always called her Miss Ruth. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't you want see to Roseberry, Esther?" asked Flurry, one day—that +was the name of the little seaside place where Mr. Lucas had a cottage. +"Aunt Ruth says you must come down with us next summer; she declares +she has quite set her heart on it." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Flurry, that would be delightful!—but how could I leave mother +and Dot?" I added in a regretful parenthesis. That was always the +burden of my song—Mother and Dot. +</p> + +<p> +"Dot must come, too," pronounced Flurry, decidedly; and she actually +proposed to Miss Ruth at luncheon that "Esther's little brother should +be invited to Roseberry." Miss Ruth looked at me with kindly amused +eyes, as I grew crimson and tried to hush Flurry. +</p> + +<p> +"We shall see," she returned, in her gentle voice; "if Esther will not +go without Dot, Dot must come too." But though the bare idea was too +delightful, I begged Miss Ruth not to entertain such an idea for a +moment. +</p> + +<p> +I think Flurry's little speech put a kind thought into Miss Ruth's +head, for when she next invited us to drive with her, the gray horses +stopped for an instant at Uncle Geoffrey's door, and the footman lifted +Dot in his little fur-lined coat, and placed him at Miss Ruth's side. +And seeing the little lad's rapture, and Flurry's childish delight, she +often called for him, sometimes when she was alone, for she said Dot +never troubled her; he could be as quiet as a little mouse when her +head ached and she was disinclined to talk. +</p> + +<p> +I said nothing happened; but one day I had a pleasant surprise, just +when I did not deserve it; for it was one of my fractious days—days of +moods and tenses I used to called them—when nothing seemed quite +right, when I was beset by that sort of grown-up fractiousness that +wants to be petted and put to bed, and bidden to lie still like a tired +child. +</p> + +<p> +Winter had set in in downright earnest, and in those cold dark mornings +early rising seemed an affront to the understanding, and a snare to be +avoided by all right-minded persons; yet notwithstanding all that, a +perverse, fidgety notion of duty drove me with a scourge of mental +thorns from my warm bed. For I was young and healthy, and why should I +lie there while Deborah and Martha broke the ice in their pitchers, and +came downstairs with rasped red faces and acidulated tempers? I was +thankful not to do likewise, to know I should hear in a few minutes a +surly tap at the door, with the little hot-water can put down with +protesting evidence. Even then it was hard work to flesh and blood, +with no dewy lawn, no bird music now to swell my morning's devotion +with tiny chorus of praise; only a hard frozen up world, with a trickle +of meager sunshine running through it. +</p> + +<p> +But my hardest work was with Dot; he used to argue drowsily with me +while I stood shivering and awaiting his pleasure. Why did I not go +down to the fire if I were cold? He was not going to get up in the +middle of the night to please any one; never mind the robins—of which +I reminded him gently—he wished he were a robin too, and could get up +and go to bed with a neat little feather bed tacked to his skin—nice, +cosy little fellows; and then he would draw the bedclothes round his +thin little shoulders, and try to maintain his position. +</p> + +<p> +He quite whimpered on the morning in question, when I lifted him out +bodily—such a miserable Dot, looking like a starved dove in his white +plumage; but he cheered up at the sight of the fire and hot coffee in +the snug parlor, and whispered a little entreaty for forgiveness as I +stooped over him to make him comfortable. +</p> + +<p> +"You are tired, Esther," said my mother tenderly, when she saw my face +that morning; "you must not get up so early this cold weather, my +dear." But I held my peace, for who would dress Dot, and what would +become of Jack? And then came a little lump in my throat, for I was +tired and fractious. +</p> + +<p> +When I got to the Cedars a solemn stillness reigned in the nursery, and +instead of an orderly room a perfect chaos of doll revelry prevailed. +All the chairs were turned into extempore beds, and the twelve dolls, +with bandaged heads and arms, were tucked up with the greatest care. +</p> + +<p> +Flurry met me with an air of great importance and her finger on her lip. +</p> + +<p> +"Hush, Esther, you must not make a noise. I am Florence Nightingale, +and these are all the poor sick and wounded soldiers; look at this one, +this is Corporal Trim, and he has had his two legs shot off." +</p> + +<p> +I recognized Corporal Trim under his bandages; he was the very doll +Flossy had so grievously maltreated and had robbed of an eye; the waxen +tip of his nose was gone, and a great deal of his flaxen wig +besides—quite a caricature of a mutilated veteran. +</p> + +<p> +I called Flurry to account a little sternly, and insisted on her +restoring order to the room. Flurry pouted and sulked; her heart was at +Scutari, and her wits went wool-gathering, and refused dates and the +multiplication table. To make matters worse, it commenced snowing, and +there was no prospect of a walk before luncheon. Miss Ruth did not come +down to that meal, and afterward I sat and knitted in grim silence. +Discipline must be maintained, and as Flurry would not work, neither +would I play with her; but I do not know which of us was punished the +most. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, how cross you are, Esther, and it is Christmas eve!" cried Flurry +at last, on the verge of crying. It was growing dusk, and already +shadows lurked in the corner of the room, Flurry looked at me so +wistfully that I am afraid I should have relented and gone on a little +with Juliet, only at that moment she sprang up joyfully at the sound of +her aunt's voice calling her, and ran out to the top of the dark +staircase. +</p> + +<p> +"We are to go down, you and I; Aunt Ruth wants us," she exclaimed, +laying violent hands on my work. I felt rather surprised at the +summons, for Miss Ruth never called us at this hour, and it would soon +be time for me to go home. +</p> + +<p> +The drawing-room looked the picture of warm comfort as we entered it; +some glorious pine logs were crackling and spluttering in the grate, +sending out showers of colored sparks. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Ruth was half-buried in her easy-chair, with her feet on the white +fleecy rug, and the little square tea-table stood near her, with its +silver kettle and the tiny blue teacups. +</p> + +<p> +"You have sent for us, Miss Ruth," I said, as I crossed the room to +her; but at that instant another figure I had not seen started up from +a dark corner, and caught hold of me in rough, boyish fashion. +</p> + +<p> +"Allan! oh Allan! Allan!" my voice rising into a perfect crescendo of +ecstasy at the sight of his dear dark face. Could anything be more +deliciously unexpected? And there was Miss Ruth laughing very softly to +herself at my pleasure. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Allan, what does this mean," I demanded, "when you told us there +was no chance of your spending Christmas with us? Have you been home? +Have you seen mother and Dot? Have you come here to fetch me home?" +</p> + +<p> +Allan held up his hands as he took a seat near me. +</p> + +<p> +"One question at a time, Esther. I had unexpected leave of absence for +a week, and that is why you see me; and as I wanted to surprise you +all, I said nothing about it. I arrived about three hours ago, and as +mother thought I might come and fetch you, why I thought I would, and +that you would be pleased to see me; that is all my story," finished +Allan, exchanging an amused glance with Miss Ruth. They had never met +before, and yet they seemed already on excellent terms. All an made no +sort of demur when Miss Ruth insisted that we should both have some tea +to warm us before we went. I think he felt at home with her at once. +</p> + +<p> +Flurry seemed astonished at our proceeding. She regarded Allan for a +long time very solemnly, until he won her heart by admiring Flossy; +then she condescended to converse with him. +</p> + +<p> +"Are you Esther's brother, really?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Miss Florence—I believe that is your name." +</p> + +<p> +"Florence Emmeline Lucas," she repeated glibly. "I'm Flurry for short; +nobody calls me Florence except father sometimes. It was dear mamma's +name, and he always sighs when he says it." +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed," returned Allan in an embarrassed tone; and then he took +Flossy on his knee and began to play with him. +</p> + +<p> +"Esther is rich," went on Flurry, rather sadly. "She has three +brothers; there's Fred, and you, and Dot. I think she likes Dot best, +and so do I. What a pity I haven't a Dot of my own! No brothers; only +father and Aunt Ruth." +</p> + +<p> +"Poor little dear," observed Allan compassionately—he was always fond +of children. His hearty tone made Flurry look up in his face. "He is a +nice man," she said to me afterward; "he likes Flossy and me, and he +was pleased when I kissed him." +</p> + +<p> +I did not tell Flurry that Allan had been very much astonished at her +friendship. +</p> + +<p> +"That is a droll little creature," he said, as we left the house +together; "but there is something very attractive about her. You have a +nice berth there, Esther. Miss Lucas seems a delightful person," an +opinion in which I heartily agreed. Then he asked me about Mr. Lucas; +but I had only Flurry's opinion to offer him on that subject, and he +questioned me in his old way about my daily duties. "Mother thinks you +are overworked, and you are certainly looking a little thin, Esther. +Does not Carrie help you enough? And what is this I have just heard +about the night school?" +</p> + +<p> +Our last grievance, which I had hitherto kept from Allan; but of course +mother had told him. It was so nice to be walking there by his side, +with the crisp white snow beneath our feet, and the dark sky over our +heads; no more fractiousness now, when I could pour out all my worries +to Allan. +</p> + +<p> +Such a long story I told him; but the gist of it was this; Carrie had +been very imprudent; she would not let well alone, or be content with a +sufficient round of duties. She worked hard with her pupils all day, +and besides that she had a district and Sunday school; and now Mrs. +Smedley had persuaded her to devote two evenings of her scanty leisure +to the night school. +</p> + +<p> +"I think it is very hard and unjust to us," I continued rather +excitedly. "We have so little of Carrie—only just the odds and ends of +time she can spare us. Mrs. Smedley has no right to dictate to us all, +and to work Carrie in the way she does. She has got an influence over +her, and she uses it for her own purposes, and Carrie is weak to yield +so entirely to her judgment; she coaxes her and flatters her, and talks +about her high standard and unselfish zeal for the work; but I can't +understand it, and I don't think it right for Carrie to be Mrs. +Smedley's parochial drudge." +</p> + +<p> +"I will talk to Carrie," returned Allan, grimly; and he would not say +another word on the subject. But I forgot all my grievances during the +happy evening that followed. +</p> + +<p> +Allan was in such spirits! As frolicsome as a boy, he would not let us +be dull, and so his talk never flagged for a moment. Dot laughed till +the tears ran down his cheeks when Allan kicked over the mending +basket, and finally ordered Martha to take it away. When Carrie +returned from the night school, she found us all gathered round the +fire in peaceful idleness, listening to Allan's stories, with Dot on +the rug, basking in the heat like a youthful salamander. +</p> + +<p> +I think Allan must have followed her up to her room, for just as I was +laying my head on the pillow there was a knock at the door, and Carrie +entered with her candle, fully dressed, and with a dark circle round +her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +She put down the light, so as not to wake Jack, and sat down by my side +with a weary sigh. +</p> + +<p> +"Why did you all set Allan to talk to me?" she began reproachfully. +"Why should I listen to him more than to you or mother? I begin to see +that a man's foes are indeed of his own household." +</p> + +<p> +I bit my lips to keep in a torrent of angry words. I was out of +patience with Carrie, even a saint ought to have common sense, I +thought, and I was so tired and sleepy, and to-morrow was Christmas Day. +</p> + +<p> +"I could not sleep until I came and told you what I thought about it," +she went on in her serious monotone. I don't think she even noticed my +exasperated silence. "It is of no use for Allan to come and preach his +wordly wisdom to me; we do not measure things by the same standard, he +and I. You are better, Esther, but your hard matter-of-fact reasoning +shocks me sometimes." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Carrie! why don't you create a world of your own," I demanded, +scornfully, "if we none of us please you—not even Allan?" +</p> + +<p> +"Now you are angry without cause," she returned, gently, for Carrie +rarely lost her temper in an argument; she was so meekly obstinate that +we could do nothing with her. "We cannot create our own world, Esther; +we can only do the best we can with this. When I am working so hard to +do a little good in Milnthorpe, why do you all try to hinder and drag +me back?" +</p> + +<p> +"Because you are <i>over</i>doing it, and wearing yourself out," I returned, +determined to have my say; but she stopped me with quiet peremptoriness. +</p> + +<p> +"No more of that, Esther; I have heard it all from Allan. I am not +afraid of wearing out; I hope to die in harness. Why, child, how can +you be so faint-hearted? We cannot die until our time comes." +</p> + +<p> +"But when we court death it is suicide," I answered, stubbornly; but +Carrie only gave one of her sweet little laughs. +</p> + +<p> +"You foolish Esther! who means to die, I should like to know? Why, the +child is actually crying. Listen to me, you dear goosie. I was never so +happy or well in my life." I shook my head sorrowfully, but she +persisted in her statement. "Mrs. Smedley has given me new life. How I +do love that woman! She is a perfect example to us—of unselfishness +and energy. She says I am her right hand, and I do believe she means +it, Esther." But I only groaned in answer. "She is doing a magnificent +work in Milnthrope," she continued, "and I feel so proud that I am +allowed to assist her. Do you know, I had twenty boys in my class this +evening; they would come to me, though Miss Miles' class was nearly +empty." And so she went on, until I felt all over prickles of +suppressed nervousness. "Well, good-night," she said, at last, when I +could not he roused into any semblance of interest; "we shall see which +of us be right by-and-by." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, we shall see," I answered, drowsily; but long after she left I +muttered the words over and over to myself, "We shall see." +</p> + +<p> +Yes, by-and-by the light of Divine truth would flash over our actions, +and in that pure radiance every unworthy work would wither up to +naught—every unblessed deed retreat into outer darkness. Which would +be right, she or I? +</p> + +<p> +I know only too well that, taking the world as a whole, we ought to +<i>encourage</i> Christian parochial work, because too many girls who +possess the golden opportunity of leisure allow it to be wasted, and so +commit the "sin of omission;" but there would have been quite as much +good done had Carrie dutifully helped in our invalid home and cheered +us all to health by her bright presence. And besides, I myself could +then perhaps have taken a class at me night school if the +stocking-mending and the other multitudinous domestic matters could +have allowed it. +</p> + +<p> +The chimes of St. Barnabas were pealing through the midnight air before +I slept. Above was the soft light of countless stars, sown broadcast +over the dark skies. Christmas was come, and the angel's song sounding +over the sleeping earth. +</p> + +<p> +"Peace and goodwill to men"—peace from weary arguments and fruitless +regret, peace on mourning hearts, on divided homes, on mariners tossing +afar on wintry seas, and peace surely on one troubled girlish heart +that waited for the breaking of a more perfect day. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap11"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XI. +</h3> + +<h3> +MISS RUTH'S NURSE. +</h3> + +<p> +Miss Ruth insisted on giving me a week's holiday, that I might avail +myself of Allan's society; and as dear mother still persisted that I +looked pale and in need of change, Allan gave me a course of bracing +exercise in the shape of long country walks with him and Jack, when we +plowed our way over half-frozen fields and down deep, muddy lanes, +scrambling over gates and through hedges, and returning home laden with +holly berries and bright red hips and haws. +</p> + +<p> +On Allan's last evening we were invited to dine at the Cedars—just +Uncle Geoffrey, Allan, and I. Miss Ruth wrote such a pretty letter. She +said that her brother thought it was a long time since he had seen his +old friend Dr. Cameron, and that he was anxious to make acquaintance +with his nephew and Flurry's playfellow—this was Miss Ruth's name for +me, for we had quite dropped the governess between us. +</p> + +<p> +Allan looked quite pleased, and scouted my dubious looks; he had taken +a fancy to Miss Ruth, and wanted to see her again. He laughed when I +said regretfully that it was his last evening, and that I would rather +have spent it quietly at home with him. I was shy at the notion of my +first dinner-party; Mr. Lucas' presence would make it a formal affair. +</p> + +<p> +And then mother fretted a little that I had no evening-dress ready. I +could not wear white, so all my pretty gowns were useless; but I +cheered her up by my assuring her that such things did not matter in +our deep mourning. And when I had dressed myself in my black cashmere, +with soft white ruffles and a little knot of Christmas roses and ferns +which Carrie had arranged in my dress, mother gave a relieved sigh, and +thought I should do nicely, and Allan twisted me round, and declared I +was not half so bad after all, and that, though I was no beauty, I +should pass, with which dubious compliment I was obliged to content +myself. +</p> + +<p> +"I wish you were going in my stead, Carrie," I whispered, as she +wrapped me in mother's warm fleecy shawl, for the night was piercingly +cold. +</p> + +<p> +"I would rather stay with mother," she answered quietly. And then she +kissed me, and told me to be a good child, and not to be frightened of +any one, in her gentle, elder sisterly way. It never occurred to her to +envy me my party or my pleasant position at the Cedars, or to compare +her own uncongenial work with mine. These sorts of petty jealousies and +small oppositions were impossible to her; her nature was large and +slightly raised, and took in wider vistas of life than ours. +</p> + +<p> +My heart sank a little when I heard the sharp vibrating sound of Mrs. +Smedley's voice as we were announced. I had no idea that the vicar and +his wife were to be invited, but they were the only guests beside +ourselves. I never could like Mrs. Smedley and to the very last I never +changed my girlish opinion of her. I have a curious instinctive +repugnance to people who rustle through life; whose entrances and exits +are environed with noise; who announce their intentions with the blast +of the trumpet. Mrs. Smedley was a wordy woman. She talked much and +well, but her voice was loud and jarring. She was not a bad-looking +woman. I daresay in her younger days she had been handsome, for her +features were very regular and her complexion good; but I always said +that she had worn herself thin with talking. She was terribly straight +and angular (I am afraid I called it bony); she had sharp high cheek +bones, and her hands were long and lean. On this evening she wore a +rich brown brocade, that creaked and rustled with every movement, and +some Indian bangles that jingled every time she raised her arm. I could +not help comparing her to Miss Ruth, who sat beside her, looking lovely +in a black velvet gown, and as soft and noiseless as a little mouse. I +am afraid Mrs. Smedley's clacking voice made her head ache terribly for +she grew paler and paler before the long dinner was over. As Miss Ruth +greeted me, I saw Mr. Lucas cross the room with Flurry holding his hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Flurry must introduce me to her playfellow," he said, with a kind +glance at us both, as the child ran up to me and clasped me close. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Esther, how I have wanted you and Juliet," she whispered; but her +father heard her. +</p> + +<p> +"I am afraid Flurry has had a dull week of it," he said, taking a seat +beside us, and lifting the little creature to his knee. How pretty +Flurry looked in her dainty white frock, all embroidery and lace, with +knots of black ribbons against her dimpled shoulders, and her hair +flowing round her like a golden veil! Such a little fairy queen she +looked! +</p> + +<p> +"Father has been telling me stories," she observed, confidently; "they +were very pretty ones, but I think I like Juliet best. And, oh! Esther, +Flossy has broken Clementina's arm—that is your favorite doll, you +know." +</p> + +<p> +"Has Miss Cameron a doll, too?" asked Mr. Lucas, and I thought he +looked a little quizzical. +</p> + +<p> +"I always call it Esther's," returned Flurry, seriously. "She is quite +fond of it, and nurses it sometimes at lessons." +</p> + +<p> +But I could bear no more. Mrs. Smedley was listening, I was sure, and +it did sound so silly and babyish, and yet I only did it to please +Flurry. +</p> + +<p> +"I am afraid you think me very childish," I stammered, for I remembered +that game of battledore and shuttlecock, and how excited I had been +when I had achieved two hundred. But as I commenced my little speech, +with burning cheeks and a lip that would quiver with nervousness, he +quietly stopped me. +</p> + +<p> +"I think nothing to your discredit, Miss Cameron. I am too grateful to +you for making my little girl's life less lonely. I feel much happier +about her now, and so does my sister." And then, as dinner was +announced, he turned away and offered his arm to Mrs. Smedley. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Smedley took me in and sat by me, but after a few cursory +observations he left me to my own devices and talked to Miss Ruth. I +was a little disappointed at this, for I preferred him infinitely to +his wife, and I had always found his sermons very helpful; but I heard +afterward that he never liked talking to young ladies, and did not know +what to say to them. Carrie was an exception. She was too great a +favorite with them both ever to be neglected. Mr. Lucas' attention was +fully occupied by his voluble neighbor. Now and then he addressed a +word to me, that I might not feel myself slighted, but Mrs. Smedley +never seconded his efforts. +</p> + +<p> +Ever since I had refused to teach in the Sunday school she had regarded +me with much head-shaking and severity. To her I was simply a +frivolous, uninteresting young person, too headstrong to be guided. She +always spoke pityingly of "your poor sister Esther" to Carrie, as +though I were in a lamentable condition. I know she had heard of +Flurry's doll, her look was so utterly contemptuous. +</p> + +<p> +To my dismay she commenced talking to Mr. Lucas about Carrie. It was +very bad taste, I thought, with her sister sitting opposite to her; but +Carrie was Mrs. Smedley's present hobby, and she always rode her hobby +to death. No one else heard her, for they were all engaged with Miss +Ruth. +</p> + +<p> +"Such an admirable creature," she was saying, when my attention was +attracted to the conversation; "a most lovely person and mind, and yet +so truly humble. I confess I love her as though she were a daughter of +my own." Fancy being Mrs. Smedley's daughter! Happily, for their own +sakes, she had no children. "Augustus feels just the same; he thinks so +highly of her. Would you believe it, Mr. Lucas, that though she is a +daily governess like her sister," with a sharp glance at poor little +miserable me, "that that dear devoted girl takes house to house +visitation in that dreadful Nightingale lane and Rowley street?" Was it +my fancy, or did Mr. Lucas shrug his shoulders dubiously at this? As +Mrs. Smedley paused here a moment, as though she expected an answer, he +muttered, "Very praiseworthy, I am sure," in a slightly bored tone. +</p> + +<p> +"She has a class in the Sunday-school besides, and now she gives two +evenings a week to Mr. Smedley's night school. She is a pattern to all +the young ladies of the place, as I do not fail to tell them." +</p> + +<p> +Why Mr. Lucas looked at me at that moment I do not know, but something +in my face seemed to strike him, for he said, in a curious sort of +tone, that meant a great deal, if I had only understood it: +</p> + +<p> +"You do not follow in your sister's footsteps, then, Miss Cameron?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, I do not," I answered abruptly, far too abruptly, I am afraid; +"human beings cannot be like sheep jumping through a hedge—if one +jumps, they all jump, you know." +</p> + +<p> +"And you do not like that," with a little laugh, as though he were +amused. +</p> + +<p> +"No, I must be sure it is a safe gap first, and not a short cut to +nowhere," was my inexplicable response. I do not know if Mr. Lucas +understood me, for just then Miss Ruth gave the signal for the ladies +to rise. The rest of the evening was rather a tedious affair. I played +a little, but no one seemed specially impressed, and I could hear Mrs. +Smedley's voice talking loudly all the time. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Lucas did not address me again; he and Uncle Geoffrey talked +politics on the rug. The Smedleys went early, and just as we were about +to follow their example a strange thing happened; poor Miss Ruth was +taken with one of her bad attacks. +</p> + +<p> +I was very frightened, for she looked to me as though she were dying; +but Uncle Geoffrey was her doctor, and understood all about it, and +Allan quietly stood by and helped him. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Lucas rang for nurse, who always waited on Miss Ruth as well as +Flurry, but she had gone to bed with a sick headache. The housemaid was +young and awkward, and lost her head entirely, so Uncle Geoffrey sent +her away to get her mistress' room ready, and he and Allan carried Miss +Ruth up between them; and a few minutes afterward I heard Allan's +whistle, and ran out into the hall. +</p> + +<p> +"Good-night, Esther," he said, hurriedly; "I am just going to the +surgery for some medicine. Uncle Geoffrey thinks you ought to offer +your services for the night, as that girl is no manner of use; you had +better go up now." +</p> + +<p> +"But, Allan, I do not understand nursing in the least," for this +suggestion terrified me, and I wanted the walk home with Allan, and a +cozy chat when every one had gone to bed; but, to my confusion, he +merely looked at me and turned on his heel. Allan never wasted words on +these occasions; if people would not do their duty he washed his hands +of them. I could not bear him to be disappointed in me, or think me +cowardly and selfish, so I went sorrowfully up to Miss Ruth's room, and +found Uncle Geoffrey coming in search of me. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, there you are, Esther," he said, in his most business-like tone, +taking it for granted, as a matter of course, that I was going to stay. +"I want you to help Miss Lucas to get comfortably to bed; she is in +great pain, and cannot speak to you just yet; but you must try to +assist her as well as you can. When the medicine comes, I will take a +final look at her, and give you your orders." And then he nodded to me +and went downstairs. There was no help for it; I must do my little +best, and say nothing about it. +</p> + +<p> +Strange to say, I had never been in Miss Ruth's room before. I knew +where it was situated, and that its windows looked out on the garden, +but I had no idea what sort of a place it was. +</p> + +<p> +It was not large, but so prettily fitted up, and bore the stamp of +refined taste, in every minute detail. I always think a room shows the +character of its owner; one can judge in an instant, by looking round +and noticing the little ornaments and small treasured possessions. +</p> + +<p> +I once questioned Carrie rather curiously about Mrs. Smedley's room, +and she answered, reluctantly, that it was a large, bare-looking +apartment, with an ugly paper, and full of medicine chests and +work-baskets; nothing very comfortable or tasteful in its arrangements. +I knew it; I could have told her so without seeing it. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Ruth's was very different; it was perfectly crowded with pretty +things, and yet not too many of them. And such beautiful pictures hung +on the walls, most of them sacred: but evidently chosen with a view to +cheerfulness. Just opposite the bed was "The Flight into Egypt;" a +portrait of Flurry; and some sunny little landscapes, most of them +English scenes, finished the collection. There were some velvet lined +shelves, filled with old china, and some dear little Dresden +shepherdesses on the mantelpiece. A stand of Miss Ruth's favorite books +stood beside her lounge chair, and her inlaid Indian desk was beside it. +</p> + +<p> +I was glad Miss Ruth liked pretty things; it showed such charming +harmony in her character. Poor Miss Ruth, she was evidently suffering +severely, as she lay on her couch in front of the fire; her hair was +unbound, and fell in thick short lengths over her pillow, reminding me +of Flurry's soft fluff, but not quite so bright a gold. +</p> + +<p> +I was sadly frightened when I found she did not open her eyes or speak +to me. I am afraid I bungled sadly over my task, though she was quite +patient and let me do what I liked with her. It seemed terribly long +before I had her safely in her bed. When her head touched the pillows, +she raised her eyelids with difficulty. +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you," she whispered; "you have done it so nicely, dear, and have +not hurt me more than you could help," and then she motioned me to kiss +her. Dear patient Miss Ruth! +</p> + +<p> +I had got the room all straight before Uncle Geoffrey came back, and +then Mr. Lucas was with him. Miss Ruth spoke to them both, and took +hold of her brother's hand as he leaned over her. +</p> + +<p> +"Good-night, Giles; don't worry about me; Esther is going to take care +of me." She took it for granted, too. "Dr. Cameron's medicine will soon +take away the pain." +</p> + +<p> +Uncle Geoffrey's orders were very simple; I must watch her and keep up +the fire, and give her another dose if she were to awake in two hours' +time; and if the attack came on again, I must wake nurse, in spite of +her headache, as she knew what to do; and then he left me. +</p> + +<p> +"You are very good to do this," Mr. Lucas said, as he shook hands with +me. "Have you been used to nursing?" +</p> + +<p> +I told him, briefly, no; but I was wise enough not to add that I feared +I should never keep awake, in Spite of some very strong coffee Uncle +Geoffrey had ordered me; but I was so young, and with such an appetite +for sleep. +</p> + +<p> +I took out my faded flowers when they left me, said my prayers, and +drank my coffee, and then tried to read one of Miss Ruth's books, but +the letters seemed to dance before my eyes. I am afraid I had a short +doze over Hiawatha, for I had a confused idea that I was Minnehaha +laughing-water; and I thought the forest leaves were rustling round me, +when a coal dropped out of the fire and startled me. +</p> + +<p> +It woke Miss Ruth from her refreshing sleep; but the pain had left her, +and she looked quite bright and like herself. +</p> + +<p> +"I am a bad sleeper, and often lie awake until morning," she said, as I +shook up her pillows and begged her to lie down again. "No, it is no +good trying again just now, I am so dreadfully wide awake. Poor Esther! +how tired you look, being kept out of your bed in this way." And she +wanted me to curl myself up on the couch and go to sleep, but I stoutly +refused; Uncle Geoffrey had said I was to watch her until morning. When +she found I was inexorable in my resolution to keep awake, she began to +talk. +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder if you know what pain is, Esther—real positive agony?" and +when I assured her that a slight headache was the only form of +suffering I had ever known, she gave a heavy sigh. +</p> + +<p> +"How strange, how fortunate, singular too, it seems to me. No pain! +that must be a foretaste of heaven;" and she repeated, dreamily, "no +more pain there. Oh, Esther, if you knew how I long sometimes for +heaven." +</p> + +<p> +The words frightened me, somehow; they spoke such volumes of repressed +longing. "Dear Miss Ruth, why?" I asked, almost timidly. +</p> + +<p> +"Can you ask why, and see me as I am to-night?" she asked, with +scarcely restrained surprise. "If I could only bear it more patiently +and learn the lesson it is meant to teach me, 'perfect through +suffering,' the works of His chisel!" And then she softly repeated the +words, +</p> + +<p> + "Shedding soft drops of pity<br /> + Where the sharp edges of the tool have been."<br /> +</p> + +<p> +"I always loved that stanza so; it gave me the first idea I ever quite +grasped how sorry He is when He is obliged to hurt us." And as I did +not know how to answer her, she begged me to fetch the book, and she +would show me the passage for myself. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap12"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XII. +</h3> + +<h3> +I WAS NOT LIKE OTHER GIRLS. +</h3> + +<p> +I had no idea Miss Ruth could talk as she did that night. She seemed to +open her heart to me with the simplicity of a child, giving me a deeper +insight into a very lovely nature. Carrie had hitherto been my ideal, +but on this night I caught myself wondering once or twice whether +Carrie would ever exercise such patience and uncomplaining endurance +under so many crossed purposes, such broken work. +</p> + +<p> +"I was never quite like other people," she said to me when I had closed +the book; "you know I was a mere infant in my nurse's arms, when that +accident happened." I nodded, for I had heard the sad details from +Uncle Geoffrey; how an unbroken pair of young horses had shied across +the road just as the nurse who was carrying Miss Ruth was attempting to +cross it; the nurse had been knocked down and dreadfully injured, and +her little charge had been violently thrown against the curb, and it +had been thought by the doctor that one of the horses must have kicked +her. For a long time she lay in a state of great suffering, and it was +soon known that her health had sustained permanent injury. +</p> + +<p> +"I was always a crooked, stunted little thing," she went on, with a +lovely smile. "My childhood was a sad ordeal; it was just battling with +pain, and making believe that I did not mind. I used to try and bear it +as cheerfully as I could, because mother fretted so over me; but in +secret I was terribly rebellious, often I cried myself to sleep with +angry passionate tears, because I was not like other girls. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you care to hear all this?" interrupting herself to look at my +attentive face. It must have been a sufficient answer, for she went on +talking without waiting for me to speak. +</p> + +<p> +"Giles was very good to me, but it was hard on him for his only sister +to be such a useless invalid. He was active and strong, and I could not +expect to keep him chained to my couch—I was always on a couch +then—he had his friends and his cricket and football, and I could not +expect to see much of him, I had to let him go with the rest. +</p> + +<p> +"Things went on like this—outward submission and inward revolt—much +affection, but little of the grace of patience, until the eve of my +confirmation, when a stranger came to preach at the parish church. I +never heard his name before, and I never have heard it since. People +said he came from a distance; but I shall never forget that sermon to +my dying day, or the silvery penetrating voice that delivered it. +</p> + +<p> +"It was as though a message from heaven was brought straight to me, to +the poor discontented child who sat so heart weary and desponding in +the corner of the pew. I cannot oven remember the text; it was +something about the suffering of Christ, but I knew that it was +addressed to the suffering members of His church, and that he touched +upon all physical and mental pain. And what struck me most was that he +spoke of pain as a privilege, a high privilege and special training; +something that called us into a fuller and inner fellowship with our +suffering head. +</p> + +<p> +"He told us the heathen might dread pain, but not the Christian; that +one really worthy of the name must be content to be the cross bearer, +to tread really and literally in the steps of the Master. +</p> + +<p> +"What if He unfolded to us the mystery of pain? Would He not unfold the +mystery of love too? What generous souls need fear that dread ordeal, +that was to remove them from the outer to the inner court? Ought they +not to rejoice that they were found worthy to share His reproach? He +said much more than this, Esther, but memory is so weak and betrays +one. But he had flung a torch into the darkest recesses of my soul, and +the sudden light seemed to scorch and shrivel up all the discontent and +bitterness; and, oh, the peace that succeeded; it was as though a +drowning mariner left off struggling and buffeting with the waves that +were carrying him to the shore, but just lay still and let himself be +floated in." +</p> + +<p> +"And you were happier," I faltered, as she suddenly broke off, as +though exhausted. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, indeed," she returned softly. "Pain was not any more my enemy, +but the stern life companion He had sent to accompany me—the cross +that I must carry out of love to Him; oh, how different, how far more +endurable! I took myself in hand by-and-by when I grew older and had a +better judgment of things. I knew mine was a life apart, a separated +life; by that I mean that I should never know the joy of wifehood or +motherhood, that I must create my own little world, my own joys and +interests." +</p> + +<p> +"And you have done so." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I have done so; I am a believer in happiness; I am quite sure in +my mind that our beneficent Creator meant all His creatures to be +happy, that whatever He gives them to bear, that He intends them to +abide in the sunshine of His peace, and I determined to be happy. I +surrounded my-self with pretty things, with pictures that were pleasant +to the eye and recalled bright thoughts. I made my books my friends, +and held sweet satisfying communion with minds of all ages. I +cultivated music, and found intense enjoyment in the study of Handel +and Beethoven. +</p> + +<p> +"When I got a little stronger I determined to be a worker too, and +glean a little sheaf or two after the reapers, if it were only a +dropped ear now and then. +</p> + +<p> +"I took up the Senana Mission. You have no idea how important I have +grown, or what a vast correspondence I have kept up—the society begin +to find me quite useful to them—and I have dear unknown correspondents +whom I love as old friends, and whose faces I shall only see, perhaps, +when we meet in heaven. +</p> + +<p> +"When dear Florence died—that was my sister-in-law, you know—I came +to live with Giles, and to look after Flurry. I am quite a responsible +woman, having charge of the household, and trying to be a companion to +Giles; confess now, Esther, it is not such a useless life after all?" +</p> + +<p> +I do not know what I answered her. I have a dim recollection that I +burst into some extravagant eulogium or other, for she colored to her +temples and called me a foolish child, and begged me seriously never to +say such things to her again. +</p> + +<p> +"I do not deserve all that, Esther, but you are too young to judge +dispassionately; you must recollect that I have fewer temptations than +other people. If I were strong and well I might be worldly too." +</p> + +<p> +"No, never," I answered indignantly; "you would always be better than +other people, Miss Ruth—you and Carrie—oh, why are you both so good?" +with a despairing inflection in my voice. "How you must both look down +on me." +</p> + +<p> +"I know some one who is good, too," returned Miss Ruth, stroking my +hair. "I know a brave girl who works hard and wears herself out in +loving service, who is often tired and never complains, who thinks +little of herself, and yet who does much to brighten other lives, and I +think you know her too, Esther?" But I would not let her go on; it was +scant goodness to love her, and Allan, and Dot. How could any one do +otherwise? And what merit could there be in that? +</p> + +<p> +But though I disclaimed her praise, I was inwardly rejoiced that she +should think such things of me, and should judge me worthy of her +confidence. She was treating me as though I were her equal and friend, +and, to do her justice the idea of my being a governess never seemed to +enter into hers or Mr. Lucas' head. +</p> + +<p> +They always treated me from this time as a young friend, who conferred +a favor on them by coming. My salary seemed to pass into my hand with +the freedom of a gift. Perhaps it was that Uncle Geoffrey was such an +old and valued friend, and that Miss Ruth knew that in point of birth +the Camerons were far above the Lucases, for we were an old family whom +misfortune had robbed of our honors. +</p> + +<p> +However this may be, my privileges were many, and the yoke of service +lay lightly on my shoulders. Poor Carrie, indeed, had to eat the bitter +bread of dependence, and to take many a severe rebuke from her +employer. Mrs. Thorne was essentially a vulgar-minded woman. She was +affected by the adventitious adjuncts of life; dress, mere station and +wealth weighed largely in her view of things. Because we were poor, she +denied our claim to equality; because Carrie taught her children, she +snubbed and repressed her, to keep her in her place, as though Carrie +were a sort of Jack-in-the-box to be jerked back with every movement. +</p> + +<p> +When Miss Ruth called on mother, Mrs. Thorne shrugged her shoulders, +and wondered at the liberality of some people's views. When we were +asked to dinner at the Cedars (I suppose Mrs. Smedley told her, for +Carrie never gossiped), Mrs. Thorne's eye brows were uplifted in a +surprised way. Her scorn knew no bounds when she called one afternoon, +and saw Carrie seated at Miss Ruth's little tea-table; she completely +ignored her through the visit, except to ask once after her children's +lessons. Carrie took her snubbing meekly, and seemed perfectly +indifferent. Her quiet lady-like bearing seemed to impress Miss Ruth +most favorably, for when Carrie took her leave she kissed her, a thing +she had never done before. I looked across at Mrs. Thorne, and saw her +tea-cup poised half-way to her lips. She was transfixed with +astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +"I envy you your sister, Esther," said Miss Ruth, busying herself with +the silver kettle. "She is a dear girl—a very dear girl." +</p> + +<p> +"Humph!" ejaculated Mrs. Thorne. She was past words, and soon after she +took her departure in a high state of indignation and dudgeon. +</p> + +<p> +I did not go home the next day. Allan came to say good-by to me, Uncle +Geoffrey followed him, and he and Mr. Lucas both decided that I could +not be spared. Nurse was somewhat ailing, and Uncle Geoffrey had to +prescribe for her too; and as Miss Ruth recovered slowly from these +attacks, she would be very lonely, shut up in her room. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Ruth was overjoyed when I promised to stay with her as long as +they wanted me. Allan had satisfied my scruples about Jack and Dot. +</p> + +<p> +"They all think you ought to stay," he said. "Mother was the first to +decide that. Martha has promised to attend to Dot in your absence. She +grumbled a little, and so did he; but that will not matter. Jack must +look after herself," finished this very decided young man, who was apt +to settle feminine details in rather a summary fashion. +</p> + +<p> +If mother said it was my duty to remain, I need not trouble my head +about minor worries; the duty in hand, they all thought, was with Miss +Ruth, and with Miss Ruth I would stay. +</p> + +<p> +"It will be such a luxury to have you, Esther," she said, in her old +bright way. "My head is generally bad after these attacks, and I cannot +read much to myself, and with all my boasted resolution the hours do +seem very long. Flurry must spare you to me after the morning, and we +will have nice quiet times together." +</p> + +<p> +So I took possession of the little room next hers, and put away the few +necessaries that mother had sent me, with a little picture of Dot, that +he had drawn for me; but I little thought that afternoon that it would +be a whole month before I left it. +</p> + +<p> +I am afraid that long visit spoiled me a little; it was so pleasant +resuming some of the old luxuries. Instead of the cold bare room where +Jack and I slept, for, in spite of all our efforts, it did look bare in +the winter, I found a bright fire burning in my cozy little chamber, +and casting warm ruddy gleams over the white china tiles; the wax +candles stood ready for lighting on the toilet table; my dressing gown +was aging in company with my slippers; everything so snug and essential +to comfort, to the very eider-down quilt that looked so tempting. +</p> + +<p> +Then in the morning, just to dress myself and go down to the pleasant +dining-room, with the great logs spluttering out a bright welcome, and +the breakfast table loaded with many a dainty. No shivering Dot to +coerce into good humor; no feckless Jack to frown into order; no grim +Deborah to coax and help. Was it very wicked that I felt all this a +relief? Then how deliciously the days passed; the few lessons with +Flurry, more play than work; the inspiriting ramble ending generally +with a peep at mother and Dot! +</p> + +<p> +The cozy luncheons, at which Flurry and I made our dinners, where +Flurry sat in state at the bottom of the table and carved the pudding, +and gave herself small airs of consequence, and then the long quiet +afternoons with Miss Ruth. +</p> + +<p> +I used to write letters at her dictation, and read to her, not +altogether dry reading, for she dearly loved an amusing book. It was +the "Chronicles of Carlingford" we read, I remember; and how she +praised the whole series, calling them pleasant wholesome pictures of +life. We used to be quite sorry when Rhoda, the rosy-cheeked housemaid, +brought up the little brass kettle, and I had to leave off to make Miss +Ruth's tea. Mr. Lucas always came up when that was over, to sit with +his sister a little and tell her all the news of the day, while I went +down to Flurry, whom I always found seated on the library sofa, with +her white frock spreading out like wings, waiting to sit with father +while he ate his dinner. +</p> + +<p> +I always had supper in Miss Ruth's room, and never left her again till +nurse came in to put her comfortable for the night. Flurry used to run +in on her way to bed to hug us both and tell us what father had said. +</p> + +<p> +"You are father's treasure, his one ewe lamb, are you not?" said Miss +Ruth once, as she drew the child fondly toward her; and when she had +gone, running off with her merry laugh, she spoke almost with a sigh of +her brother's love for the child. +</p> + +<p> +"Giles's love for her almost resembles idolatry. The child is like him, +but she has poor Florence's eyes and her bright happy nature. I tremble +sometimes to think what would become of him if he lost her. I have +lived long enough to know that God sometimes takes away 'the desire of +a man's eyes, all that he holds most dear.'" +</p> + +<p> +"But not often," I whispered, kissing her troubled brow, for a look of +great sadness came over her face at the idea; but her words recurred to +me by-and-by when I heard a short conversation between Flurry and her +father. +</p> + +<p> +After the first fortnight Miss Ruth regained strength a little, and +though still an invalid was enabled to spend some hours downstairs. +Before I left the Cedars she had resumed all her old habits, and was +able to preside at her brother's dinner-table. +</p> + +<p> +I joined them on these occasions, both by hers and Mr. Lucas' request, +and so became better acquainted with Flurry's father. +</p> + +<p> +One Sunday afternoon I was reading in the drawing-room window, and +trying to finish my book by the failing wintry light, when Flurry's +voice caught my attention; she was sitting on a stool at her father's +feet turning over the pages of her large picture Bible. Mr. Lucas had +been dozing, I think, for there had been no conversation. Miss Ruth had +gone upstairs. +</p> + +<p> +"Father," said the little one, suddenly, in her eager voice, "I do love +that story of Isaac. Abraham was such a good man to offer up his only +son, only God stopped him, you know. I wonder what his mother would +have done if he had come home, and told her he had killed her boy. +Would she have believed him, do you think? Would she have ever liked +him again?" +</p> + +<p> +"My little Florence, what a strange idea to come into your small head." +I could tell from Mr. Lucas' tone that such an idea had never occurred +to him. What would Sarah have said as she looked upon her son's +destroyer? Would she have acquiesced in that dread obedience, that +sacrificial rite? +</p> + +<p> +"But, father dear," still persisted Flurry, "I can't help thinking +about it; it would have been so dreadful for poor Sarah. Do you think +you would have been like Abraham, father; would you have taken the +knife to slay your only child?" +</p> + +<p> +"Hush, Florence," cried her father, hoarsely, and he suddenly caught +her to him and kissed her, and bade her run away to her Aunt Ruth with +some trifling message or other. I could see her childish question +tortured him, by the strained look of his face, as he approached the +window. He had not known I was there, but when he saw me he said almost +irritably, only it was the irritability of suppressed pain: +</p> + +<p> +"What can put such thoughts in the child's head? I hope you do not let +her think too much, Miss Cameron?" +</p> + +<p> +"Most children have strange fancies," I returned, quietly. "Flurry has +a vivid imagination; she thinks more deeply than you could credit at +her age; she often surprises me by the questions she asks. They show an +amount of reasoning power that is very remarkable." +</p> + +<p> +"Let her play more," he replied, in a still more annoyed voice. "I hate +prodigies; I would not have Flurry an infant phenomenon for the world. +She has too much brain-power; she is too excitable; you must keep her +back Miss Cameron." +</p> + +<p> +"I will do what I can," I returned humbly; and then, as he still looked +anxious and ill at ease, I went on, "I do not think you need trouble +about Flurry's precocity; children often say these things. Dot, my +little brother—Frankie, I mean—would astonish you with some of his +remarks. And then there was Jack," warming up with my subject; "Jack +used to talk about harps and angels in the most heavenly way, till +mother cried and thought she would die young; and look at Jack now—a +strong healthy girl, without an ounce of imagination." I could see Mr. +Lucas smile quietly to himself in the dusk, for he knew Jack, and had +made more than one quizzical remark on her; but I think my observation +comforted him a little, for he said no more, only when Flurry returned +he took her on his knees and told her about a wonderful performing +poodle he had seen, as a sort of pleasant interlude after her severe +Biblical studies. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap13"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XIII. +</h3> + +<h3> +"WE HAVE MISSED DAME BUSTLE." +</h3> + +<p> +One other conversation lingered long in my memory, and it took place on +my last evening at the Cedars. On the next day I was going home to +mother and Dot, and yet I sighed! Oh, Esther, for shame! +</p> + +<p> +It was just before dinner. Miss Ruth had been summoned away to see an +old servant of the family, and Flurry had run after her. Mr. Lucas was +standing before the fire, warming himself after the manner of +Englishmen, and I sat at Miss Ruth's little table working at a fleecy +white shawl, that I was finishing to surprise mother. +</p> + +<p> +There was a short silence between us, for though I was less afraid of +Mr. Lucas than formerly, I never spoke to him unless he addressed me; +but, looking up from my work a moment, I saw him contemplating me in a +quiet, thoughtful way, but he smiled pleasantly when our eyes met. +</p> + +<p> +"This is your last evening, I think, Miss Cameron?" +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed it is," I returned, with a short sigh. +</p> + +<p> +"You are sorry to leave us?" he questioned, very kindly; for I think he +had heard the sigh. +</p> + +<p> +"I ought not to be sorry," I returned, stoutly; "for I am going home." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! and home means everything with you!" +</p> + +<p> +"It means a great deal," knitting furiously, for I was angry at myself +for being so sorry to leave; "but Miss Ruth has been so good to me that +she has quite spoiled me. I shall not be half so fit for all the hard +work I have at home. +</p> + +<p> +"That is a pity," he returned, slowly, as though he were revolving not +my words, but some thoughts in his own mind. "Do you know I was +thinking of something when you looked up just now. I was wondering why +you should not remain with us altogether." I put down my knitting at +that, and looked him full in the face; I was so intensely surprised at +his words. "You and my sister are such friends; it would be pleasant +for her to have you for a constant companion, for I am often busy and +tired, and——" He paused as though he would have added something, but +thought better of it. "And she is much alone. A young lively girl would +rouse her and do her good, and Flurry would be glad of you." +</p> + +<p> +"I should like it very much," I returned, hesitatingly, "if it were not +for mother and Dot." Just for the moment the offer dazzled me and +blinded my common sense. Always to occupy my snug little pink chamber; +to sit with Miss Ruth in this warm, luxurious drawing-room; to be +waited on, petted, spoiled, as Miss Ruth always spoiled people. No +wonder such a prospect allured a girl of seventeen. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, they will do without you," he returned, with a man's indifference +to female argument. He and Allan were alike in the facility with which +they would knock over one's pet theories. "You are like other young +people, Miss Cameron; you think the world cannot get on without you. +When you are older you will get rid of this idea," he continued, +turning amused eyes on my youthful perplexity. "It is only the young +who think one cannot do without them," finished this worldly-wise +observer of human nature. +</p> + +<p> +Somehow that stung me and put me on my mettle, and in a moment I had +arrayed the whole of my feeble forces against so arbitrary an +arrangement of my destiny. +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot help what other young people think," I said, in rather a +perverse manner; "they may be wise or foolish as they like, but I am +sure of one thing, that mother and Dot cannot do without me." +</p> + +<p> +I am afraid my speech was rather rude and abrupt, but Mr. Lucas did not +seem to mind it. His eyes still retained their amused twinkle, but he +condescended to argue the point more seriously with me, and sat down in +Miss Ruth's low chair, as though to bring himself more on a level with +me. +</p> + +<p> +"Let me give you a piece of advice, Miss Cameron; never be too sure of +anything. Granted that your mother will miss you very badly at first (I +can grant you that, if you like), but there is your sister to console +her; and that irresistible Jack—how can your mother, a sensible woman +in her way, let a girl go through life with such a name?" +</p> + +<p> +"She will not answer to any other,"' I returned, half offended at this +piece of plain speaking; but it was true we had tried Jacqueline, and +Lina, and Jack had always remained obstinately deaf. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, well, she will get wiser some day, when she grows into a woman; +she will take more kindly to a sensible name then; but as I was saying, +your mother may miss you, but all the same she may be thankful to have +you so well established and in so comfortable a position. You will be a +member of the family, and be treated as well as my sister herself; and +the additional salary may be welcome just now, when there are +school-bills to pay." +</p> + +<p> +It seemed clear common sense, put in that way, but not for one instant +would I entertain such a proposition seriously. The more tempting it +looked, the more I distrusted it. Mr. Lucas might be worldly-wise, but +here I knew better than he. Would a few pounds more reconcile mother to +my vacant place, or cheer Dot's blank face when he knew Esther had +deserted him? +</p> + +<p> +"You are very good," I said, trying to keep myself well in hand, and to +speak quietly—but now my cheeks burned with the effort; "and I thank +you very much for your kind thought, but——" +</p> + +<p> +"Give me no buts," he interrupted, smiling; "and don't thank me for a +piece of selfishness, for I was thinking most of my sister and Flurry." +</p> + +<p> +"But all the same I must thank you," I returned, firmly; "and I would +like you to believe how happy I should have been if I could have done +this conscientiously." +</p> + +<p> +"It is really so impossible?" still incredulously. +</p> + +<p> +"Really and truly, Mr. Lucas. I am worth little to other people, I +know, but in their estimation I am worth much. Dot would fret badly; +and though mother would make the best of it—she always does—she would +never get over the missing, for Carrie is always busy, and Jack is so +young, and——" +</p> + +<p> +"There is the dinner bell, and Ruth still chattering with old nurse. +That is the climax of our argument. I dare say no more, you are so +terribly in earnest, Miss Cameron, and so evidently believe all you +say; but all the same, mothers part with their daughters sometimes, +very gladly, too, under other circumstances; but there, we will let the +subject drop for the present." And then he looked again at me with +kindly amused eyes, refusing to take umbrage at my obstinacy; and then, +to my relief, Miss Ruth interrupted us. +</p> + +<p> +I felt rather extinguished for the rest of the evening. I did not dare +tell Miss Ruth, for fear she would upbraid me for my refusal. I knew +she would side with her brother, and would think I could easily be +spared from home. And if Carrie would only give up her parish work, and +fit into the niche of the daughter of the house, she could easily +fulfill all my duties. If—a great big "if" it was—an "if" that would +spoil Carrie's life, and destroy all those sweet solemn hopes of hers. +No, no; I must not entertain such a thought for a moment. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Lucas had spoiled my last evening for me, and I think he knew it, +for he came to my side as I was putting away my work, and spoke a few +contrite words. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't let our talk worry you," he said, in so low a voice that Miss +Ruth could not hear his words. "I am sure you were quite right to +decide as you did—judging from your point of view, I mean, for of +course I hold a different opinion. If you ever see fit to change your +decision, you must promise to come and tell me." And of course I +promised unhesitatingly. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Ruth followed me to my room, and stood by the fire a few minutes. +</p> + +<p> +"You look grave to-night, Esther, and I flatter myself that it is +because you are sorry that your visit has come to an end." +</p> + +<p> +"And you are right," I returned, throwing my arms round her light +little figure. Oh, how dearly I had grown to love her! "I would like to +be always with you, Miss Ruth; to wait upon you and be your servant. +Nothing would be beneath me—nothing. You are fond of me a little, are +you not?" for somehow I craved for some expression of affection on this +last night. Miss Ruth was very affectionate, but a little +undemonstrative sometimes in manner. +</p> + +<p> +"I am very fond of you, Esther," she replied, turning her sweet eyes to +me, "and I shall miss my kind, attentive nurse more than I can say. +Poor Nurse Gill is getting quite jealous of you. She says Flurry is +always wild to get to her playfellow, and will not stay with her if she +can help it, and that now I can easily dispense with her services for +myself. I had to smooth her down, Esther; the poor old creature quite +cried about it, but I managed to console her at last." +</p> + +<p> +"I was always afraid that Mrs. Gill did not like me," I returned, in a +pained voice, for somehow I always disliked hurting people's feelings. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, she likes you very much; you must not think that. She says Miss +Cameron is a very superior young lady, high in manner, and quite the +gentlewoman. I think nurse's expression was 'quite the lady, Miss +Ruth.'" +</p> + +<p> +"I have never been high in manner to her," I laughed. "We have a fine +gossip sometimes over the nursery fire. I like Mrs. Gill, and would not +injure her feelings for the world. She is so kind to Dot, too, when he +comes to play with Flurry." +</p> + +<p> +"Poor little man, he will be glad to get his dear Esther back," she +returned, in a sympathizing voice; and then she bade me good-night, and +begged me to hasten to bed, as St. Barnabas had just chimed eleven. +</p> + +<p> +I woke the next morning with a weight upon me, as though I were +expecting some ordeal; and though I scolded myself vigorously for my +moral cowardice, and called myself a selfish, lazy girl, I could not +shake off the feeling. +</p> + +<p> +Never had Miss Ruth seemed so dear to me as she had that day. As the +hour approached for my departure I felt quite unhappy at the thought of +even leaving her for those few hours. +</p> + +<p> +"We shall see you in the morning," she said, quite cheerfully, as I +knelt on the rug, drawing on my warm gloves. I fancied she noticed my +foolish, unaccountable depression, and would not add to it by any +expression of regret. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, yes," I returned, with a sort of sigh, as I glanced round the room +where I had passed the evenings so pleasantly of late, and thought of +the mending basket at home. I was naughty, I confess it; there were +absolutely tears in my eyes, as I ran out into the cold dusk of a +February evening. +</p> + +<p> +The streets were wet and gleaming, the shop lights glimmered on pools +of rain-water; icy drops pattered down on my face; the brewers' horses +steamed as they passed with the empty dray; the few foot passengers in +High street shuffled along as hastily as they could; even Polly +Pattison's rosy face looked puckered up with cold as she put up the +shutters of the Dairy. +</p> + +<p> +Uncle Geoffrey's voice hailed me on the doorstep. +</p> + +<p> +"Here you are, little woman. Welcome home! We have missed Dame Bustle +dreadfully;" and as he kissed me heartily I could not help stroking his +rough, wet coat sleeve in a sort of penitent way. +</p> + +<p> +"Have you really missed me? It is good of you to say so, Uncle Geoff." +</p> + +<p> +"The house has not felt the same," he returned, pushing me in before +him, and bidding me shake my cloak as I took it off in the passage. +</p> + +<p> +And then the door opened, and dear mother came out to help me. As I +felt her gentle touch, and heard Dot's feeble "Hurrah! here is Esther!" +the uncomfortable, discontented feelings vanished, and my better self +regained the mastery. Yes, it was homely and shabby; but oh! so sunny +and warm! I forgot Miss Ruth when Dot's beautiful little face raised +itself from the cushions of the sofa, on which I had placed him, and he +put his arms round me as I knelt down beside him, and whispered that +his back was bad, and his legs felt funny, and he was so glad I was +home again, for Martha was cross, and had hard scrubby hands, and hurt +him often, though she did not mean it. This and much more did Dot +whisper in his childish confidence. +</p> + +<p> +Then Jack came flying in, with Smudge, as usual, in her arms, and a +most tumultuous welcome followed. And then came Carrie, with her soft +kiss and few quiet words. I thought she looked paler and thinner than +when I left home, but prettier than ever; and she, too, seemed pleased +to see me. I took off my things as quickly as I could—not stopping to +look round the somewhat disorderly room, where Jack had worked her +sweet will for the last month—and joined the family at the tea-table. +And afterward I sat close to mother, and talked to her as I mended one +of Dot's shirts. +</p> + +<p> +Now and then my thoughts strayed to a far different scene—to a room +lighted up with wax candles in silver sconces, and the white china lamp +that always stood on Miss Ruth's little table. +</p> + +<p> +I could see in my mind's eye the trim little figure in black silk and +lace ruffles, the diamonds gleaming on the small white hands. Flurry +would be on the rug in her white frock, playing with the Persian +kittens; most likely her father would be watching her from his armchair. +</p> + +<p> +I am afraid I answered mother absently, for, looking up, I caught her +wistful glance at me. Carrie was at her night school, and Uncle +Geoffrey had been called out. Jack was learning her lessons in the +front parlor, and only Dot kept us company. +</p> + +<p> +"You must find it very different from the Cedars," she said, +regretfully; "all that luxury must have spoiled you for home, Esther. +Don't think I am complaining, my love, if I say you seem a little dull +to-night." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, mother!" flushing up to my temples with shame and irritation at +her words; and then another look at the worn face under the widow's cap +restrained my momentary impatience. Dot, who was watching us, struck in +in his childish way. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you like the Cedars best, Essie? Would you rather be with Flurry +than me?" +</p> + +<p> +My own darling! The bare idea was heresy, and acted on me like a moral +<i>douche</i>. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! mother and Dot," I said, "how can you both talk so? I am not +spoiled—I refuse to be spoiled. I love the Cedars, but I love my own +dear little home best." And at this moment I believed my own words. +"Dot, how can you be so faithless—how could I love Flurry best? And +what would Allan say? You are our own little boy, you know; he said so, +and you belong to us both." And Dot's childish jealousy vanished. As +for dear mother, she smiled at me in a sweet, satisfied way. +</p> + +<p> +"That is like our own old Esther. You were so quiet all tea-time, my +dear, that I fancied something was amiss. It is so nice having you +working beside me again," she went on, with a little gentle artifice. +"I have missed your bright talk so much in the evenings." +</p> + +<p> +"Has Carrie been out much?" I asked; but I knew what the answer would +be. +</p> + +<p> +"Generally three evenings in the week," returned mother, with a sigh, +"and her home evenings have been so engrossed of late. Mrs. Smedley +gives her all sorts of things to do—mending and covering books; I +hardly knew what." +</p> + +<p> +"Carrie never sings to us now," put in Dot. +</p> + +<p> +"She is too tired, that is what she always says; but I cannot help +thinking a little music would be a healthy relaxation for her; but she +will have it that with her it is waste of time," said mother. +</p> + +<p> +Waste of time to sing to mother! I broke my thread in two with +indignation at the thought. Yes, I was wanted at home, I could see +that; Deborah told me so in her taciturn way, when I went to the +kitchen to speak to her and Martha. +</p> + +<p> +I had sad work with my room before I slept that night, when Jack was +fast asleep; and I was tired out when I crept shivering into my cold +bed. I hardly seemed to have slept an hour before I saw Martha's +unlovely face bending over me with the flaming candle, so different +from Miss Ruth's trim maid. +</p> + +<p> +"Time to get up, Miss Esther, if you are going to dress Master Dot +before breakfast. It is mortal cold, to be sure, and raw as raw; but I +have brought you a cup of hot tea, as you seemed a bit down last night." +</p> + +<p> +The good creature! I could have hugged her in my girlish gratitude. The +tea was a delicious treat, and put new heart into me. I was quite fresh +and rested when I went into Dot's little room. He opened his eyes +widely when he saw me. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Esther! is it really you, and not that ugly old Martha?" he cried +out, joyfully. "I do hate her, to be sure. I will be a good boy, and +you shall not have any trouble." And thereupon he fell to embracing me +as though he would never leave off. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap14"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XIV. +</h3> + +<h3> +PLAYING IN TOM TIDLER'S GROUND. +</h3> + +<p> +We had had an old-fashioned winter—weeks of frost to delight the +hearts of the young skaters of Milnthorpe; clear, cold bracing days, +that made the young blood in our veins tingle with the sense of new +life and buoyancy; long, dark winter evenings, when we sat round the +clear, red fire, and the footsteps of the few passengers under our +window rang with a sort of metallic sound on the frozen pavements. +</p> + +<p> +What a rush of cold air when the door opened, what snow-powdered +garments we used to bring into Deborah's spotless kitchen! Dot used to +shiver away from my kisses, and put up a little mittened hand to ward +me off. "You are like a snow-woman, Essie," he would say. "Your face is +as hard and cold and red as one of the haws Flurry brought me." +</p> + +<p> +"She looks as blooming as a rose in June," Uncle Geoffrey answered +once, when he heard Dot's unflattering comparison. "Be off, lassie, and +take off those wet boots;" but as I closed the door he added to mother, +"Esther is improving, I think; she is less angular, and with that clear +fresh color she looks quite bonnie." +</p> + +<p> +"Quite bonnie." Oh, Uncle Geoffrey, you little knew how that speech +pleased me. +</p> + +<p> +Winter lasted long that year, and then came March, rough and boisterous +and dull as usual, with its cruel east wind and the dust, "a peck of +which was worth a king's ransom," as father used to say. +</p> + +<p> +Then came April, variable and bright, with coy smiles forever +dissolving in tears; and then May in full blossom and beauty giving +promise of summer days. +</p> + +<p> +We used to go out in the lanes, Flurry and I, to gather the spring +flowers that Miss Ruth so dearly loved. We made a primrose basket once +for her room, and many a cowslip ball for Dot, and then there were +dainty little bunches of violets for mother and Carrie, only Carrie +took hers to a dying girl in Nightingale lane. +</p> + +<p> +The roads round Milnthorpe were so full of lovely things hidden away +among the mosses, that I proposed to Flurry that we should collect +basketsful for Carrie's sick people. Miss Ruth was delighted with the +idea, and asked Jack and Dot to join us, and we all drove down to a +large wood some miles from the town, and spent the whole of the spring +afternoon playing in a new Tom Tidler's ground, picking up gold and +silver. The gold lay scattered broadcast on the land, in yellow patches +round the trunks of trees, or beyond in the gleaming meadows; and we +worked until the primroses lay heaped up in the baskets in wild +confusion, and until our eyes ached with the yellow gleam. I could hear +Dot singing softly to himself as he picked industriously. When he and +Flurry got tired they seated themselves like a pair of happy little +birds on the low bough of a tree. I could hear them twittering softly +to each other, as they swung, with their arms interlaced, backward and +forward in the sunlight; now and then I caught fragments of their talk. +</p> + +<p> +"We shall have plenty of flowers to pick in heaven," Dot was saying as +I worked near them. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, lots," returned Flurry, in an eager voice, "red and white roses, +and lilies of the valley, miles of them—millions and millions, for all +the little children, you know. What a lot of children there will be, +Dot, and how nice to do nothing but play with them, always and forever." +</p> + +<p> +"We must sing hymns, you know," returned Dot, with a slight hesitation +in his voice. Being a well brought up little boy, he was somewhat +scandalized by Flurry's views; they sounded somewhat earthly and +imperfect. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, we can sing as we play," observed Flurry, irreverently; she was +not at all in a heavenly mood this afternoon. "We can hang up our +harps, as they do in the Psalms, you know, and just gather flowers as +long as we like." +</p> + +<p> +"It is nice to think one's back won't ache so much over it, there," +replied poor Dot, who was quite weak and limp from his exertions. "One +of the best things about heaven is, though it all seems nice enough, +that we shan't be tired. Think of that, Flurry—never to be tired!" +</p> + +<p> +"I am never tired, though I am sleepy sometimes," responded Flurry, +with refreshing candor, "You forget the nicest part, you silly boy, +that it will never be dark. How I do hate the dark, to be sure." +</p> + +<p> +Dot opened his eyes widely at this. "Do you?" he returned, in an +astonished voice; "that is because you are a girl, I suppose. I never +thought much about it. I think it is nice and cozy when one is tucked +up in bed. I always imagine the day is as tired as I am, and that she +has been put to bed too, in a nice, warm, dark blanket." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, you funny Dot," crowed Flurry. But she would not talk any more +about heaven; she was in wild spirits, and when she had swung enough +she commenced pelting Dot with primroses. Dot bore it stoutly for +awhile, until he could resist no longer, and there was a flowery battle +going on under the trees. +</p> + +<p> +It was quite late in the day when the tired children arrived home. +</p> + +<p> +Carrie fairly hugged Dot when the overflowing baskets were placed at +her feet. +</p> + +<p> +"These are for all the sick women and little children," answered Dot, +solemnly; "we worked so hard, Flurry and I." +</p> + +<p> +"You are a darling," returned Carrie, dimpling with pleasure. +</p> + +<p> +I believe this was the sweetest gift we could have made her. Nothing +for herself would have pleased her half so much. She made Jack and me +promise to help her carry them the next day, and we agreed, nothing +loth. We had quite a festive afternoon in Nightingale lane. +</p> + +<p> +I had never been with Carrie before in her rounds, and I was +wonderfully struck with her manner to the poor folk; there was so much +tact, such delicate sympathy in all she said and did. I could see surly +faces soften and rough voices grow silent as she addressed them in her +simple way. Knots of boys and men dispersed to let her pass. +</p> + +<p> +"Bless her sweet face!" I heard one old road-sweeper say; and all the +children seemed to crowd round her involuntarily, and yet, with the +exception of Dot, she had never seemed to care for children. +</p> + +<p> +I watched her as she moved about the squalid rooms, arranging the +primroses in broken bowls, and even teacups, with a sort of ministering +grace I had never noticed in her before. Mother had always praised her +nursing. She said her touch was so soft and firm, and her movement so +noiseless; and she had once advised me to imitate her in this; and as I +saw the weary eyes brighten and the languid head raise itself on the +pillow at her approach, I could not but own that Carrie was in her +natural sphere. +</p> + +<p> +As we returned home with our empty baskets, she told us a great deal +about her district, and seemed grateful to us for sharing her pleasure. +Indeed, I never enjoyed a talk with Carrie more; I never so thoroughly +entered into the interest of her work. +</p> + +<p> +One June afternoon, when I returned home a little earlier than usual, +for Flurry had been called down to go out with her father, I found Miss +Ruth sitting with mother. +</p> + +<p> +I had evidently disturbed a most engrossing conversation, for mother +looked flushed and a little excited, as she always did when anything +happened out of the common, and Miss Ruth had the amused expression I +knew so well. +</p> + +<p> +"You are earlier than usual, my dear," said mother, with an odd little +twitch of the lip, as though something pleased her. But here Dot, who +never could keep a secret for five minutes, burst out in his shrill +voice: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Essie, what do you think? You will never believe it—you and I and +Flurry are going to Roseberry for six whole weeks." +</p> + +<p> +"You have forgotten me, you ungrateful child," returned Miss Ruth in a +funny tone; "I am nobody, I suppose, so long as you get your dear +Esther and Flurry." +</p> + +<p> +Dot was instinctively a little gentleman. He felt he had made a +mistake; so he hobbled up to Miss Ruth, and laid his hand on hers: "We +couldn't do without you—could we, Essie?" he said in a coaxing voice. +"Esther does not like ordering dinners; she often says so, and she +looks ready to cry when Deb brings her the bills. It will be ever so +much nicer to have Miss Ruth, won't it, Esther?" But I was too +bewildered to answer him. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, mother, is it really true? Can you really spare us, and for six +whole weeks? Oh, it is too delightful! But Carrie, does she not want +the change more than I?" +</p> + +<p> +I don't know why mother and Miss Ruth exchanged glances at this; but +mother said rather sadly: +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Lucas has been good enough to ask your sister, Esther; she +thought you might perhaps take turns; but I am sorry to say Carrie will +not hear of it. She says it will spoil your visit, and that she cannot +be spared." +</p> + +<p> +"Our parochial slave-driver is going out of town," put in Miss Ruth +dryly. She could be a little sarcastic sometimes when Mrs. Smedley's +name was implied. In her inmost heart she had no more love than I for +the bustling lady. +</p> + +<p> +"She is going to stay with her niece at Newport, and so her poor little +subaltern, Carrie, cannot be absent from her post. One day I mean to +give a piece of my mind to that good lady," finished Miss Ruth, with a +malicious sparkle in her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, it's no use talking," sighed mother, and there was quite a +hopeless inflection in her voice. "Carrie is a little weak, in spite of +her goodness. She is like her mother in that—the strongest mind +governs her. I have no chance against Mrs. Smedley." +</p> + +<p> +"It is a shame," I burst out; but Miss Ruth rose from her chair, still +smiling. +</p> + +<p> +"You must restrain your indignation till I have gone, Esther," she +said, in mock reproof. "Your mother and I have done all we could, and +have coaxed and scolded for the last half-hour. The Smedley influence +is too strong for us. Never mind, I have captured you and Dot; +remember, you must be ready for us on Monday week;" and with that she +took her departure. +</p> + +<p> +Mother followed me up to my room, on pretense of looking over Jack's +things, but in reality she wanted a chat with me. +</p> + +<p> +The dear soul was quite overjoyed at the prospect of my holiday; she +mingled lamentations over Carrie's obstinacy with expressions of +pleasure at the treat in store for Dot and me. +</p> + +<p> +"And you will not be lonely without us, mother?" +</p> + +<p> +"My dear, how could I be so selfish! Think of the benefit the sea air +will be to Dot! And then, I can trust him so entirely to you." And +thereupon she began an anxious inquiry as to the state of my wardrobe, +which lasted until the bell rang. +</p> + +<p> +But, in spite of the delicious anticipations that filled me, I was not +wholly satisfied, and when mother had said good-night to us I detained +Carrie. +</p> + +<p> +She came back a little reluctantly, and asked me what I wanted with +her. She looked tired, almost worn out, and the blue veins were far too +perceptible on the smooth, white forehead. I noticed for the first time +a hollowness about the temples; the marked restlessness of an +over-conscientious mind was wearing out the body; the delicacy of her +look filled me with apprehension. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Carrie!" I said, vehemently, "you are not well; this hot weather +is trying you. Do listen to me, darling. I don't want to vex you, but +you must promise me to come to Roseberry." +</p> + +<p> +To my surprise she drew back with almost a frightened look on her face; +well, not that exactly, but a sort of scared, bewildered expression. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't, Esther. Why will none of you give me any peace? Is it not +enough that mother and Miss Lucas have been talking to me, and now you +must begin! Do you know how much it costs me to stand firm against you +all? You distress me, you wear me out with your talk." +</p> + +<p> +"Why cannot we convince you?" I returned, with a sort of despair. "You +are mother's daughter, not Mrs. Smedley's: you owe no right of +obedience to that woman." +</p> + +<p> +"How you all hate her!" she sighed. "I must look for no sympathy from +any of you—your one thought is to thwart me in every way." +</p> + +<p> +"Carrie!" I almost gasped, for she looked and spoke so unlike herself. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't mean to be unkind," she replied in a softening tone; "I +suppose you all mean it for the best. Once for all, Esther, I cannot +come to Roseberry. I have promised Mrs. Smedley to look after things in +her absence, and nothing would induce me to forfeit my trust." +</p> + +<p> +"You could write to her and say you were not well," I began; but she +checked me almost angrily. +</p> + +<p> +"I am well, I am quite well; if I long for rest, if the prospect of a +little change would be delightful, I suppose I could resist even these +temptations. I am not worse than many other girls; I have work to do, +and must do it. No fears of possible breakdowns shall frighten me from +my duty. Go and enjoy your holiday, and do not worry about me, Esther." +And then she kissed me, and took up her candle. +</p> + +<p> +I was sadly crestfallen, but no arguments could avail, I thought; and +so I let her go from me. And yet if I had known the cause of her sudden +irritability, I should not so soon have given up all hope. I little +knew how sorely she was tempted; how necessary some brief rest and +change of scene was to her overwrought nerves. If I had only been +patient and pleaded with her, I think I must have persuaded her; but, +alas! I never knew how nearly she had yielded. +</p> + +<p> +There was no sleep for Dot that night. I found him in a fever of +excitement, thumping his hot pillows and flinging himself about in vain +efforts to get cool. It was no good scolding him; he had these +sleepless fits sometimes; so I bathed his face and hands, and sat down +beside him, and laid my head against the pillow, hoping that he would +quiet down by-and-by. But nothing would prevent his talking. +</p> + +<p> +"I wish I were out with the flowers in the garden," he said; "I think +it is stupid being tucked up in bed in the summer. Allan is not in bed, +is he? He says he is often called up, and has to cross the quadrangle +to go to a great bare room where they bind up broken heads. Should you +like to be a doctor, Essie?" +</p> + +<p> +"If I were a man," I returned, confidently, "I should be either a +clergyman or a doctor; they are the grandest and noblest of +professions. One is a cure of bodies, and the other is a cure of souls." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, but they hurt people," observed Dot, shrinking a little; "they +have horrid instruments they carry about with them." +</p> + +<p> +"They only hurt people for their own good, you silly little boy. Think +of all the dark sick rooms they visit, and the poor, helpless people +they comfort. They spend their lives doing good, healing dreadful +diseases, and relieving pain." +</p> + +<p> +"I think Allan's life will be more useful than Fred's," observed Dot. +Poor little boy! Constant intercourse with grown-up people was making +him precocious. He used to say such sharp, shrewd things sometimes. +</p> + +<p> +I sighed a little when he spoke of Fred. I could imagine him loitering +through life in his velveteen coat, doing little spurts of work, but +never settling down into thorough hard work. +</p> + +<p> +Allan's descriptions of his life were not very encouraging. His last +letter to me spoke a little dubiously about Fred's prospects. +</p> + +<p> +"He is just a drawing-master, and nothing else," wrote Allan. "Uncle +Geoffrey's recommendations have obtained admittance for him into one or +two good houses, and I hear he has hopes of Miss Hemming's school in +Bayswater. Not a very enlivening prospect for our elegant Fred! Fancy +that very superior young man sinking into a drawing-master! So much for +the hanging committee and the picture that is to represent the Cameron +genius. +</p> + +<p> +"I went down to Acacia road on Thursday evening, and dimly perceived +Fred across an opaque cloud of tobacco smoke. He and some kindred +spirits were talking art jargon in this thick atmosphere. +</p> + +<p> +"Fred looked a Bohemian of Bohemians in his gaudy dressing-gown and +velvet smoking-cap. His hair is longer than ever, and he has become +aesthetic in his tastes. There was broken china enough to stock a small +shop. I am afraid I am rather too much a Philistine for their notions. +I got some good downright stares and shrugs over my tough John Bull +tendencies. +</p> + +<p> +"Tell mother Fred is all right, and keeping out of debt, and so one +must not mind a few harmless vagaries." +</p> + +<p> +"Broken china, indeed!" muttered Uncle Geoff when I had finished +reading this clause. "Broken fiddlesticks! Why, the lad must be weak in +his head to spend his money on such rubbish." Uncle Geoffrey was never +very civil to Fred. +</p> + +<p> +Dot did not say any more, and I began a long story, to keep his tongue +quiet. As it was purposely uninteresting, and told in a monotonous +voice, it soon had the effect of making him drowsy. When I reached this +point, I stole softly from the room. It was bright moonlight when I lay +down in bed, and all night long I dreamed of a rippling sea and broad +sands, over which Dot and I were walking, hand in hand. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap15"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XV. +</h3> + +<h3> +LIFE AT THE BRAMBLES. +</h3> + +<p> +It was a lovely evening when we arrived at Roseberry. +</p> + +<p> +"We lead regular hermit lives at the Brambles, away from the haunts of +men," observed Miss Ruth; but I was too much occupied to answer her. +Dot and I were peeping through the windows of the little omnibus that +was conveying us and our luggage to the cottage. Miss Ruth had a pretty +little pony carriage for country use; but she would not have it sent to +the station to meet us—the omnibus would hold us all, she said. Nurse +could go outside; the other two servants who made up the modest +establishment at the Brambles had arrived the previous day. +</p> + +<p> +Roseberry was a straggling little place, without much pretension to +gentility. A row of white lodging-houses, with green verandas, looked +over the little parade; there was a railed-in green enclosure before +the houses, where a few children played. +</p> + +<p> +Half a dozen bathing-machines were drawn up on the beach; beyond was +the Preventive station, and the little white cottages where the +Preventive men lived, with neat little gardens in front. +</p> + +<p> +The town was rather like Milnthorpe, for it boasted only one long +street. A few modest shops, the Blue Boar Inn, and a bow-windowed +house, with "Library" painted on it in large characters, were mixed up +with pleasant-looking dwelling houses. The little gray church was down +a country road, and did not look as though it belonged to the town, but +the schools were in High street. Beyond Roseberry were the great +rolling downs. +</p> + +<p> +We had left the tiny parade and the lodging houses behind us, and our +little omnibus seemed jolting over the beach—I believe they called it +a road but it was rough and stony, and seemed to lead to the shore. It +was quite a surprise when we drove sharply round a low rocky point, and +came upon a low gray cottage, with a little garden running down to the +beach. +</p> + +<p> +Truly a hermit's abode, the Brambles; not another house in sight; low, +white chalky cliffs, with the green downs above them, and, far as we +could see, a steep beach, with long fringes of yellow sands, with the +grey sea breaking softly in the distance, for it was low tide, and the +sun had set. +</p> + +<p> +"Is this too lonely for you, Esther?" asked Miss Ruth, as we walked up +the pebbly path to the porch. It was a deep stone porch, with seats on +either side, and its depth gave darkness to the little square hall, +with its stone fireplace and oak settles. +</p> + +<p> +"What a delicious place!" was my answer, as I followed her from one +room into another. The cottage was a perfect nest of cozy little rooms, +all very tiny, and leading into each other. +</p> + +<p> +There was a snug dining-room that led into Mr. Lucas' study, and beyond +that two little drawing-rooms, very small, and simply though prettily +furnished. They were perfect summer rooms, with their Indian matting +and muslin curtains, with wicker chairs and lounges, and brackets with +Miss Ruth's favorite china. +</p> + +<p> +Upstairs the arrangements were just as simple; not a carpet was to be +seen, only dark polishes floors and strips of Indian matting, cool +chintz coverings, and furniture of the simplest maple and pine wood—a +charming summer retreat, fitted up with unostentatious taste. There was +a tiny garden at the back, shut in by a low chalk cliff, a rough zigzag +path that goats might have climbed led to the downs, and there was a +breach where we could enjoy the sweet air and wide prospect. +</p> + +<p> +It was quite a cottage garden. All the old-fashioned flowers bloomed +there; little pink cabbage roses, Turks-caps, lilies, lupins, and +monkshood and columbines. Everlasting peas and scarlet-runners ran +along the wall, and wide-lipped convolvuli, scarlet weeds of poppies +flaunted beside the delicate white harebells, sweet-william and +gillyflowers, and humble southernwood, and homely pinks and fragrant +clove carnations, and pansies of every shade in purple and golden +patches. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Essie, it reminds me of our cottage; why, there are the lilies and +the beehives, and there is the porch where you said you should sit on +summer evenings and mend Allan's socks." And Dot leaned on his crutches +and looked round with bright wide-open eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Our little dream cottage; well, it was not unlike it, only the sea and +the downs and the low chalk cliffs were added. How Dot and I grew to +love that garden! There was an old medlar tree, very gnarled and +crooked, under which Miss Ruth used to place her little tea-table; the +wicker chairs were brought out and there we often used to spend our +afternoons, with little blue butterflies hovering round us, and the +bees humming among the sweet thyme and marjoram, and sometimes an +adventurous sheep looking down on us from the cliff. +</p> + +<p> +We led a perfect gypsy life at the Brambles; no one called on us, the +vicar of Roseberry was away, and a stranger had taken his duty; no +interloper from the outer world broke the peaceful monotony of our +days, and the sea kept up its plaintive music night and day, and the +larks sang to us, and the busy humming of insect life made an undertone +of melody, and in early mornings the little garden seemed steeped in +dew and fragrance. We used to rise early, and after breakfast Flurry +and I bathed. There was a little bathing-room beyond the cottage with a +sort of wooden bridge running over the beach, and there Flurry and I +would disport ourselves like mermaids. +</p> + +<p> +After a brisk run on the sands or over the downs, we joined Miss Ruth +on the beach, where we worked and talked, or helped the children build +sand-castles, and deck them with stone and sea-weeds. What treasures we +collected for Carrie's Sunday scholars; what stores of bright-colored +seaweed—or sea flowers, as Dot persisted in calling them—and heaps of +faintly-tinged shells! +</p> + +<p> +Flurry's doll family had accompanied us to the Brambles. "The poor dear +things wanted change of air!" Flurry had decided; and in spite of my +dissuasion, all the fair waxen creatures and their heterogeneous +wardrobe had been consigned to a vast trunk. +</p> + +<p> +Flurry's large family had given her infinite trouble when we settled +for our mornings on the beach. She traveled up and down the long stony +hillocks to the cottage until her little legs ached, to fetch the +twelve dolls. When they were all deposited in their white sun-bonnets +under a big umbrella, to save their complexions, which, +notwithstanding, suffered severely, then, and then only, would Flurry +join Dot on the narrow sands. +</p> + +<p> +Sometimes the tide rose, or a sudden shower came on, and then great was +the confusion. Once a receding wave carried out Corporal Trim, the most +unlucky of dolls, to sea. Flurry wrung her hands and wept so bitterly +over this disaster that Miss Ruth was quite frightened, and Flossy +jumped up and licked his little mistress' face and the faces of the +dolls by turns. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, the dear thing is drownded," sobbed Flurry, as Corporal Trim +floundered hopelessly in the surge. Dot's soft heart was so moved by +her distress that he hobbled into the water, crutches and all, to my +infinite terror. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't cry. Flurry; I've got him by the hair of his head," shouted Dot, +valiantly shouldering the dripping doll. Flurry ran down the beach with +the tears still on her cheeks, and took the wretched corporal and +hugged him to her bosom. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, my poor drownded Trim," cried Flurry tenderly, and a strange +procession formed to the cottage. Flurry with the poor victim in her +arms and Flossy jumping and barking delightedly round her, and +snatching at the wet rags; Dot, also, wet and miserable, toiling up the +beach on his crutches; Miss Ruth and I following with the eleven dolls. +</p> + +<p> +The poor corporal spent the rest of the day watching his own clothes +drying by the kitchen fire, where Dot kept him company; Flurry trotted +in and out, and petted them both. I am afraid Dot, being a boy, often +found the dolls a nuisance, and could have dispensed with their +company. There was a grand quarrel once when he flatly refused to carry +one. "I can't make believe to be a girl," said Dot, curling his lip +with infinite contempt. +</p> + +<p> +"We used to spend our afternoons in the garden. It was cooler than the +beach, and the shade of the old medlar was refreshing. We sometimes +read aloud to the children, but oftener they were working in their +little gardens, or playing with some tame rabbits that belonged to +Flurry. Dot always hobbled after Flurry wherever she went; he was her +devoted slave. Flurry sometimes treated him like one of her dolls, or +put on little motherly airs, in imitation of Miss Ruth. +</p> + +<p> +"You are tired, my dear boy; pray lean on me," we heard her once say, +propping him with her childish arm. "Sit down in the shade, you must +not heat yourself;" but Dot rather resented her care of him, after the +fashion of boys, but on the whole they suited each other perfectly. +</p> + +<p> +In the evenings we always walked over the downs or drove with Miss Ruth +in her pony carriage through the leafy lanes, or beside the yellow +cornfields. The children used to gather large nosegays of poppies and +cornflowers, and little pinky convolvuli. Sometimes we visited a +farmhouse where some people lived whom Miss Ruth knew. +</p> + +<p> +Once we stopped and had supper there, a homely meal of milk, and brown +bread, and cream cheese, with a golden honeycomb to follow, which we +ate in the farmyard kitchen. What an exquisite time we had there, +sitting in the low window seat, looking over a bright clover field. A +brood of little yellow chickens ran over the red-brick floor, a black +retriever and her puppies lay before the fire—fat black puppies with +blunt noses and foolish faces, turning over on their backs, and +blundering under every one's feet. +</p> + +<p> +Dot and Flurry went out to see the cows milked, and came back with long +stories of the dear little white, curly-tailed pigs. Flurry wrote to +her father the next day, and begged that he would buy her one for a +pet. Both she and Dot were indignant when he told them the little pig +they admired so much would become a great ugly sow like its mother. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Blake, the farmer's wife, took a great fancy to Dot, and begged +him to come again, which both the children promised her most earnestly +to do. They both carried off spoils of bright red apples to eat on the +way. +</p> + +<p> +It was almost dark when we drove home through the narrow lanes; the +hedgerows glimmered strangely in the dusk; a fresh sea-ladened wind +blew in our faces across the downs, the lights shone from the +Preventive station, and across the vague mist glimmered a star or two. +How fragrant and still it was, only the soft washing of the waves on +the beach to break the silence! +</p> + +<p> +Miss Ruth shivered a little as we rattled down the road leading to the +Brambles. Dorcas, mindful of her mistress' delicacy, had lighted a +little fire in the inner drawing-room, and had hot coffee waiting for +us. +</p> + +<p> +It looked so snug and inviting that the children left it reluctantly to +go to bed; but Miss Ruth was inexorable. This was our cozy hour; all +through the day we had to devote ourselves to the children—we used to +enjoy this quiet time to ourselves. Sometimes I wrote to mother or +Carrie, or we mutually took up our books; but oftener we sat and talked +as we did on this evening, until Nurse came to remind us of the +lateness of the hour. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Lucas paid us brief visits; he generally came down on Saturday +evening and remained until Monday. Miss Ruth could never coax him to +stay longer; I think his business distracted him, and kept his trouble +at bay. In this quiet place he would have grown restless. He had bought +the Brambles to please his wife, and she, and not Miss Ruth, had +furnished it. They had spent happy summers there when Flurry was a +baby. The little garden had been a wilderness until then; every flower +had been planted by his wife, every room bore witness to her charming +taste. No wonder he regarded it with such mingled feelings of pain and +pleasure. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Lucas made no difference to our simple routine. Miss Ruth and +Flurry used to drive to the little station to meet him, and bring him +back in triumph to the seven o'clock nondescript meal, that was neither +dinner nor tea, nor supper, but a compound of all. I used to go up with +the children after that meal, that he and Miss Ruth might enjoy their +chat undisturbed. When I returned to the drawing-room Miss Ruth was +invariably alone. +</p> + +<p> +"Giles has gone out for a solitary prowl," she would say; and he rarely +returned before we went upstairs. Miss Ruth knew his habits, and seldom +waited up to say good-night to him. +</p> + +<p> +"He likes better to be alone when he is in this mood," she would say +sometimes. Her tact and cleverness in managing him were wonderful; she +never seemed to watch him, she never let him feel that his morbid fits +were noticed and humored, but all the same she knew when to leave him +alone, and when to talk to him; she could be his bright companion, or +sit silently beside him for hours. On Sunday mornings Mr. Lucas always +accompanied us to church, and in the afternoon he sat with the children +on the beach. Dot soon got very fond of him, and would talk to him in +his fearless way, about anything that came into his head; Miss Ruth +sometimes joined them, but I always went apart with my book. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Lucas was so good to me that I could not bear to hamper him in the +least by my presence; with grown-up people he was a little stiff and +reserved, but with children he was his true self. +</p> + +<p> +Flurry doted on her father, and Dot told me in confidence that "he was +the nicest man he had ever known except Uncle Geoffrey." +</p> + +<p> +I could not hear their talk from my nest in the cliff, but I am afraid +Dot's chief occupation was to hunt the little scurrying crabs into a +certain pool he had already fringed with seaweed. I could see him and +Flurry carrying the big jelly-fishes, and floating them carefully. They +had left their spades and buckets at home, out of respect for the +sacredness of the day; but neither Flurry's clean white frock nor Dot's +new suit hindered them from scooping out the sand with their hands, and +making rough and ready ramparts to keep in their prey. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Lucas used to lie on the beach with his straw hat over his eyes, +and watch their play, and pet Flossy. When he was tired of inaction he +used to call to the children, and walk slowly and thought fully on. +Flurry used to run after him. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, do wait for Dot, father," she would plead; nothing would induce +her to leave her infirm and halting little playfellow. One day, when +Mr. Lucas was impatient of his slow progress, I saw him shoulder him, +crutches and all, and march off with him, Dot clapping his hands and +shouting with delight. That was the only time I followed them; but I +was so afraid Dot was a hindrance, and wanted to capture him, I walked +quite a mile before I met them coming back. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Lucas was still carrying Dot; Flurry was trotting beside him, and +pretending to use Dot's crutches. +</p> + +<p> +"We have been ever so far, Essie," screamed Dot when he caught sight of +me. "We have seen lots of seagulls, and a great cave where the +smugglers used to hide." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Dot, you must not let Mr. Lucas carry you," I said, holding out my +arms to relieve him of his burden. "You must stay with me, and I will +tell you a story." +</p> + +<p> +"He is happier up here, aren't you, Frankie boy?" returned Mr. Lucas, +cheerfully. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, but he will tire you," I faltered. +</p> + +<p> +"Tire me, this little bundle of bones!" peeping at Dot over his +shoulder; "why, I could walk miles with him. Don't trouble yourself +about him, Miss Esther. We understand each other perfectly." +</p> + +<p> +And then he left me, walking with long, easy strides over the uneven +ground, with Flurry running to keep up with him. +</p> + +<p> +They used to go on the downs after tea, and sit on the little green +beach, while Miss Ruth and I went to church. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Ruth never would use her pony carriage on Sunday. A boy used to +draw her in a wheel-chair. She never stayed at home unless she was +compelled to do so. I never knew any one enjoy the service more, or +enter more fully into it. +</p> + +<p> +No matter how out of tune the singing might be, she always joined in it +with a fervor that quite surprised me. "Depend upon it, Esther," she +used to say, "it is not the quality of our singing that matters but how +much our heart joins with the choir. Perfect praise and perfect music +cannot be expected here; but I like to think old Betty's cracked voice, +when she joins in the hymns, is as sweet to angels' ears as our younger +notes." +</p> + +<p> +The children always waited up for us on Sunday evening, and afterward +Miss Ruth would sing with them; sometimes Mr. Lucas would walk up and +down the gravel paths listening to them, but oftener I could catch the +red light of his cigar from the cliff seat. +</p> + +<p> +I wonder what sad thoughts came to him as the voices floated out to +him, mixed up with the low ripple of waves on the sand. +</p> + +<p> +"Where loyal hearts and true"—they were singing that, I remember; +Flurry in her childish treble. And Flurry's mother, lying in her quiet +grave—did the mother in paradise, I wonder, look down from her starry +place on her little daughter singing her baby hymn, and on that lonely +man, listening from the cliff seat in the darkness? +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap16"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XVI. +</h3> + +<h3> +THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. +</h3> + +<p> +The six weeks passed only too rapidly, but Dot and I were equally +delighted when Miss Ruth petitioned for a longer extension of absence, +to which dear mother returned a willing consent. +</p> + +<p> +A little note was enclosed for me in Miss Ruth's letter. +</p> + +<p> +"Make your mind quite easy, my dear child," she wrote, "we are getting +on very well, and really Jack is improving, and does all sorts of +little things to help me; she keeps her room tidier, and I have not had +to find fault with her for a week. +</p> + +<p> +"We do not see much of Carrie; she comes home looking very pale and +fagged; your uncle grumbles sometimes, but I tell him words are wasted, +the Smedley influence is stronger than ever. +</p> + +<p> +"But you need not think I am dull, though I do miss my bright, cheery +Esther, and my darling Frankie. Jack and I have nice walks, and Uncle +Geoffrey takes me sometimes on his rounds, and two or three times Mr. +Lucas has sent the carriage to take us into the country; he says the +horses need exercise, now his sister is away, but I know it is all his +kindness and thought for us. I will willingly spare you a little +longer, and am only thankful that the darling boy is deriving so much +benefit from the sea air." +</p> + +<p> +Dear, unselfish mother, always thinking first of her children's +interest, and never of her own wishes; and yet I could read between the +lines, and knew how she missed us, especially Dot, who was her constant +companion. +</p> + +<p> +But it was really the truth that the sea air was doing Dot good. He +complained less of his back, and went faster and faster on his little +crutches; the cruel abscesses had not tried him for months, and now it +seemed to me that the thin cheeks were rounding out a little. He looked +so sunburned and rosy, that I wished mother could have seen him. It was +only the color of a faintly-tinged rose, but all the same it was +wonderful for Dot. We had had lovely weather for our holiday; but at +the beginning of September came a change. About a week after mother's +letter had arrived, heavy storms of wind and rain raged round the coast. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Ruth and Dot were weather-bound, neither of them had strength to +brave the boisterous wind; but Flurry and I would tie down our hats +with our veils and run down the parade for a blow. It used to be quite +empty and deserted; only in the distance we could see the shiny hat of +the Preventive man, as he walked up and down with his telescope. +</p> + +<p> +I used to hold Flurry tightly by the hand, for I feared she would be +blown off her feet. Sometimes we were nearly drenched and blinded with +the salt spray. +</p> + +<p> +The sea looked so gray and sullen, with white curling waves leaping up +against the sea wall; heaps of froth lay on the parade, and even on the +green enclosure in the front of the houses. People said it was the +highest tide they had known for years. +</p> + +<p> +Once I was afraid to take Flurry out, and ran down to the beach alone. +I had to plant my feet firmly in the shingles, for I could hardly stand +against the wind. What a wild, magnificent scene it was, a study in +browns and grays, a strange colorless blending of faint tints and +uncertain shading. +</p> + +<p> +As the waves receded there was a dark margin of heaped-up seaweed along +the beach, the tide swept in masses of tangled things, the surge broke +along the shore with a voice like thunder, great foamy waves leaped up +in curling splendor and then broke to pieces in the gray abyss. The sky +was as gray as the sea; not a living thing was in sight except a lonely +seagull. I could see the gleam of the firelight through one of the +windows of the cottage. It looked so warm and snug. The beach was high +and dry round me, but a little beyond the Brambles the tide flowed up +to the low cliffs. Most people would have shivered in such a scene of +desolation, for the seagull and I had it all to ourselves, but the +tumult of the wind and waves only excited me. I felt wild with spirits, +and could have shouted in the exuberance of my enjoyment. +</p> + +<p> +I could have danced in my glee, as the foamy snowflakes fell round me, +and my face grew stiff and wet with the briny air. The white manes of +the sea-horses arched themselves as they swept to their destruction. +How the wind whistled and raved, like a hunted thing! "They that go +down to the sea in ships, and do their business in the deep waters," +those words seemed to flash to me across the wild tumult, and I thought +of all the wonders seen by the mariners of old. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Esther, how can you be so adventurous?" exclaimed Miss Ruth, as I +thrust a laughing face and wet waterproof into the room; she and the +children were sitting round the fire. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, it was delicious," I returned. "It intoxicated me like new wine; +you cannot imagine the mighty duet of the sea and wind, the rolling +sullen bass, and the shrill crescendo." +</p> + +<p> +"It must have been horrible," she replied, with a little shiver. The +wild tempestuous weather depressed her; the loud discordance of the +jarring elements seemed to fret the quiet of her spirit. +</p> + +<p> +"You are quite right," she said to me as we sat alone that evening, +"this sort of weather disturbs my tranquillity; it makes me restless +and agitates my nerves. Last night I could not sleep; images of terror +blended with my waking thoughts. I seemed to see great ships driving +before the wind, and to hear the roaring of breakers and crashing of +timbers against cruel rocks; and when I closed my eyes, it was only to +see the whitened bones of mariners lying fathoms deep among green +tangled seaweed." +</p> + +<p> +"Dear Miss Ruth, no wonder you look pale and depressed after such a +night. Would you like me to sleep with you? the wind seems to act on me +like a lullaby. I felt cradled in comfort last night." +</p> + +<p> +"You are so strong," she said, with a little sadness in her voice. "You +have no nerves, no diseased sensibilities; you do not dread the evils +you cannot see, the universe does not picture itself to you in dim +terrors." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, no," I returned, wonderingly, for such suggestions were new to me. +</p> + +<p> +"Sleep your happy sleep, my dear," she said, tenderly, "and thank God +for your perfect health, Esther. I dozed a little myself toward +morning, before the day woke in its rage, and then I had a horrible +sort of dream, a half-waking scare, bred of my night-terrors. +</p> + +<p> +"I thought I was tossing like a dead leaf in the gale; the wind had +broken bounds, and carried me away bodily. Now I was lying along the +margin of waves, and now swept in wide circles in the air. +</p> + +<p> +"The noise was maddening. The air seemed full of shrieks and cries, as +though the universe were lost and bewailing itself, 'Lamentation and +mourning and woe,' seemed written upon the lurid sky and sea. I thought +of those poor lovers in Dante's 'Inferno,' blown like spectral leaves +before the infernal winds of hell; but I was alone in this tumultuous +torrent. +</p> + +<p> +"I felt myself sinking at last into the dim, choking surge—it was +horribly real, Esther—and then some one caught me by the hair and drew +me out, and the words came to me, 'for so He bringeth them to the haven +where they would be.'" +</p> + +<p> +"How strange!" I exclaimed in an awed tone, for Miss Ruth's face was +pale, and there was a touch of sadness in her voice. +</p> + +<p> +"It was almost a vision of one's life," she returned, slowly; "we drift +hither and thither, blown by many a gust of passion over many an unseen +danger. If we be not engulfed, it is because the Angel of His +Providence watches over us; 'drawn out of many waters,' how many a life +history can testify of that!" +</p> + +<p> +"We have our smooth days as well," I returned, cheerfully, "when the +sun shines, and there are only ripples on the waters." +</p> + +<p> +"That is in youth," she replied; "later on the storms must come, and +the wise mariner will prepare himself to meet them. We must not always +be expecting fair weather. Do you not remember the lines of my favorite +hymn: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "'And oh, the joy upon that shore<br /> + To tell our shipwrecked voyage o'er.'<br /> +</p> + +<p> +"Really, I think one of the great pleasures in heaven will be telling +the perils we have been through, and how He has brought us home at +last." +</p> + +<p> +Miss Ruth would not let me sleep with her that night; but to my great +relief, for her pale, weary looks made me anxious, the wind abated, and +toward morning only the breaking surge was heard dashing along the +shore. +</p> + +<p> +"I have rested better," were the first words when we met, "but that one +night's hurly-burly has wrecked me a little," which meant that she was +only fit for bed. +</p> + +<p> +But she would not hear of giving up entirely, so I drew her couch to +the fire, and wrapped her up in shawls and left Dot to keep her +company, while Flurry and I went out. In spite of the lull the sea was +still very unquiet, and the receding tide gave us plenty of amusement, +and we spent a very happy morning. In the afternoon, Miss Ruth had some +errands for me to do in the town—wools to match, and books to change +at the library, after which I had to replenish our exhausted store of +note-paper. +</p> + +<p> +It was Saturday, and we had decided the pony carriage must go alone to +the station to meet Mr. Lucas. He generally arrived a little before +six, but once he had surprised us walking in with his portmanteau, just +as we were starting for our afternoon's walk. Flurry begged hard to +accompany me; but Miss Ruth thought she had done enough, and wished her +to play with Dot in the dining-room at some nice game. I was rather +sorry at Miss Ruth's decision, for I saw Flurry was in one of her +perverse moods. They occurred very seldom, but gave me a great deal of +trouble to overcome them. She could be very naughty on such occasions, +and do a vast amount of mischief. Flurry's break-outs, as I called +them, were extremely tiresome, as Nurse Gill and I knew well. I was +very disinclined to trust Dot in her company, for her naughtiness would +infect him, and even the best of children can be troublesome sometimes. +Flurry looked very sulky when I asked her what game they meant to play, +and I augured badly from her toss of the head and brief replies. She +was hugging Flossie on the window-seat, and would not give me her +attention, so I turned to Dot and begged him to be a good boy and not +to disturb Miss Ruth, but take care of Flurry. +</p> + +<p> +Dot answered amiably, and I ran off, determining to be back as soon as +I could. I wished Nurse Gill could sit with the children and keep them +in good temper, but she was at work in Miss Ruth's room and could not +come down. +</p> + +<p> +My errands took longer than I thought; wool matching is always a +troublesome business, and the books Miss Ruth wanted were out, and I +had to select others; it was more than an hour before I set off for +home, and then I met Nurse Gill, who wanted some brass rings for the +curtains she was making, and had forgotten to ask me to get them. +</p> + +<p> +The wind was rising again, and I was surprised to find Miss Ruth in the +porch with her handkerchief tied over her head, and Dorcas running down +the garden path. +</p> + +<p> +"Have you seen them, Miss Esther?" asked the girl, anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +"Who—what do you mean?" I inquired. +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Florence and Master Dot; we have been looking for them +everywhere. I was taking a cup of tea just now to mistress, and she +asked me to go into the dining-room, as the children seemed so quiet; +but they were not there, and Betty and I have searched the house and +garden over, and we cannot find them." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Esther, come here," exclaimed Miss Ruth in agony, for I was +standing still straining my eyes over the beach to catch a glimpse of +them. "I am afraid I was very wrong to send you out, and Giles will be +here presently, and Dorcas says Dot's hat is missing from the peg, and +Flurry's sealskin hat and jacket." +</p> + +<p> +Dot out in this wind! I stood aghast at the idea, but the next moment I +took Miss Ruth's cold little hands in mine. +</p> + +<p> +"You must not stand here," I said firmly; "come into the drawing-room, +I will talk to you there, and you too, Dorcas. No, I have not seen +them," as Miss Ruth yielded to my strong grasp, and stood shivering and +miserable on the rug. "I came past the Preventive station and down the +parade, and they were not there." +</p> + +<p> +"Could they have followed Nurse Gill?" struck in Dorcas. +</p> + +<p> +"No, for I met her just now, and she was alone. I hardly think they +would go to the town. Dot never cared for the shops, or Flurry either. +Perhaps they might be hidden in one of the bathing machines. Oh, Miss +Ruth," with an access of anxiety in my voice, "Dot is so weakly, and +this strong wind will blow him down; it must be all Flurry's +naughtiness, for nothing would have induced him to go out unless she +made him." +</p> + +<p> +"What are we to do?" she replied, helplessly. This sudden terror had +taken away her strength, she looked so ill. I thought a moment before I +replied. +</p> + +<p> +"Let Dorcas go down to the bathing machines," I said, at last, "and she +can speak to the Preventive man; and if you do not mind being alone, +Miss Ruth, and you must promise to lie down and keep quiet, Betty might +go into the town and find Nurse Gill. I will just run along the beach +and take a look all around." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, do," she returned. "Oh, my naughty, naughty Flurry!" almost +wringing her hands. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't frighten yourself beforehand," I said, kissing her and speaking +cheerfully, though I did feel in a state about Dot; and what would +mother and Mr. Lucas say? "I daresay Dorcas or I will bring them back +in a few minutes, and then won't they get a scolding!" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, no; I shall be too happy to scold them," she returned, with a +faint smile, for my words put fresh heart in her, and she would follow +us into the porch and stand looking after us. +</p> + +<p> +I scrambled over the shingles as fast as I could, for the wind was +rising, and I was afraid it would soon grow dusk. Nothing was in sight; +the whole shore was empty and desolate—fearfully desolate, even to my +eyes. +</p> + +<p> +It was no use going on, I thought; they must be hiding in the bathing +machines after all. And I was actually turning round when something +gray on the beach attracted my attention, and I picked it up. To my +horror, it was one of Dot's woolen mittens that mother had knitted for +him, and which he had worn that very afternoon. +</p> + +<p> +I was on their track, after all. I was sure of it now; but when I +lifted my eyes and saw the dreary expanse of shore before me, a blank +feeling of terror took possession of me. They were not in sight! +Nothing but cloudy skies and low chalky cliffs, and the surge breaking +on the shingles. +</p> + +<p> +All at once a thought that was almost an inspiration flashed across +me—the smugglers' cave! Flurry was always talking about it; it had +taken a strong hold of her imagination, and both she and Dot had been +wild to explore it, only Miss Ruth had never encouraged the idea. She +thought caves were damp, dreary places, and not fit for delicate +children. Flurry must have tempted Dot to accompany her on this +exploring expedition. I was as convinced of the fact as though I had +overheard the children's conversation. She would coax and cajole him +until his conscience was undermined. How could he have dragged himself +so far on his crutches? for the cave was nearly half a mile away from +where I stood, and the wind was rising fearfully. And now an icy chill +of terror came over me from head to foot—the tide was advancing! It +had already covered the narrow strip of sand; in less than an hour it +would reach the cliffs, for the shore curved a little beyond the +cottage, and with the exception of the beach before the Brambles, the +sea covered the whole of the shingles. +</p> + +<p> +I shall never, to my dying day, forget that moment's agony when my mind +first grasped the truth of the deadly peril those thoughtless babes had +incurred. Without instant help, those little children must be drowned, +for the water flowed into the cave. Even now it might be too late. All +these thoughts whirled through my brain in an instant. +</p> + +<p> +Only for a moment I paused and cast one despairing glance round me. The +cottage was out of sight. Nurse Gill, and Dorcas, and Betty were +scouring the town; no time to run back for help, no hope of making +one's voice heard with the wind whistling round me. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, my God! help me to save these children!" I cried, with a sob that +almost choked me. And then I dashed like a mad thing toward the shore. +</p> + +<p> +My despair gave me courage, but my progress was difficult and slow. It +was impossible to keep up that pace over the heavy shingles with the +wind tearing round me and taking away my breath. +</p> + +<p> +Several times I had to stand and collect my energies, and each time I +paused I called the children's names loudly. But, alas! the wind and +the sea swallowed up the sound. +</p> + +<p> +How fast the tide seemed coming up! The booming of the breakers sounded +close behind me. I dared not look—I dared not think. I fought and +buffeted the wind, and folded my cloak round me. +</p> + +<p> +"Out of the depth I have cried unto Thee." Those were the words I said +over and over to myself. +</p> + +<p> +I had reached the cave at last, and leaned gasping and nearly faint +with terror before I began searching in its dim recesses. +</p> + +<p> +Great masses of slimy seaweed lay heaped up at the entrance; a faint +damp odor pervaded it. The sudden roar of wind and sea echoed in dull +hollowness, but here at least my voice could be heard. +</p> + +<p> +"Flurry-Dot!" I screamed. I could hear my own wild shriek dying away +through the cave. To my delight, two little voices answered: +</p> + +<p> +"Here we are Esther! Come along, we are having such a game! Flurry is +the smuggler, and I am the Preventive man, and Flossy is my dog, +and—oh, dear! what is the matter?" And Dot, who had hobbled out of a +snug, dry little corner near the entrance, looked up with frightened +eyes as I caught him and Flurry in my arms. I suppose my face betrayed +my fears, for I could not at that moment gasp out another word. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap17"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XVII. +</h3> + +<h3> +A LONG NIGHT. +</h3> + +<p> +"What is the matter, Essie?" cried Dot, piteously, as I held him in +that tight embrace without speaking. "We were naughty to come, yes, I +know, but you said I was to take care of Flurry, and she would come. I +did not like it, for the wind was so cold and rough, and I fell twice +on the shingles; but it is nice here, and we were having such a famous +game." +</p> + +<p> +"Esther is going to be cross and horrid because we ran away, but father +will only laugh," exclaimed Flurry, with the remains of a frown on her +face. She knew she was in the wrong and meant to brave it out. +</p> + +<p> +Oh, the poor babes, playing their innocent games with Death waiting for +them outside! +</p> + +<p> +"Come, there is not an instant to lose," I exclaimed, catching up Dot +in my arms; he was very little and light, and I thought we could get on +faster so, and perhaps if the sea overtook us they would see us and put +out a boat from the Preventive station. "Come, come," I repeated, +snatching Flurry's hand, for she resisted a little: but when I reached +the mouth of the cave she uttered a loud cry, and tugged fiercely at my +hand to get free. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, the sea, the dreadful sea!" she exclaimed, hiding her face; "it is +coming up! Look at the waves—we shall be drownded!" +</p> + +<p> +I could feel Dot shiver in my arms, but he did not speak, only his +little hands clung round my neck convulsively. Poor children! their +punishment had already begun. +</p> + +<p> +"We shall be drowned if you don't make haste," I returned, trying to +speak carefully, but my teeth chattered in spite of myself. "Come, +Flurry, let us run a race with the waves; take hold of my cloak, for I +want my hands free for Dot." I had dropped his crutches in the cave; +they were no use to him—he could not have moved a step in the teeth of +this wind. +</p> + +<p> +Poor Flurry began to cry bitterly, but she had confidence in my +judgment, and an instinct of obedience made her grasp my cloak, and so +we commenced our dangerous pilgrimage. I could only move slowly with +Dot; the wind was behind us, but it was terribly fierce. Flurry fell +twice, and picked herself up sobbing; the horrors of the scene utterly +broke down her courage, and she threw her arms round me frantically and +prayed me to go back. +</p> + +<p> +"The waves are nearly touching us!" she shrieked; and then Dot, +infected by her terrors, began to cry loudly too. "We shall be +drownded, all of us, and it is getting dark, and I won't go, I won't +go!" screamed the poor child trying to push me back with her feeble +force. +</p> + +<p> +Then despair took possession of me; we might have done it if Flurry had +not lost all courage; the water would not have been high enough to +drown us; we could have waded through it, and they would have seen us +from the cottage and come to our help. I would have saved them; I knew +I could; but in Flurry's frantic state it was impossible. Her eyes +dilated with terror, a convulsive trembling seized her. Must we go back +to the cave, and be drowned like rats in a hole? The idea was horrible, +and yet it went far back. Perhaps there was some corner or ledge of +rock where we might be safe; but to spend the night in such a place! +the idea made me almost as frantic as Flurry. Still, it was our only +chance, and we retraced our steps but still so slowly and painfully +that the spray of the advancing waves wetted our faces, and +beyond—ah!—I shut my eyes and struggled on, while Flurry hid her head +in the folds of my cloak. +</p> + +<p> +We gained the smugglers' cave, and then I put down Dot, and bade him +pick up his crutchers and follow me close, while I explored the cave. +It was very dark, and Flurry began to cry afresh, and would not let go +of my hand; but Dot shouldered his crutches, and walked behind us as +well as he could. +</p> + +<p> +At each instant my terror grew. It was a large winding cave, but the +heaps of seaweed everywhere, up to the very walls, proved that the +water filled the cavern. I became hysterical too. I would not stay to +be drowned there, I muttered between my chattering teeth; drowned in +the dark, and choked with all that rotten garbage! Better take the +children in either hand, and go out and meet our fate boldly. I felt my +brain turning with the horror, when all at once I caught sight of a +rough broken ledge of rock, rising gradually from the back of the cave. +Seaweed hung in parts high up, but it seemed to me in the dim twilight +there was a portion of the rock bare; if so, the sea did not cover +it—we might find a dry foothold. +</p> + +<p> +"Let go my hand a moment, Flurry," I implored; "I think I see a little +place where we may be safe. I will be back in a moment, dear." But +nothing could induce her to relax her agonized grasp of my cloak. I had +to argue the point. "The water comes all up here wherever the seaweed, +is," I explained. "You think we are safe, Flurry, but we can be drowned +where we stand; the sea fills the cave." But at this statement Flurry +only screamed the louder and clung closer. Poor child! she was beside +herself with fright. +</p> + +<p> +So I said to Dot: +</p> + +<p> +"My darling is a boy, and boys are not so frightened as girls; so you +will stay here quietly while Flurry and I climb up there, and Flossy +shall keep you company." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't be long," he implored, but he did not say another word. Dear, +brave little heart, Dot behaved like a hero that day. He then stooped +down and held Flossy, who whined to follow us. I I think the poor +animal knew our danger, for he shivered and cowered down in evident +alarm, and I could hear Dot coaxing him. +</p> + +<p> +It was very slippery and steep, and I crawled up with difficulty, with +Flurry clambering after me, and holding tightly to my dress. Dot +watched us wistfully as we went higher and higher, leaving him and +Flossy behind. The seaweed impeded us, but after a little while we came +to a bare piece of rock jutting out over the cave, with a scooped-out +corner where all of us could huddle, and it seemed to me as though the +shelf went on for a yard or two beyond it. We were above water-mark +there; we should be quite safe, and a delicious glimmer of hope came +over me. +</p> + +<p> +I had great difficulty in inducing Flurry to stay behind while I +crawled down for Dot. She was afraid to be alone in that dark place, +with the hollow booming of wind and waves echoing round her; but I told +her sternly that Dot and Flossy would be drowned and then she let me go. +</p> + +<p> +Dot was overjoyed to welcome me back, and then I lifted him up and bade +him crawl slowly on his hands and knees, while I followed with his +crutches, and Flossy crept after us, shivering and whining for us to +take him up. As we toiled up the broken ledge it seemed to grow darker, +and we could hardly see each other's faces if we tried, only the splash +of the first entering wave warned me that the sea would soon have been +upon us. +</p> + +<p> +I was giddy and breathless by the time we reached the nook where Flurry +was, and then we crept into the corner, the children clasping each +other across me, and Flossy on my lap licking our faces alternately. +Saved from a horrible death! For a little while I could do nothing but +weep helplessly over the children and thank God for a merciful +deliverance. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as the first hysterical outburst of emotion was over, I did my +best to make the children as comfortable as I could under such forlorn +circumstances. I knew Flurry's terror of darkness, and I could well +imagine how horribly the water would foam and splash beneath us, and I +must try and prevent them from seeing it. +</p> + +<p> +I made Dot climb into my lap, for I thought the hard rock would make +his poor back ache, and I could keep him from being chilled; and then I +induced Flurry to creep under my heavy waterproof cloak—how thankful I +was I put it on!—and told her to hold Flossy in her arms, for the +little creature's soft fur would be warm and comfortable; and then I +fastened the cloak together, buttoning it until it formed a little tent +above them. Flurry curled her feet into my dress and put her head on my +shoulder, and she and Dot held each other fast across me, and Flossy +rolled himself up into a warm ball and went to sleep. Poor little +creatures! They began to forget their sorrows a little, until Flurry +suddenly recollected that it was tea-time, and her father had arrived; +and then she began crying again softly. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm so hungry," she sobbed; "aren't you Dot?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, but I don't mean to mind it," returned Dot, manfully. "Essie is +hungry too." And he put up his hand and stroked my neck softly. The +darling, he knew how I suffered, and would not add to my pain by +complaining. +</p> + +<p> +I heard him say to Flurry in a whisper, "It is all our fault; we ought +to be punished for running away; but Essie has done nothing wrong. I +thought God meant to drown us, as He did the disobedient people." But +this awful reminder of her small sins was too much for Flurry. +</p> + +<p> +"I did not mean to be wicked," she wailed. "I thought it would be such +fun to play at smugglers in the cave, and Aunt Ruth and Esther never +would let me." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, and I begged you not to run away, and you would," retorted Dot in +an admonishing tone. "I did not want come, too, because it was so cold, +and the wind blew so; but I promised Essie to take care of you, so I +went. I think you were quite as bad as the people whom God drowned, +because they would not be good and mind Noah." +</p> + +<p> +"But I don't want to be drowned," responded Flurry, tearfully. "Oh, +dear, Dot, don't say such dreadful things! I am good now, and I will +never, never disobey auntie again. Shall we say our prayers, Dot, and +ask God not to be so very angry, and then perhaps He will send some one +to take us out of this dark, dreadful place?" +</p> + +<p> +Dot approved of this idea, and they began repeating their childish +petitions together, but my mind strayed away when I tried to join them. +</p> + +<p> +Oh, how dark and desolate it was! I shivered and clasped the children +closer to me as the hollow moaning of the waves reverberated through +the cavern. Every minute the water was rising; by-and-by the spray must +wet us even in our sheltered corner. Would the children believe me when +I told them we were safe? Would not Flurry's terrors return at the +first touch of the cold spray? The darkness and the noise and the +horror were almost enough to turn her childish brain; they were too +much for my endurance. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, heavens!" I cried to myself, "must we really spend a long, hideous +night in this place? We are safe! safe!" I repeated; but still it was +too horrible to think of wearing out the long, slow hours in such +misery. +</p> + +<p> +It was six now; the tide would not turn until three in the morning; it +had been rising for three hours now; it would not be possible to leave +the cave and make our way by the cliff for an hour after that. Ten +hours—ten long, crawling hours to pass in this cramped position! I +thought of dear mother's horror if she knew of our peril, and then I +thought of Allan, and a lump came in my throat. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Lucas would be scouring the coast in search of us. What a night for +the agonized father to pass! And poor, fragile Miss Ruth, how would she +endure such hours of anxiety? I could have wrung my hands and moaned +aloud at the thought of their anguish, but for the children—the poor +children who were whispering their baby prayers together; that kept me +still. Perhaps they might be even now at the mouth of the cave, seeking +and calling to us. A dozen times I imagined I could hear the splash of +oars and the hoarse cries of the sailors; but how could our feeble +voices reach them in the face of the shrieking wind? No one would think +of the smugler's cave, for it was but one of many hollowed out of the +cliff. They would search for us, but very soon they would abandon it in +despair; they knew I had gone to seek the children; most likely I had +been too late, and the rising tide had engulfed us, and swept us far +out to sea. Miss Ruth would think of her dreams and tremble, and the +wretched father would sit by her, stunned and helpless, waiting for the +morning to break and bring him proof of his despair. +</p> + +<p> +The tears ran down my cheeks as these sad thoughts passed through my +mind, and a strong inward cry for deliverance, for endurance, for some +present comfort in this awful misery, shook my frame with convulsive +shudders. Dot felt them, and clasped me tighter, and Flurry trembled in +sympathy; my paroxysm disturbed them, but my prayer was heard, and the +brief agony passed. +</p> + +<p> +I thought of Jeremiah in his dungeon, of Daniel in the lions' den, of +the three children in the fiery furnace, and the Form that was like the +Son of God walking with them in the midst of the flames; and I knew and +felt that we were as safe on that rocky shelf, with the dark, raging +waters below us, as though we were by our own bright hearth fire at +home; then my trembling ceased, and I recovered voice to talk to the +children. +</p> + +<p> +I wanted them to go to sleep; but Flurry said, in a lamentable voice, +that she was too hungry, and the sea made such a noise; so I told them +about Shadrach, Meshech, and Abednego; and after I had finished that, +all the Bible stories I could remember of wonderful deliverance; and +by-and-by we came to the storm on the Galilean lake. +</p> + +<p> +Flurry leaned heavily against me. "Oh, it is getting colder," she +gasped; "Flossy keeps my hands warm, and the cloak is thick, and yet I +can't help shivering." And I could feel Dot shiver, too. "The water +seems very near us, I wish I did not feel afraid of it Esther," she +whispered, after another minute; but I pretended not to hear her. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, it is cold, but not so cold as those disciples must have felt," I +returned; "they were in a little open boat, Flurry, and the water +dashed right over them, and the vessel rocked dreadfully"—here I +paused—"and it was dark, for Jesus was not yet come to them." +</p> + +<p> +"I wish He would come now," whispered Dot. +</p> + +<p> +"That is what the disciples wished, and all the time they little knew +that He was on His way to them, and watching them toiling against the +wind, and that very soon the wind would cease, and they would be safe +on the shore. We do not like being in this dark cave, do we, Flurry +darling? And the sea keeps us awake; but He knows that, and He is +watching us; and by-and-by, when the morning comes, we shall have light +and go home." +</p> + +<p> +Flurry said "Yes," sleepily, for in spite of the cold and hunger she +was getting drowsy; it must have been long past her bedtime. We had sat +on our dreary perch three hours, and there were six more to wait. I +noticed that the sound of my voice tranquillized the children; so I +repeated hymns slowly and monotonously until they nodded against me and +fell into weary slumbers. "Thank God!" I murmured when I perceived +this, and I leaned back against the rock, and tried to close my eyes; +but they would keep opening and staring into the darkness. It was not +black darkness—I do not think I could have borne that; a sort of murky +half-light seemed reflected from the water, or from somewhere, and +glimmered strangely from a background of inky blackness. +</p> + +<p> +It was bitterly cold now; my feet felt numbed, and the spray wetted and +chilled my face. I dared not move my arm from Dot, he leaned so heavily +against it, and Flurry's head was against him. She had curled herself +up like Flossy, and I had one hand free, only I could not disentangle +it from the cloak. I dared not change my cramped position, for fear of +waking them. I was too thankful for their brief oblivion. If I could +only doze for a few moments; if I could only shut out the black waters +for a minute! The tumults of my thoughts were indescribable. My whole +life seemed to pass before me; every childish folly, every girlish +error and sin, seemed to rise up before me; conversations I had +forgotten, little incidents of family life, dull or otherwise; speeches +I had made and repented, till my head seemed whirling. It must be +midnight now, I thought. If I could only dare; but a new terror kept me +wide awake. In spite of my protecting arms, would not Dot suffer from +the damp chilliness? He shivered in his sleep, and Flurry moaned and +half woke, and then slept again. I was growing so numbed and cramped +that I doubted my endurance for much longer. Dot seemed growing +heavier, and there was the weight of Flurry and Flossy. If I could only +stretch myself! And then I nearly cried out, for a sudden flash seemed +to light the cavern. One instant, and it was gone; but that second +showed a grewsome scene—damp, black walls, with a frothing turbulous +water beneath them, and hanging arches exuding moisture. Darkness +again. From whence had that light flashed? As I asked myself the +question it came again, startling me with its sudden brilliancy; and +this time it was certainly from some aperture overhead, and a little +beyond where we sat. +</p> + +<p> +Gone again, and this time utterly; but not before I caught a glimpse of +the broad rocky shelf beyond us. The light had flashed down not a dozen +yards from where we stood; it must have been a lantern; if so, they +were still seeking us, this time on the cliffs. It was only midnight, +and there were still four weary hours to wait, and every moment I was +growing more chilled and numbed. I began to dread the consequences to +myself as well as to the children. If I could only crawl along the +shelf and explore, perhaps there might be some opening to the cliff. I +had not thought of this before, until the light brought the idea to my +mind. +</p> + +<p> +I perceived, too, that the glimmering half-light came from above, and +not from the mouth of the cave. For a moment the fear of losing my +balance and falling back into the water daunted me, and kept me from +moving; but the next minute I felt I must attempt it. I unfastened my +cloak and woke Dot softly, and then whispered to him that I was cramped +and in pain, and must move up and down the platform; and he understood +me, and crawled sleepily off my lap; then I lifted Flurry with +difficulty, for she moaned and whimpered at my touch. +</p> + +<p> +My numbness was so great I could hardly move my limbs; but I crawled +across Flurry somehow, and saw Dot creep into my place, and covered +them with my cloak; and then I commenced to move slowly and carefully +on my hands and knees up the rocky path. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap18"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XVIII. +</h3> + +<h3> +"YOU BRAVE GIRL!" +</h3> + +<p> +They told me afterward that this was a daring feat, and fraught with +awful peril, for in that painful groping in the darkness I might have +lost my balance and fallen back into the water. +</p> + +<p> +I was conscious of this at the time; but we cannot die until our hour +is come, and in youth one's faith is more simple and trusting; to pray +is to be heard, to grasp more tightly by the mantle of His Providence, +so I committed myself to Heaven, and crept slowly along the face of the +rock. In two or three minutes I felt cold air blowing down upon my +face, and, raising myself cautiously, I found I was standing under an +aperture, large enough for me to crawl through, which led to the downs. +For one moment I breathed the fresh night air and caught the glimmer of +starlight, and then I crept back to the children. +</p> + +<p> +Flurry was awake and weeping piteously, and Dot was trying to comfort +her in a sleepy voice; but she was quiet the moment I told them about +the hole. +</p> + +<p> +"I must leave you behind, Dot," I said, sorrowfully, "and take Flurry +first;" and the brave little fellow said: +</p> + +<p> +"All right, Essie," and held back the dog, who was whining to follow. +</p> + +<p> +I put my arm round Flurry, and made her promise not to lose hold of the +rock. The poor child was dreadfully frightened, and stopped every now +and then, crying out in horror that she was falling into the water, but +I held her fast and coaxed her to go on again; and all the time the +clammy dews of terror stood on my forehead. Never to my dying day shall +I forget those terrible moments. +</p> + +<p> +But we were mercifully preserved, and to my joy I felt the winds of +heaven blowing round us, and in another moment Flurry had crawled +through the hole in the rock, and was sitting shivering on the grass. +</p> + +<p> +"Now I must go back for Dot and Flossy," I exclaimed; but as I spoke +and tried to disengage myself from Flurry's nervous grasp, I heard a +little voice below. +</p> + +<p> +"I am here, Essie, and I have got Flossy all safe. Just stoop down and +take him, and then I shall clamber up all right." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, my darling, how could you?" The courageous child had actually +dragged himself with the dog under one arm all along the dangerous +path, to spare me another journey. +</p> + +<p> +I could scarcely speak, but I covered his cold little face with kisses +as he tottered painfully into my arms—my precious boy, my brave, +unselfish Dot! +</p> + +<p> +"I could not bring the crutches or the cloak, Essie," he whispered. +</p> + +<p> +"Never mind them," I replied, with a catch in my voice. "You are safe; +we are all safe—that is all I can take in. I must carry you, Dot, and +Flurry shall hold my dress, and we shall soon be home." +</p> + +<p> +"Where is your hat, Essie?" he asked, putting up his hand to my hair. +It was true I was bareheaded, and yet I had never missed it. My cloak +lay below in the cavern. What a strange sight I must have presented if +any one could have seen us! My hair was blowing loosely about my face; +my dress seemed to cling round my feet. +</p> + +<p> +How awfully dark and desolate the downs looked under that dim, starry +light. Only the uncertain glimmer enabled me to keep from the cliffs or +discern the right path. The heavy booming of the sea and the wind +together drowned our voices. When it lulled I could hear Flurry sobbing +to herself in the darkness, and Flossy, whining for company, as he +followed us closely. Poor Dot was spent and weary, and lay heavily +against my shoulder. Every now and then I had to stop and gather +strength, for I felt strangely weak, and there was an odd beating at my +heart. Dot must have heard my panting breath, for he begged me more +than once to put him down and leave him, but I would not. +</p> + +<p> +My strength was nearly gone when we reached the shelving path leading +down to the cottage, but I still dragged on. A stream of light came +full upon us as we turned the corner; it came from the cottage. +</p> + +<p> +The door was wide open and the parlor blinds were raised, and the ruddy +gleam of lamplight and firelight streamed full on our faces. +</p> + +<p> +No one saw us as we toiled up the pebbled path; no one waited for us in +the porch. I have a faint recollection that I stood in the hall, +looking round me for a moment in a dazed fashion; that Flossy barked, +and a door burst open; there was a wave of light, and a man's voice +saying something. I felt myself swaying with Dot in my arms; but some +one must have caught us, for when I came to myself I was lying on the +couch by the drawing-room fire, and Miss Ruth was kneeling beside me +raining tears over my face. +</p> + +<p> +"And Dot!" I tried to move and could not, and fell back on my pillow. +"The children!" I gasped, and there was a sudden movement in the room, +and Mr. Lucas stood over me with his child in his arms. Was it my +fancy, or were there tears in his eyes, too? +</p> + +<p> +"They are here, Esther," he said, in a soothing voice. "Nurse is taking +care of your boy." And then he burst out, "Oh, you brave girl! you +noble girl!" in a voice of strong emotion, and turned away. +</p> + +<p> +"Hush, Giles, we must keep her quiet," admonished his sister. "We do +not know what the poor thing has been through, but she is as cold as +ice. And feel how soaking her hair is!" +</p> + +<p> +Had it rained? I suppose it had, but then the children must be wet too! +</p> + +<p> +Miss Ruth must have noticed my anxious look, for she kissed me and +whispered: +</p> + +<p> +"Don't worry, Esther; we have fires and hot baths ready. Nurse and the +others will attend to the children; they will soon be warmed and in +bed. Let me dry your hair and rub your cold hands; and drink this, and +you will soon be able to move." +</p> + +<p> +The cordial and food they gave me revived my numb faculties, and in a +little while I was able, with assistance, to go to my room. Miss Ruth +followed me, and tenderly helped me to remove my damp things; but I +would not lie down in my warm bed until I had seen with my own eyes +that Flurry was already soundly asleep and Dot ready to follow her +example. +</p> + +<p> +"Isn't it delicious?" he whispered, drowsily, as I kissed him; and then +Miss Ruth led me back to my room, and tucked me up and sat down beside +me. +</p> + +<p> +"Now tell me all about it," she said, "and then you will be able to +sleep." For a strong excitement had succeeded the faintness, and in +spite of my aching limbs and weariness I had a sensation as though I +could fly. +</p> + +<p> +But when I told her she only shuddered and wept, and before I had half +narrated the history of those dismal hours she was down on her knees +beside the bed, kissing my hands. +</p> + +<p> +"Do let me," she sobbed, as I remonstrated. "Oh, Esther, how I love +you! How I must always love you for this!" +</p> + +<p> +"No, I am not Miss Ruth any longer; I am Ruth. I am your own friend and +sister, who would do anything to show her gratitude. You dear +girl!—you brave girl!—as Giles called you." +</p> + +<p> +This brought to my lips the question, "How had Mr. Lucas borne this +dreadful suspense?" +</p> + +<p> +"As badly as possible," she answered, drying her eyes. "Oh, Esther! +what we have all been through. Giles came in half an hour after you +left to search the shore. He was in a dreadful state, as you may +imagine. He sent down to the Preventive station at once, and there was +a boat got ready, and he went with the men. They pulled up and down for +an hour or two, but could find no trace of you." +</p> + +<p> +"We were in the cavern all the time," I murmured. +</p> + +<p> +"That was the strangest part of all," she returned. "Giles remembered +the cavern, and they went right into the mouth, and called as loudly as +they could." +</p> + +<p> +"We did not hear them; the wind was making such a noise, and it was so +dark." +</p> + +<p> +"The men gave up all hope at last, and Giles was obliged to come back. +He walked into the house looking as white as death. 'It is all over,' +he said; 'the tide has overtaken them, and that girl is drowned with +them.' And then he gave a sort of sob, and buried his face in his +hands. I turned so faint that for a little time he was obliged to +attend to me, but when I was better he got up and left the house. It +did not seem as though he could rest from the search, and yet he had +not the faintest glimmer of hope. He would have the cottage illuminated +and the door left open, and then he lighted his lantern and walked up +and down the cliffs, and every time he came back his poor face looked +whiter and more drawn. I had got hold of his hand, and was trying to +keep him from wandering out again, when all at once we heard Flossy +bark. Giles burst open the door, and then he gave a great cry, for +there you were, my poor Esther, standing under the hall lamp, with your +hair streaming over your shoulders and Dot in your arms, and Flurry +holding your dress, and you looked at us and did not seem to see us, +and Giles was just in time to catch you as you were reeling. He had you +all in his arms at once," finished Miss Ruth, with another sob, "till I +took our darling Flurry from him, and then he laid you down and carried +Dot to the fire." +</p> + +<p> +"If I could not have saved them I would have died with them; you knew +that, Miss Ruth." +</p> + +<p> +"Ruth," she corrected. "Yes, I knew that, and so did Giles. He said +once or twice, 'She is strong enough or sensible enough to save them if +it were possible, but no one can fight against fate.' Now I must go +down to him, for he is waiting to hear all about it, and you must go to +sleep, Esther, for your eyes are far too bright." +</p> + +<p> +But, greatly to her surprise and distress, I resisted this advice and +broke out into frightened sobs. The sea was in my ears, I said, when I +tried to close my eyes, and my arms felt empty without Dot and I could +not believe he was safe, though she told me so over and over again. +</p> + +<p> +I was greatly amazed at my own want of control; but nothing could +lessen this nervous excitement until Mr. Lucas came up to the door, and +Miss Ruth went out to him in sore perplexity. +</p> + +<p> +"What am I to do, Giles? I cannot soothe her in the least." +</p> + +<p> +"Let her have the child," he returned, in his deep voice; "she will +sleep then." And he actually fetched little Dot and put him in Miss +Ruth's arms. +</p> + +<p> +"Isn't it nice, Essie?" he muttered sleepily, as he nestled against me. +</p> + +<p> +It was strange, but the moment my arm was round him, and I felt his +soft breathing against my shoulder, my eyelids closed of their own +accord, and a sense of weariness and security came over me. +</p> + +<p> +Before many minutes were over I had fallen into a deep sleep, and Miss +Ruth was free to seek her brother and give him the information for +which he was longing. +</p> + +<p> +It was nearly five in the morning when I closed my eyes, and it was +exactly the same time on the following afternoon when I opened them. +</p> + +<p> +My first look was for Dot, but he was gone, the sun was streaming in at +the window, a bright fire burned in the grate, and Nurse Gill was +sitting knitting in the sunshine. +</p> + +<p> +She looked up with a pleasant smile on her homely face as I called to +her rather feebly. +</p> + +<p> +"How you have slept, to be sure, Miss Esther—a good twelve hours. But +I always say Nature is a safe nurse, and to be trusted. There's Master +Dot has been up and dressed these three hours and more, and Miss Flurry +too." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Nurse Gill, are you sure they are all right?" I asked, for it was +almost too good news to be true. +</p> + +<p> +"Master Dot is as right as possible, though he is a little palish, and +complains of his back and legs, which is only to be expected if they do +ache a bit. Miss Flurry has a cold, but we could not induce her to lie +in bed; she is sitting by the fire now on her father's knee, and Master +Dot is with them: but there, Miss Ruth said she was to be called as +soon as you woke, Miss Esther, though I did beg her not to put herself +about, and her head so terribly bad as it has been all day." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, nurse, don't disturb her," I pleaded, eagerly, "I am quite well, +there is nothing the matter with me. I want to get up this moment and +dress myself;" for a great longing came over me to join the the little +group downstairs. +</p> + +<p> +"Not so fast, Miss Esther," she returned, good-humoredly. "You've had a +fine sleep, to be sure, and young things will stand a mortal amount of +fatigue; but there isn't a speck of color in your face, my poor lamb. +Well, well," as I showed signs of impatience—"I won't disturb Miss +Ruth, but I will fetch you some coffee and bread-and-butter, and we +will see how you will feel then." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Gill was a dragon in her way, so I resigned myself to her +peremptory kindness. When she trotted off on her charitable errand, I +leaned on my elbow and looked out of the window. It was Sunday evening, +I remembered, and the quiet peacefulness of the scene was in strangest +contrast to the horrors of yesterday; the wind had lulled, and the big +curling waves ceased to look terrible in the sunlight; the white spray +tossed lightly hither and thither, and the long line of dark seaweed +showed prettily along the yellow sands. The bitter war of winds and +waves was over, and the defeated enemy had retired with spent fury, and +sunk into silence. Could it be a dream? had we really lived through +that dreadful nightmare? But at this moment Nurse Gill interrupted the +painful retrospect by placing the fragrant coffee and brown +bread-and-butter before me. +</p> + +<p> +I ate and drank eagerly, to please myself as well as her, and then I +reiterated my intention to get up. It cost me something, however, to +persevere in my resolution. My limbs trembled under me, and seemed to +refuse their support in the strangest way, and the sight of my pale +face almost frightened me, and I was grateful to Nurse Gill when she +took the brush out of my shaking hand and proceeded to manipulate the +long tangled locks. +</p> + +<p> +"You are no more fit than a baby to dress yourself, Miss Esther," said +the good old creature, in a vexed voice. "And to think of drowning all +this beautiful hair. Why, there is seaweed in it I do declare, like a +mermaid." +</p> + +<p> +"The rocks were covered with it," I returned, in a weary indifferent +voice; for Mrs. Gill's officiousness tired me, and I longed to free +myself from her kindly hands. +</p> + +<p> +When I was dressed, I crept very slowly downstairs. My courage was +oozing away fast, and I rather dreaded all the kind inquiries that +awaited me. But I need not have been afraid. +</p> + +<p> +Dot clapped his hands when he saw me, and Mr. Lucas put down Flurry and +came to meet me. +</p> + +<p> +"You ought not to have exerted yourself," he said, reproachfully, as +soon as he looked at me; and then he took hold of me and placed me in +the armchair, and Flurry brought me a footstool and sat down on it, Dot +climbed up on the arm of the chair and propped himself against me, and +Miss Ruth rose softly from her couch and came across the room and +kissed me. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Esther, how pale you look!" she said, anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +"She will soon have her color back again," returned Mr. Lucas, looking +at me kindly. I think he wanted to say something, but the sight of my +weakness deterred him. I could not have borne a word. The tears were +very near the surface now, so near that I could only close my eyes and +lean my head against Dot; and, seeing this, they very wisely left me +alone. I recovered myself by-and-by, and was able to listen to the talk +that went on around me. The children's tongues were busy as usual; +Flurry had gone back to her father, and she and Dot were keeping up a +brisk fire of conversation across the hearth-rug. I could not see Mr. +Lucas' face, as he had moved to a dark corner, but Miss Ruth's couch +was drawn full into the firelight, and I could see the tears glistening +on her cheek. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't talk any more about it, my darlings," she said at last. "I feel +as though I should never sleep again, and I am sure it is bad for +Esther." +</p> + +<p> +"It does not hurt me," I returned, softly. "I suppose shipwrecked +sailors like to talk over the dangers they escape; somehow everything +seems so far away and strange to-night, as though it had happened +months ago." But though I said this I could not help the nervous thrill +that seemed to pass over me now and then. +</p> + +<p> +"Shall I read to you a little?" interrupted Mr. Lucas, quietly. "The +children's talk tires your head;" and without waiting for an answer, he +commenced reading some of my favorite hymns and a lovely poem, in a low +mellow voice that was very pleasant and soothing. +</p> + +<p> +Nurse came to fetch Flurry, and then Dot went too, but Mr. Lucas did +not put down the book for a long time. I had ceased to follow the +words; the flicker of the firelight played fitfully before my eyes. The +quiet room, the shaded lamplight, the measured cadence of the reader's +voice, now rising, now falling, lulled me most pleasantly. I must have +fallen asleep at last, for Flossy woke me by pushing his black nose +into my hand; for when I sat up and rubbed my eyes Mr. Lucas was gone, +and only Miss Ruth was laughing softly as she watched me. +</p> + +<p> +"Giles went away half an hour ago," she said amused at my perplexed +face. "He was so pleased when he looked up and found you were asleep. I +believe your pale face frightened him, but I shall tell him you look +much better now." +</p> + +<p> +"My head feels less bewildered," was my answer. +</p> + +<p> +"You are beginning to recover yourself," she returned, decidedly; "now +you must be a good child and go to bed;" and I rose at once. +</p> + +<p> +As I opened the drawing-room door, Mr. Lucas came out from his study. +</p> + +<p> +"Were you going to give me the slip?" he said, pleasantly. "I wanted to +bid you good-by, as I shall be off in the morning before you are awake." +</p> + +<p> +"Good by," I returned, rather shyly, holding out my hand; but he kept +it a moment longer than usual. +</p> + +<p> +"Esther, you must let me thank you," he said, abruptly. "I know but for +you I must have lost my child. A man's gratitude for such a mercy is a +strong thing, and you may count me your friend as long as I live." +</p> + +<p> +"You are very good," I stammered, "but I have done nothing; and there +was Dot, you know." I am afraid I was very awkward, but I dreaded his +speaking to me so, and the repressed emotion of his face and voice +almost frightened me. +</p> + +<p> +"There, I have made you quite pale again," he said, regretfully. "Your +nerves have not recovered from the shock. Well, we will speak of this +again; good-night, my child, and sleep well," and with another kind +smile he left me. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap19"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XIX. +</h3> + +<h3> +A LETTER FROM HOME. +</h3> + +<p> +I was so young and healthy that I soon recovered from the shock, and in +a few days I had regained strength and color. Mr. Lucas had gone to see +mother, and the day after his visit she wrote a fond incoherent letter, +full of praises of my supposed heroism. Allan, to whom I had narrated +everything fully, wrote more quietly, but the underlying tenderness +breathed in every word for Dot and me touched me greatly. Dot had not +suffered much; he was a little more lame, and his back ached more +constantly. But it was Flurry who came off worst; her cold was on her +chest, and when she threw it off she had a bad cough, and began to grow +pale and thin; she was nervous, too, and woke every night calling out +to me or Dot, and before many days were over Miss Ruth wrote to her +brother and told him that Flurry would be better at home. +</p> + +<p> +We were waiting for his answer, when Miss Ruth brought a letter to my +bedside from mother, and sat down, as usual, to hear the contents, for +I used to read her little bits from my home correspondence, and she +wanted to know what Uncle Geoffrey thought about Flurry. My sudden +exclamation frightened her. +</p> + +<p> +"What is wrong, Esther? It is nothing about Giles?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, no!" I returned, the tears starting to my eyes, "but I must go +home at once; Carrie is very ill, they are afraid it is an attack of +rheumatic fever. Mother writes in such distress, and there is a message +from Uncle Geoffrey, asking me to pack up and come to them without +delay. There is something about Flurry, too; perhaps you had better +read it." +</p> + +<p> +"I will take the letter away with me. Don't hurry too much, Esther; we +will talk it over at breakfast, and there is no train now before +eleven, and nurse will help you to pack." +</p> + +<p> +That was just like Miss Ruth—no fuss, no unnecessary words, no adding +to my trouble by selfish regrets at my absence. She was like a man in +that, she never troubled herself about petty details, as most women do, +but just looked straight at the point in question. +</p> + +<p> +Her calmness reassured me, and by breakfast-time I was able to discuss +matters quietly. +</p> + +<p> +"I have sent nurse to your room, Esther," she said, as she poured out +the coffee; "the children have had their bread and milk, and have gone +out to play; it is so warm and sunny, it will not hurt Flurry. The pony +carriage will be round here at half-past ten, so you will have plenty +of time, and I mean to drive you to the station myself." +</p> + +<p> +"You think of everything," I returned, gratefully. "Have you read the +letter? Does it strike you that Carrie is so very ill?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am afraid so," she admitted, reluctantly; "your mother says she has +been ailing some time, only she would not take care of herself, and +then she got wet, and took her class in her damp things. I am afraid +you have a long spell of nursing before you; rheumatic fever sometimes +lasts a long time. Your uncle says something about a touch of pleurisy +as well." +</p> + +<p> +I pushed away my plate, for I could not eat. I am ashamed to say a +strong feeling of indignation took possession of me. +</p> + +<p> +"She would not give up," I burst out, angrily: "she would not come here +to recruit herself, although she owned she felt ill; she has just gone +on until her strength was exhausted and she was not in a state for +anything, and now all this trouble and anxiety must come on mother, and +she is not fit for it." +</p> + +<p> +"Hush, Esther; you must not feel like this," she returned, gently. +"Poor Carrie will purchase wisdom dearly; depend upon it, the knowledge +that she has brought on this illness through her own self-will will be +the sharpest pang of all. You must go home and be a comfort to them +all, as you have been our comfort," she added, sweetly; "and, Esther, I +have been thinking over things, and you must trust Dot to me. We shall +all return to the Cedars, most likely to-morrow, and I will promise not +to let him out of my sight." +</p> + +<p> +And as I regarded her dubiously, she went on still more eagerly: +</p> + +<p> +"You must let me keep him, Esther. Flurry is so poorly, and she will +fret over the loss of her little companion; and with such a serious +illness in the house, he would only be an additional care to you." And +as she seemed so much in earnest, I consented reluctantly to wait for +mother's decision; for, after all, the child would be dull and +neglected, with Jack at school, and mother and me shut up in Carrie's +sick room. So in that, as in all else, Miss Ruth was right. +</p> + +<p> +Dot cried a little when I said good-by to him; he did not like seeing +me go away, and the notion of Carrie's illness distressed him, and +Flurry cried, too, because he did, and then Miss Ruth laughed at them +both. +</p> + +<p> +"You silly children," she said, "when we are all going home to-morrow, +and you can walk over and see Esther every day, and take her flowers +and nice things for Carrie." Which view of the case cheered them +immensely, and we left them with their heads very close together, +evidently planning all sorts of surprises for Carrie and me. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Ruth talked very cheerfully up to the last moment, and then she +grew a little silent and tearful. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall miss you so, Esther, both here and at the Cedars," she said +tenderly. "I feel it may be a long time before you come to us again; +but there, I mean to see plenty of you," she went on, recovering +herself. "I shall bring Dot every day, if it be only for a few +minutes!" And so she sent me away half comforted. +</p> + +<p> +It was a dreary journey, and I was thankful when it was over; there was +no one to meet me at the station, so I took one of the huge lumbering +flies, and a sleepy old horse dragged me reluctantly up the steep +Milnthorpe streets. +</p> + +<p> +It was an odd coincidence, but as we passed the bank and I looked out +of the window half absently, Mr. Lucas came down the steps and saw me, +and motioned to the driver to stop. +</p> + +<p> +"I am very sorry to see you here," he said, gravely. "I met Dr. Cameron +just now, and he told me your mother had written to recall you." +</p> + +<p> +"Did he say how Carrie was?" I interrupted anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +"She is no better, and in a state of great suffering; it seems she has +been imprudent, and taken a severe chill; but don't let me keep you, if +you are anxious to go on." But I detained him a moment. +</p> + +<p> +"Flurry seems better this morning," I observed; "her cough is less +hard." +</p> + +<p> +He looked relieved at that. +</p> + +<p> +"I have written for them to come home to-morrow, and to bring Dot, too; +we will take care of him for you, and make him happy among us, and you +will have enough on your hands." +</p> + +<p> +And then he drew back, and went slowly down High street, but the +encounter had cheered me; I was beginning to look on Mr. Lucas as an +old friend. +</p> + +<p> +Uncle Geoffrey was on the door-step as I drove up, and we entered the +house together. +</p> + +<p> +"This is a bad business, I am afraid," he said, in a subdued voice, as +he closed the parlor door; "it goes to one's heart to see that pretty +creature suffer. I am glad, for all our sakes, that Allan will be here +next week." And then I remembered all at once that the year was out, +and that Allan was coming home to live; but he had said so little about +it in his last letters that I was afraid of some postponement. +</p> + +<p> +"He is really coming, then?" I exclaimed, in joyful surprise; this was +good news. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, next Thursday; and I shall be glad of the boy's help," he +replied, gruffly; and then he sat down and told me about Carrie. +</p> + +<p> +Foolish girl, her zeal had indeed bordered upon madness. It seems Uncle +Geoffrey had taxed her with illness a fortnight ago, and she had not +denied it; she had even consented to take the remedies prescribed her +in the way of medicine, but nothing would induce her to rest. The +illness had culminated last Sunday; she had been caught in a heavy +rain, and her thin summer walking dress had been drenched, and yet she +had spent the afternoon as usual at the schools. A shivering fit that +evening had been the result. +</p> + +<p> +"She has gradually got worse and worse," continued Uncle Geoffrey; "it +is not ordinary rheumatic fever; there is certainly sciatica, and a +touch of pleurisy; the chill on her enfeebled, worn-out frame has been +deadly, and there is no knowing the mischief that may follow. I would +not have you told before this, for after a nasty accident like yours, a +person is not fit for much. Let me look at you, child. I must own you +don't stem much amiss. Now listen to me, Esther. I have elected Deborah +head-nurse, and you must work under her orders. Bless me," catching a +glimpse of a crimson disappointed face, for I certainly felt +crestfallen at this, "a chit like you cannot be expected to know +everything. Deb is a splendid nurse; she has a head on her shoulders, +that woman," with a little chuckle; "she has just put your mother out +of the room, because she says that she is no more use than a baby, so +you will have to wheedle yourself into her good graces if you expect to +nurse Carrie." +</p> + +<p> +"Why did you send for me, if you expect me to be of no use?" I +returned, with decided temper, for this remark chafed me; but he only +chuckled again. +</p> + +<p> +"Deborah sent for you, not I," he said, in an amused voice. "'Couldn't +we have Miss Esther home?' she asked; 'she has her wits about her,' +which I am afraid was a hit at somebody." +</p> + +<p> +This soothed me down a little, for my dignity was sadly affronted that +Deborah should be mistress of the sick room. I am afraid after all that +I was not different from other girls, and had not yet outgrown what +mother called the "porcupine stage" of girlhood, when one bristles all +over at every supposed slight, armed at every point with minor +prejudices, like "quills upon the fretful porcupine." +</p> + +<p> +Uncle Geoffrey bade me run along, for he was busy, so I went upstairs +swallowing discontent with every step, until I looked up and saw +mother's pale sad face watching me from a doorway, and then every +unworthy feeling vanished. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, my darling, thank Heaven I have you again!" she murmured, folding +me in her loving arms; "my dear child, who has never given me a +moment's anxiety." And then I knew how heavily Carrie's willfulness had +weighed on that patient heart. +</p> + +<p> +She drew me half weeping into Carrie's little room, and we sat down +together hand in hand. The invalid had been moved into mother's room, +as it was large and sunny, and I could hear Deborah moving quietly as I +passed the door. +</p> + +<p> +Mother would not speak about Carrie at first; she asked after Dot, and +was full of gratitude to Miss Ruth for taking care of him; and then the +dear soul cried over me, and said she had nearly lost us both, and that +but for me her darling boy would have been drowned. Mr. Lucas had told +her so. +</p> + +<p> +"He was full of your praises, Esther," she went on, drying her eyes; +"he says he and Miss Ruth will be your fast friends through life; that +there is nothing he would not do to show his gratitude; it made me so +proud to hear it." +</p> + +<p> +"It makes me proud, too, mother; but I cannot have you talking about +me, when I am longing to hear about Carrie." +</p> + +<p> +Mother sighed and shook her head, and then it was I noticed a tremulous +movement about her head, and, oh! how gray her hair was, almost white +under her widow's cap. +</p> + +<p> +"There is not much to say," she said, despondently; "your uncle will +not tell me if she be in actual danger, but he looks graver every day. +Her sufferings are terrible; just now Deborah would not let me remain, +because I fretted so, as though a mother can help grieving over her +child's agony. It is all her own fault, Esther, and that makes it all +the harder to bear." +</p> + +<p> +I acquiesced silently, and then I told mother that I had come home to +spare her, and do all I could for Carrie—as much as Deborah would +allow. +</p> + +<p> +"You must be very prudent, then," she replied, "for Deborah is very +jealous, and yet so devoted, that one cannot find fault with her. +Perhaps she is right, and I am too weak to be of much use, but I should +like you to be with your sister as much as possible." +</p> + +<p> +I promised to be cautious, and after a little more talk with mother I +laid aside my traveling things and stole gently into the sick room. +</p> + +<p> +Deborah met me on the threshold with uplifted finger and a resolute +"Hush!" on her lips. She looked more erect and angular than ever, and +there was a stern forbidding expression on her face; but I would not be +daunted. +</p> + +<p> +I caught her by both her hands, and drew her, against her will, to the +door. +</p> + +<p> +"I want to speak to you," I whispered; and when I had her outside, I +looked straight into her eyes. "Oh, Deb," I cried, "is it not dreadful +for all of us? and I have been in such peril, too. What should we do +without you, when you know all about nursing, and understand a sick +room so well? You are everything to us, Deborah, and we are so +grateful, and now you must let me help you a little, and spare you +fatigue. I daresay there are many little things you could find for me +to do." +</p> + +<p> +I do not know about the innocence of the dove, but certainly the wisdom +of the serpent was in my speech; my humility made Deborah throw down +her arms at once. "Any little thing that I can do," I pleaded, and her +face relaxed and her hard gray eyes softened. +</p> + +<p> +"You are always ready to help a body, Miss Esther, I will say that, and +I don't deny that I am nearly ready to drop with fatigue through not +having my clothes off these three nights. The mistress is no more help +than a baby, not being able to lift, or to leave off crying." +</p> + +<p> +"And you will let me help you?" I returned, eagerly, a little too +eagerly, for she drew herself up. +</p> + +<p> +"I won't make any promises, Miss Esther," she said, rather stiffly; +"the master said I must have help, and I am willing to try what you can +do, though you are young and not used to the ways of a sick room," +finished the provoking creature; but I restrained my impatience. +</p> + +<p> +"Any little thing that I can do," I repeated, humbly; and my +forbearance had its reward, for Deborah drew aside to let me pass into +the room, only telling me, rather sharply, to say as little possible +and keep my thoughts to myself. Deborah's robust treatment was +certainly bracing, and it gave me a sort of desperate courage; but the +first shock of seeing Carrie was dreadful. +</p> + +<p> +The poor girl lay swathed in bandages, and as I entered the room her +piteous moanings almost broke my heart. Burning with fever, and racked +by pain, she could find no ease or rest. +</p> + +<p> +As I kissed her she shuddered, and her eyes looked at me with a +terrible sadness in them. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, my poor dear, how sorry I am!" I whispered. I dared not say more +with Deborah hovering jealously in the back-ground. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't be sorry," she groaned; "I deserved it. I deserve it all." And +then she turned away her face, and her fair hair shaded it from me. Did +I hear it aright; and was it a whispered prayer for patience that +caught my ear as she turned away. +</p> + +<p> +Deborah would not let me stay long. She sent me down to have tea and +talk to mother, but she promised that I should come up again by-and-by. +I was surprised as I opened the parlor door to find Mr. Lucas talking +to Uncle Geoffrey and mother with Jack looking up at him with +awe-struck eyes. He came forward with an amused smile, as he noticed my +astonished pause. +</p> + +<p> +"You did not expect to see me here," he said, in his most friendly +manner; "but I wanted to inquire after your sister. Mrs. Cameron has +been so good as to promise me a cup of tea, so you must make it." +</p> + +<p> +That Mr. Lucas should be drinking tea at mother's table! somehow, I +could not get over my surprise. I had never seen him in our house +before, and yet in the old times both he and his wife had been frequent +visitors. Certainly he seemed quite at home. +</p> + +<p> +Mother had lighted her pretty china lamp, and Uncle Geoffrey had thrown +a log of wood on the fire, and the parlors looked bright and cozy, and +even Jack's hair was brushed and her collar for once not awry. I +suppose Mr. Lucas found it pleasant, for he stayed quite late, and I +wondered how he could keep his dinner waiting so long; but then Uncle +Geoffrey was such a clever man, and could talk so well. I thought I +should have to leave them at last, for it was nearly the time that +Deborah wanted me; but just then Mr. Lucas looked across at me and +noticed something in my face. +</p> + +<p> +"You want to be with your sister," he said, suddenly interpreting my +thoughts, "and I am reducing my cook to despair. Good-by, Mrs. Cameron. +Many thanks for a pleasant hour." And then he shook hands with us all, +and left the room with Uncle Geoffrey. +</p> + +<p> +"What an agreeable, well-bred man," observed mother. "I like him +exceedingly, and yet people call him proud and reserved." +</p> + +<p> +"He is not a bit," I returned, indignantly; and then I kissed mother, +and ran upstairs. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap20"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XX. +</h3> + +<h3> +"YOU WERE RIGHT, ESTHER." +</h3> + +<p> +For many, many long weeks, I might say months, my daily life was lived +in Carrie's sick room. +</p> + +<p> +What a mercy it is that we are not permitted to see the course of +events—that we take moment by moment from the Father's hand, not +knowing what lies before us! +</p> + +<p> +It was September when I had that little altercation with Deborah on the +threshold, and when she drew aside for me to pass into that +dimly-lighted sickroom; it was Christmas now, and I was there still. +Could I have foreseen those months, with their record of suffering, +their hours of changeless monotony, well might my courage have failed. +As it was, I watched the slow progression of nights and days almost +indifferently; the walls of the sickroom closed round me, shutting me +out from the actual world, and concentrating my thoughts on the frail +girl who was fighting against disease and death. +</p> + +<p> +So terrible an illness I pray to Heaven I may never see again; sad +complications producing unheard-of tortures, and bringing the sufferer +again and again to the very brink of death. +</p> + +<p> +"If I could only die: if I were only good enough to be allowed to die!" +that was the prayer she breathed; and there were times when I could +have echoed it, when I would rather have parted with her, dearly as I +loved her, than have seen her so racked with agony; but it was not to +be. The lesson was not completed. There are some who must be taught to +live, who have to take back "the turned lesson," as one has beautifully +said, and learn it more perfectly. +</p> + +<p> +If I had ever doubted her goodness in my secret soul, I could doubt no +longer, when I daily witnessed her weakness and her exceeding patience. +She bore her suffering almost without complaint, and would often hide +from us how much she had to endure. +</p> + +<p> +"'It is good to be still.' Do you remember that, Esther?" she said +once; and I knew she was quoting the words of one who had suffered. +</p> + +<p> +After the first day I had no further difficulty with Deborah; she soon +recognized my usefulness, and gave me my share of nursing without +grudging. I took my turn at the night-watching, and served my first +painful apprenticeship in sick nursing. Mother could do little for us; +she could only relieve me for a couple of hours in the afternoon, +during which Uncle Geoffrey insisted that I should have rest and +exercise. +</p> + +<p> +Allan did not come home when we expected him; he had to postpone his +intention for a couple of months. This was a sad disappointment, as he +would have helped us so much, and mother's constant anxiety that my +health should not suffer by my close confinement was a little trying at +times. I was quite well, but it was no wonder that my fresh color faded +a little, and that I grew a little quiet and subdued. The absence of +life and change must be pernicious to young people; they want air, +movement, a certain stirring of activity and bustle to keep time with +their warm natures. +</p> + +<p> +Every one was very kind to me. Uncle Geoffrey would take me on his +rounds, and often Miss Ruth and Flurry would call for me, and drive me +into the country, and they brought me books and fruit and lovely +flowers for Carrie's room; and though I never saw Mr. Lucas during his +few brief visits he never failed to send me a kind message or to ask if +there was anything he could do for us. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Ruth, or Ruth, as I always called her now, would sometimes come up +into the sickroom and sit for a few minutes. Carrie liked to see her, +and always greeted her with a smile; but when Mrs. Smedley heard of it, +and rather peremptorily demanded admittance, she turned very pale, and +calling me to her, charged me, in an agitated voice, never to let her +in. "I could not see her, I could not," she went on, excitedly. "I like +Miss Ruth; she is so gentle and quiet. But I want no one but you and +mother." +</p> + +<p> +Mother once—very injudiciously, as Uncle Geoffrey and I thought—tried +to shake this resolution of Carrie's. +</p> + +<p> +"Poor Mrs. Smedley seems so very grieved and disappointed that you will +not see her, my dear. This is the third time she has called this week, +and she has been so kind to you." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, mother, don't make me see her!" pleaded Carrie, even her lips +turning white; and of course mother kissed her and promised that she +should not be troubled. But when she had left the room Carrie became +very much agitated. +</p> + +<p> +"She is the last I ought to see, for she helped to bring me to this; +she taught me to disobey my mother—yes, Esther, she did indeed!" as I +expostulated in a shocked manner. "She was always telling me that my +standard was not high enough—that I ought to look above even the +wisest earthly parents. She said my mother had old-fashioned notions of +duty; that things were different in her young days; that, in spite of +her goodness, she had narrow views; that it was impossible for her even +to comprehend me." +</p> + +<p> +"Dear Carrie, surely you could not have agreed with her?" I asked, +gently; but her only answer was a sigh as she sank back upon her +pillows. +</p> + +<p> +It was the evening Allan was expected, I remember. It was December now, +and for nine weeks I had been shut up in that room, with the exception +of my daily walk or drive. +</p> + +<p> +Deborah had gone back to her usual work; it was impossible to spare her +longer. But she still helped in the heaviest part of the nursing, and +came from time to time to look after us both. +</p> + +<p> +Dot had remained for six weeks at the Cedars; but mother missed him so +much that Uncle Geoffrey decided to bring him home; and how glad and +thankful I was to get my darling back! +</p> + +<p> +I saw very little of him, however, for, strange to say, Carrie did not +care for him and Jack to stay long in the room. I was not surprised +that Jack fidgeted her, for she was restless and noisy, and her loud +voice and awkward manners would jar sadly on an invalid; but Dot was +different. +</p> + +<p> +In a sick room he was as quiet as a little mouse, and he had such nice +ways. It grieved me to see Carrie shade her eyes in that pained manner +when he hobbled in softly on his crutches. +</p> + +<p> +"Carrie always cries when she sees me!" Dot said once, with a little +quiver of his lips. Alas! we neither of us understood the strange +misery that even the sight of her afflicted little brother caused her. +</p> + +<p> +Mother had gone downstairs when she had made her little protest about +Mrs. Smedley, and we were left alone together. I was resting in the low +cushioned chair Ruth had sent me in the early days of Carrie's illness, +and was watching the fire in a quiet fashion that had become habitual +to me. The room looked snug and pleasant in the twilight; the little +bed on which I slept was in the farthest corner; a bouquet of hothouse +flowers stood on the little round table, with some books Mr. Lucas had +sent up for me. It must have looked cheerful to Carrie as she lay among +the pillows; but to my dismay there were tears on her cheeks—I could +see them glistening in the firelight. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you feel less well to-night, dear?" I asked, anxiously, as I took a +seat beside her; but she shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +"I am better, much better," was her reply, "thanks to you and Deborah +and Uncle Geoffrey," but her smile was very sad as she spoke. "How good +you have been to me, Esther—how kind and patient! Sometimes I have +looked at you when you were asleep over there, and I have cried to see +how thin and weary you looked in your sleep, and all through me." +</p> + +<p> +"Nonsense," I returned, kissing her; but my voice was not quite clear. +</p> + +<p> +"Allan will say so to-night when he sees you—you are not the same, +Esther. Your eyes are graver, and you seem to have forgotten how to +laugh, and it is all my fault." +</p> + +<p> +"Dear Carrie, I wish you would not talk so." +</p> + +<p> +"Let me talk a little to-night," she pleaded. "I feel better and +stronger, and it will be such a relief to tell you some of my thoughts. +I have been silent for nine weeks, and sometimes the pent-up pain has +been more than I could bear." +</p> + +<p> +"My poor Carrie," stroking the thin white hand on the coverlid. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I am that," she sighed. "Do you remember our old talks together? +Oh, how wise you were, Esther, but I would not listen to you; you were +all for present duties. I can recollect some of your words now. You +told me our work lay before us, close to us, at our very feet, and yet +I would stretch out my arms for more, till my own burdens crushed me, +and I fell beneath them." +</p> + +<p> +"You attempted too much," I returned; "your intention was good, but you +overstrained your powers." +</p> + +<p> +"You are putting it too mildly," she returned, with a great sadness in +her voice. "Esther, I have had time to think since I have lain here, +and I have been reviewing your life and mine. I wanted to see where the +fault lay, and how I had missed my path. God was taking away my work +from me; the sacrifice I offered was not acceptable." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, my dear, hush!" But she lifted her hand feebly and laid on my lips. +</p> + +<p> +"It was weeks before I found it out, but I think I see it clearly now. +We were both in earnest about our duty, we both wanted to do the best +we could for others; but, Esther, after all it was you who were right; +you did not turn against the work that was brought to you—your +teaching, and house, and mother, and Dot, and even Jack—all that came +first, and you knew it; you have worked in the corner of the vineyard +that was appointed to you, and never murmured over its barrenness and +narrow space, and so you are ripe and ready for any great work that may +be waiting for you in the future. 'Faithful in little, faithful in +much'—how often have I applied those words to you!" +</p> + +<p> +I tried to stem the torrent of retrospection, but nothing would silence +her; as she said herself, the pent up feelings must have their course. +But why did she judge herself so bitterly? It pained me inexpressibly +to hear her. +</p> + +<p> +"If I had only listened to you!" she went on; "but my spiritual +self-will blinded me. I despised my work. Oh, Esther! you cannot +contradict me; you know how bitterly I spoke of the little Thornes; how +I refused to take them into my heart; how scornfully I spoke of my +ornamental brickmaking." +</p> + +<p> +I could not gainsay her words on that point; I knew her to be wrong. +</p> + +<p> +"I wanted to choose my work; that was the fatal error. I spurned the +little duties at my feet, and looked out for some great work that I +must do. Teaching the little Thornes was hateful to me; yet I could +teach ragged children in the Sunday-school for hours. Mending Jack's +things and talking to mother were wearisome details; yet I could toil +through fog and rain in Nightingale lane, and feel no fatigue. My work +was impure, my motives tainted by self-will. Could it be accepted by +Him who was subject to His parents for thirty years, who worked at the +carpenter's bench, when He could have preached to thousands?" And here +she broke down, and wept bitterly. +</p> + +<p> +What could I answer? How could I apply comfort to one so sorely +wounded? And yet through it all who could doubt her goodness? +</p> + +<p> +"Dear Carrie," I whispered, "if this be all true, if there be no +exaggeration, no morbid conscientiousness in all you say, still you +have repented, and your punishment has been severe." +</p> + +<p> +"My punishment!" she returned, in a voice almost of despair. "Why do +you speak of it as past, when you know I shall bear the consequences of +my own imprudence all my life long? This is what is secretly fretting +me. I try to bow myself to His will; but, oh! it is so hard not to be +allowed to make amends, not to be allowed to have a chance of doing +better for the future, not to be allowed to make up for all my +deficiencies in the past; but just to suffer and be a burden." +</p> + +<p> +I looked at her with frightened eyes. What could she mean, when she was +getting better every day, and Uncle Geoffrey hoped she might be +downstairs by Christmas Day? +</p> + +<p> +"Is it possible you do not know, Esther?" she said incredulously; but +two red spots came into her thin cheeks. "Have not mother and Uncle +Geoffrey told you?" +</p> + +<p> +"They have told me nothing," I repeated. "Oh, Carrie, what do you mean? +You are not going to die?" +</p> + +<p> +"To die? Oh, no!" in a tone of unutterable regret. "Should I be so +sorry for myself if I thought that? I am getting well—well," with a +slight catching of her breath—"but when I come downstairs I shall be +like Dot." +</p> + +<p> +I do not know what I said in answer to this terrible revelation. Uncle +Geoffrey had never told me; Carrie had only extorted the truth from him +with difficulty. My darling girl a cripple! It was Carrie who tried to +comfort me as I knelt sobbing beside her. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Esther, how you cry! Don't, my dear, don't. It makes me still more +unhappy. Have I told you too suddenly? But you must know. That is why I +could not bear to see Dot come into the room. But I mean to get over my +foolishness." +</p> + +<p> +But I attempted no answer. "Cruel, cruel!" were the only words that +forced themselves through my teeth. +</p> + +<p> +"You shall not say that," she returned, stroking my hair. "How can it +be cruel if it be meant for my good? I have feared this all along, +Esther; the mischief has set in in one hip. It is not the suffering, +but the thought of my helplessness that frightens me." And here her +sweet eyes filled with tears. +</p> + +<p> +Oh, how selfish I was, when I ought to have been comforting her, if +only the words would come! And then a sudden thought came to me. +</p> + +<p> +"They also serve who only stand and wait," and I repeated the line +softly, and a sort of inspiration came over me. +</p> + +<p> +"Carrie," I said, embracing her, "this must be the work the loving +Saviour has now for you to do. This is the Cross He would have you take +up, and He who died to save the sinful and unthankful will give you +grace sufficient to your need." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I begin to think it is!" she returned; and a light came into her +eyes, and she lay back in a satisfied manner. "I never thought of it in +that way; it seemed my punishment—just taking away my work and leaving +me nothing but helplessness and emptiness." +</p> + +<p> +"And now you will look at it as still more difficult work. Oh, Carrie, +what will mine be compared to that—to see you patient under suffering, +cheerfully enduring, not murmuring or repining? What will that be but +preaching to us daily?" +</p> + +<p> +"That will do," she answered faintly; "I must think it out. You have +done more for me this afternoon than any one has." And seeing how +exhausted she was, I left her, and stole back to my place. +</p> + +<p> +She slept presently, and I sat still in the glimmering firelight, +listening to the sounds downstairs that told of Allan's arrival; but I +could not go down and show my tear-stained face. Deborah came up +presently to lay the little tea-table, and then Carrie woke up, and I +waited on her as usual, and tried to coax her failing appetite; and +by-and-by came the expected tap at the door. +</p> + +<p> +Of course it was Allan; no one but himself would come in with that +alert step and cheerful voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Carrie, my dear," he said, affectionately, bending over her as +she looked up at him—whatever he felt at the sight of her changed face +he kept to himself; he kissed me without a word and took his seat by +the bedside. +</p> + +<p> +"You know, Allan?" she whispered, as he took her hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I know; Uncle Geoffrey has told me; but it may not be as bad as +you think—you have much for which to be thankful; for weeks he never +thought you would get over it. What does it matter about the lameness, +Carrie, when you have come back to us from the very jaws of death?" and +his voice trembled a little. +</p> + +<p> +"I felt badly about it until Esther talked to me," she returned. +"Esther has been such a nurse to me, Allan." +</p> + +<p> +He looked at me as she said this, and his eyes glistened. "Esther is +Esther," he replied, laconically; but I knew then how I satisfied him. +</p> + +<p> +"When we were alone together that night—for I waited downstairs to say +good-night to him, while Deborah stayed with Carrie—he suddenly drew +me toward him and looked in my face. +</p> + +<p> +"Poor child," he said, tenderly, "it is time I came home to relieve +you; you have grown a visionary, unsubstantial Esther, with large eyes +and a thin face; but somehow I never liked the look of you so well." +</p> + +<p> +That made me smile. "Oh, Allan, how nice it is to have you with me +again!" +</p> + +<p> +"Nice! I should think so; what walks we will have, by the bye. I mean +to have Carrie downstairs before a week is over; what is the good of +you both moping upstairs? I shall alter all that." +</p> + +<p> +"She is too weak too move," I returned, dubiously. +</p> + +<p> +"But she is not too weak to be carried. You are keeping her too quiet, +and she wants rousing a little; she feeds too much on her own thoughts, +and it is bad for her; she is such a little saint, you know," continued +Allan, half jestingly, "she wants to be leavened a little with our +wickedness. +</p> + +<p> +"She is good; you would say so if you heard her." +</p> + +<p> +"Not a bit more good than some other people—Miss Ruth, for example;" +but I could see from his mischievous eyes that he was not thinking of +Ruth. How well and handsome he was looking: he had grown broader, and +there was an air of manliness about him—"my bonnie lad," as I called +him. +</p> + +<p> +I went to bed that night with greater contentment in my heart, because +Allan had come home; and even Carrie seemed cheered by the hopeful view +he had taken of her case. +</p> + +<p> +"He thinks, perhaps, that after some years I may not be quite so +helpless," she whispered, as I said good-night to her, and her face +looked composed and quiet in the fading firelight; "anyhow, I mean to +bear it as well as I can, and not give you more trouble." +</p> + +<p> +"I do not think it a trouble," was my answer as her arms released me; +and as I lay awake watching the gleaming shadows in the room, I thought +how sweet such ministry is to those we love, their very helplessness +endearing them to us. After all, this illness had drawn us closer +together, we were more now as sisters should be, united in sympathy and +growing deeper into each other's hearts. "How pleasant it is to live in +unity!" said the Psalmist; and the echo of the words seemed to linger +in my mind until I fell asleep. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap21"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XXI. +</h3> + +<h3> +SANTA CLAUS. +</h3> + +<p> +After all Allan's sanguine prognostication was not fulfilled. The new +year had opened well upon us before Carrie joined the family circle +downstairs. +</p> + +<p> +But the sickroom was a different place now, when we had Allan's cheery +visits to enliven our long evenings. A brighter element seemed +introduced into the house. I wondered if Carrie felt as I did! if her +heart leaped up with pleasure at the sound of his merry whistle, or the +light springing footsteps that seemed everywhere! +</p> + +<p> +His vigorous will seemed to dominate over the whole household; he would +drag me out peremptorily for what he called wholesome exercise, which +meant long, scrambling walks, which sent me home with tingling pulses +and exuberant spirits, until the atmosphere of the sick room moderated +and subdued them again. +</p> + +<p> +He continued to relieve me in many ways; sometimes he would come in +upon us in his quick, alert way, and bundle me and my work-basket +downstairs, ordering me to talk to mother, while he gave Carrie a dose +of his company. Perhaps the change was good for her, for I always +fancied she looked less depressed when I saw her again. +</p> + +<p> +Our choice of reading displeased him not a little; the religious +biographies and sentimental sacred poetry that Carrie specially +affected were returned to the bookshelves by our young physician with +an unsparing hand; he actually scolded me in no measured terms for what +he called my want of sense. +</p> + +<p> +"What a goose you are, Esther," he said, in a disgusted voice; "but, +there, you women are all alike," continued the youthful autocrat. "You +pet one another's morbid fancies, and do no end of harm. Because Carrie +wants cheering, you keep her low with all these books, which feed her +gloomy ideas. What do you say? she likes it; well, many people like +what is not good for them. I tell you she is not in a fit state for +this sort of reading, and unless you will abide by my choice of books I +will get Uncle Geoffrey to forbid them altogether." +</p> + +<p> +Carrie looked ready to cry at this fierce tirade, but I am afraid I +only laughed in Allan's face; still, we had to mind him. He set me to +work, I remember, on some interesting book of travels, that carried +both of us far from Milnthorpe, and set us down in wonderful tropical +regions, where we lost ourselves and our troubles in gorgeous +descriptions. +</p> + +<p> +One evening I came up and found Allan reading the "Merchant of Venice," +to her, and actually Carrie was enjoying it. +</p> + +<p> +"He reads so well," she said, rather apologetically, as she caught +sight of my amused face; she did not like to own even to me that she +found it more interesting than listening to Henry Martyn's life. +</p> + +<p> +It charmed us both to hear the sound of her soft laugh; and Allan went +downstairs well satisfied with the result of his prescription. +</p> + +<p> +On Christmas Eve I had a great treat. Ruth wanted me to spend the +evening with her; and as she took Carrie into her confidence, she got +her way without difficulty. Carrie arranged every thing; mother was to +sit with her, and then Allan and Deborah would help her to bed. I was +to enjoy myself and have a real holiday, and not come home until Allan +fetched me. +</p> + +<p> +I had quite a holiday feeling as I put on my new cashmere dress. Ruth +had often fetched me for a drive, but I had not been inside the Cedars +for months, and the prospect of a long evening there was delicious. +</p> + +<p> +Flurry ran out into the hall to meet me, and even Giles' grave face +relaxed into a smile as he hoped "Miss Cameron was better;" but Flurry +would hardly let me answer, she was so eager to show me the wreaths +auntie and she had made, and to whisper that she had hung out a +stocking for Santa Claus to fill, and that Santa Claus was going to +fill one for Dot too. +</p> + +<p> +"Come in, you naughty little chatterbox, and do not keep Esther in the +hall," exclaimed Ruth, from the curtained doorway; and the next minute +I had my arms round her. Oh, the dear room! how cozy it looked after my +months of absence; no other room, not even mother's pretty drawing-room +at Combe Manor, was so entirely to my taste. +</p> + +<p> +There was the little square tea-table, as usual, and the dark blue +china cups and saucers, and the wax candles in their silver sconces, +and white china lamp, and the soft glow of the ruddy firelight playing +into the dim corner. +</p> + +<p> +Ruth drew up the low rocking chair, and took off my hat and jacket, and +smoothed my hair. +</p> + +<p> +"How nice you look Esther, and what a pretty dress! Is that Allan's +present? But you are still very thin, my dear. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I am all right," I returned, carelessly, for what did it matter +how I looked, now Carrie was better? "Dear Ruth," I whispered, as she +still stood beside me, "I can think of nothing but the pleasure of +being with you again." +</p> + +<p> +"I hope you mean to include me in that last speech," said a voice +behind me; and there was Mr. Lucas standing laughing at us. He had come +through the curtained doorway unheard, and I rose in some little +confusion to shake hands. +</p> + +<p> +To my surprise, he echoed Miss Ruth's speech; but then he had not seen +me for three months. I had been through so much since we last met. +</p> + +<p> +"What have they been doing to you, my poor child?" Those were actually +his words, and his eyes rested on my face with quite a grieved, pitying +expression. +</p> + +<p> +"Allan told me I was rather unsubstantial-looking," I returned, trying +to speak lightly; but somehow the tears came to my eyes. "I was so +tired before he came home, but now I am getting rested." +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder at Dr. Cameron letting a child like you work so hard," he +retorted, quite abruptly. He had called me child twice, and I was +eighteen and a half, and feeling so old—so old. I fancy Ruth saw my +lip quiver, for she hastily interposed: +</p> + +<p> +"Let her sit down, Giles, and I will give her some tea. She looks as +cold as a little starved robin." +</p> + +<p> +And after that no one spoke again of my altered looks. It troubled me +for a few minutes, and then it passed out of my mind. +</p> + +<p> +After all, it could not be helped if I were a little thin and worn. The +strain of those three months had been terrible; the daily spectacle of +physical suffering before my eyes, the wakeful nights, the long +monotonous days, and then the shock of knowing that Carrie must be a +cripple, had all been too much for me. +</p> + +<p> +We talked about it presently, while Flurry sat like a mouse at my feet, +turning over the pages of a new book of fairy tales. The kind sympathy +they both showed me broke down the barrier of my girlish reserve, and I +found comfort in speaking of the dreary past. I did not mind Mr. Lucas +in the least: he showed such evident interest in all I told them. After +dinner he joined us again in the drawing-room, instead of going as +usual for a short time to his study. +</p> + +<p> +"When are you coming back to stay with us?" he asked, suddenly, as he +stirred the logs until they emitted a shower of sparks. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," echoed his sister, "Carrie is so much better now that we think +it is high time for you to resume your duties; poor Flurry has been +neglected enough." +</p> + +<p> +My answer was simply to look at them both; the idea of renewing work +had never occurred to me; how could Carrie spare me? And yet ought I +not to do my part all the more, now she was laid by? For a moment the +sense of conflicting duties oppressed me. +</p> + +<p> +"Please do not look pale over it," observed Mr. Lucas, kindly; "but you +do not mean, I suppose, to be always chained to your sister's couch? +That will do neither of you any good." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, no, I must work, of course," I returned, breathlessly. "Carrie +will not be able to do anything, so it is the more necessary for me, +but not yet—not until we have her downstairs." +</p> + +<p> +"Then we will give you three weeks' grace," observed Mr. Lucas, coolly. +"It is as you say, with your usual good sense, absolutely necessary +that one of you should work; and as Flurry has been without a governess +long enough, we shall expect you to resume your duties in three weeks' +time." +</p> + +<p> +I was a little perplexed by this speech, it was so dignified and +peremptory; but looking up I could see a little smile breaking out at +the corner of his mouth. Ruth too seemed amused. +</p> + +<p> +"Very well," I returned in the same voice; "I must be punctual, or I +shall expect my dismissal." +</p> + +<p> +"Of course you must be punctual," he retorted; and the subject dropped, +but I perceived he was in earnest under his jesting way. Flurry's +governess was wanted back, that was clear. +</p> + +<p> +As for me, the mere notion of resuming my daily work at the Cedars was +almost too delightful to contemplate. I had an odd idea, that missing +them all had something to do with my sober feelings. I felt it when I +went up to kiss Flurry in her little bed; the darling child was lying +awake for me. +</p> + +<p> +She made me lie down on the bed beside her, and hugged me close with +her warm arms, and her hair fell over my face like a veil, and then +prattled to me about Santa Claus and the wonderful gifts she expected. +</p> + +<p> +"Will Santa Claus bring you anything, Esther?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not much, I fear," was my amused answer. We were rather a gift-loving +family, and at Combe Manor our delight had been to load the breakfast +table on Christmas day with presents for every member of the family, +including servants; but of course now our resources were limited, and I +expected few presents; but in my spare time I had contrived a few +surprises in the shape of work. A set of embroidered baby linen for +Flurry's best doll, dainty enough for a fairy baby; a white fleecy +shawl for mother, and another for Carrie, and a chair-back for Ruth; +she was fond of pretty things, but I certainly did not look for much in +return. +</p> + +<p> +Allan had brought me that pretty dress from London, and another for +Carrie, and he had not Fortunatus' purse, poor fellow! +</p> + +<p> +"I have got a present for you," whispered Flurry, and I could imagine +how round and eager her eyes were; I think with a little encouragement +she would have told me what it was; but I assured her that I should +enjoy the surprise. +</p> + +<p> +"It won't keep you awake trying to guess, will it?" she asked, +anxiously; and when I said no, she seemed a little disappointed. +</p> + +<p> +"Dot has got one too," she observed, presently; but I knew all about +that. Dot was laboriously filling an album with his choicest works of +art. His fingers were always stained with paint or Indian ink at meal +times, and if I unexpectedly entered the room, I could see a +square-shaped book being smuggled away under the tablecloth. +</p> + +<p> +I think these sudden rushes were rather against the general finish of +the pictures, causing in some places an unsightly smudge or a blotchy +appearance. In one page the Tower of Babel was disfigured by this very +injudicious haste, and the bricks and the builders were wholly +indistinguishable for a sad blotch of ochre; still, the title page made +up for all such defects: "To my dear sister, Esther, from her +affectionate little brother, Frankie." +</p> + +<p> +"Aunt Ruth has one, too," continued Flurry; but at this point I thought +it better to say good-night. As it was, I found Allan had been waiting +for me nearly half-an-hour, and pretended to growl at me for my +dawdling, though in reality he was thoroughly enjoying his talk with +Ruth. +</p> + +<p> +Carrie was awake when I entered the room; she was lying watching the +fire. She welcomed me with her sweetest smile, and though I fancied her +cheek was wet as I kissed it, her voice was very tranquil. +</p> + +<p> +"Have you had a pleasant evening, Esther?" +</p> + +<p> +"Very pleasant. Have you missed me very much, darling?" +</p> + +<p> +"I always miss you," she replied, gently; "but Allan has done his best +to make the time pass quickly. And then dear mother was so good; she +has been sitting with me ever so long; we have had such a nice talk. +Somehow I begin to feel as if I had never known what mother was before." +</p> + +<p> +I knew Carrie wanted to tell me all about it, but I pretended I was +tired, and that it was time to be asleep. So she said no more; she was +submissive to us even in trifles now; and very soon I heard the sound +of her soft, regular breathing. +</p> + +<p> +As for me, I laid wide awake for hours; my evening had excited me. The +thought of resuming my happy duties at the Cedars pleased and +exhilarated me. How kind and thoughtful they had been for my comfort, +how warmly I had been welcomed! +</p> + +<p> +I fell to sleep at last, and dreamed that Santa Claus had brought me a +mysterious present. The wrappers were so many that Deborah woke me +before I reached the final. I remember I had quite a childish feeling +of disappointment when my pleasant dream was broken. +</p> + +<p> +What a Christmas morning that was! Outside the trees were bending with +hoar frost, a scanty whiteness lay on the lawn, and the soft mysterious +light of coming snow seemed to envelope everything. Inside the fire +burned ruddily, and Carrie lay smiling upon her pillows, with a little +parcel in her outstretched hands. I thought of my unfinished dream, and +told it to her as I unfolded the silver paper that wrapped the little +box. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Carrie!" I exclaimed, for there was her little amethyst cross and +beautiful filagree chain; that had been father's gift to her, the +prettiest ornament she possessed, and that had been my secret +admiration for years. +</p> + +<p> +"I want you to have it," she said, smiling, well pleased at my +astonished face. "I can never wear it again, Esther; the world and I +have parted company. I shall like to see you in it. I wish it were +twice as good; I wish it were of priceless value, for nothing is too +good for my dear little sister." +</p> + +<p> +I was very near crying over the little box, and Carrie was praising the +thickness and beauty of her shawl, when in came Dot, with his +scrap-book under his arm, and Jack, with a wonderful pen-wiper she had +concocted, with a cat and kitten she had marvelously executed in gray +cloth. +</p> + +<p> +Nor was this all. Downstairs a perfect array of parcels was grouped +round my plate. There was a book from Allan, and a beautiful little +traveling desk from Uncle Geoffrey. Mother had been searching in her +jewel case, and had produced a pearl-ring, which she presented to me +with many kisses. +</p> + +<p> +But the greatest surprise of all was still in store for me. Flurry's +gift proved to be a very pretty little photograph of herself and +Flossy, set in a velvet frame. Ruth's was an ivory prayer-book: but +beside it lay a little parcel, directed in Mr. Lucas' handwriting, and +a note inside begging me to accept a slight tribute of his gratitude. I +opened it with a trembling hand, and there was an exquisite little +watch, with a short gold chain attached to it—a perfect little beauty, +as even Allan declared it to be. +</p> + +<p> +I was only eighteen, and I suppose most girls would understand my +rapture at the sight. Until now a silver watch with a plain black guard +had been my only possession; this I presented to Jack on the spot, and +was in consequence nearly hugged to death. +</p> + +<p> +"How kind, how kind!" was all I could say; and mother seemed nearly as +pleased as I was. As for Uncle Geoffrey and Allan, they took it in an +offhand and masculine fashion. +</p> + +<p> +"Very proper, very prettily done," remarked Uncle Geoffrey, +approvingly. "You see he has reason to be grateful to you, my dear, and +Mr. Lucas is just the man to acknowledge it in the most fitting way." +</p> + +<p> +"I always said he was a brick," was Allan's unceremonious retort. "It +is no more than he ought to have done, for your pluckiness saved +Flurry." But to their surprise I turned on them with hot cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +"I have done nothing, it is all their kindness and goodness to me: it +is far too generous. How ever shall I thank him?" And then I snatched +up my treasure, and ran upstairs to show it to Carrie; and I do not +think there was a happier girl that Christmas morning than Esther +Cameron. +</p> + +<p> +The one drawback to my pleasure was—how I was to thank Mr. Lucas? But +I was spared this embarrassment, for he and Flurry waited after service +in the porch for us, and walked down High street. +</p> + +<p> +He came to my side at once with a glimmer of fun in his grave eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Miss Esther, has Santa Claus been good to you? or has he taken +too great a liberty?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Mr. Lucas," I began, in a stammering fashion, but he held up his +hand peremptorily. +</p> + +<p> +"Not a word, not a syllable, if you please; the debt is all on my side, +and you do not fancy it can be paid in such a paltry fashion. I am glad +you are not offended with me, that is all." And then he proceeded to +ask kindly after Carrie. +</p> + +<p> +His manner set me quite at my ease, and I was able to talk to him as +usual. Dot was at the window watching for our approach. He clapped his +hands delightedly at the sight of Mr. Lucas and Flurry. +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose I must come in a moment to see my little friend," he said, +in a kindly voice, and in another moment he was comfortably seated in +our parlor with Dot climbing on his knee. +</p> + +<p> +I never remember a happier Christmas till then, though, thank God, I +have known still happier ones since. True, Carrie could not join the +family gathering downstairs; but after the early dinner we all went up +to her room, and sat in a pleasant circle round the fire. +</p> + +<p> +Only Fred was missing; except the dear father who lay in the quiet +churchyard near Combe Manor; but we had bright, satisfactory letters +from him, and hoped that on the whole he was doing well. +</p> + +<p> +We talked of him a good deal, and then it was that Dot announced his +grand purpose of being an artist. +</p> + +<p> +"When I am a man," he finished, in a serious voice, "I mean to work +harder than Fred, and paint great big pictures, and perhaps some grand +nobleman will buy them of me." +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder what your first subject will be, Frankie?" asked Allan, in a +slightly amused voice. He was turning over Dot's scrap-book, and was +looking at the Tower of Babel in a puzzled way. +</p> + +<p> +"The Retreat of the Ten Thousand under Xenophon," was the perfectly +startling answer, at which Allan opened his eyes rather widely, and +Uncle Geoffrey laughed. Dot looked injured and a little cross. +</p> + +<p> +"People always laugh when I want to talk sense," he said, rather +loftily. +</p> + +<p> +"Never mind, Frankie, we won't laugh any more," returned Allan, eager +to soothe his favorite; "it is a big subject, but you have plenty of +years to work it out in, and after all the grand thing in me is to aim +high." Which speech, being slightly unintelligible, mollified Dot's +wrath. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap22"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XXII. +</h3> + +<h3> +ALLAN AND I WALK TO ELTHAM GREEN. +</h3> + +<p> +The next great event in our family annals was Carrie's first appearance +downstairs. +</p> + +<p> +Uncle Geoffrey had long wished her to make the effort, but she had made +some excuse and put it off from day to day; but at last Allan took it +into his head to manage things after his usual arbitrary fashion, and +one afternoon he marched into the room, and, quietly lifting Carrie in +his arms, as though she were a baby, desired me to follow with, her +crutches, while he carried her downstairs. +</p> + +<p> +Carrie trembled a good deal, and turned very white, but she offered no +remonstrance; and when Allan put her down outside the parlor door, she +took her crutches from me in a patient uncomplaining way that touched +us both. +</p> + +<p> +I always said we ought to have prepared Dot, but Allan would not hear +of my telling him; but when the door opened and Carrie entered, walking +slowly and painfully, being still unused to her crutches, we were all +startled by a loud cry from Dot. +</p> + +<p> +"She is like me! Oh, poor, poor Carrie!" cried the little fellow, with +a sob; and he broke into such a fit of crying that mother was quite +upset. It was in vain we tried to soothe him; that Carrie drew him +toward her with trembling arms and kissed him, and whispered that it +was God's will, and she did not mind so very much now; he only kept +repeating, "She is like me—oh, dear—oh dear! she is like me," in a +woe-begone little voice. +</p> + +<p> +Dot was so sensitive that I feared the shock would make him ill, but +Allan came at last to the rescue. He had been called out of the room +for a moment, and came back to find a scene of dire confusion—it took +so little to upset mother, and really it was heartbreaking to all of us +to see the child's grief. +</p> + +<p> +"Hallo, sonny, what's up now?" asked Allan, in a comical voice, lifting +up Dot's tear-stained face for a nearer inspection. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, she is like me," gasped Dot; "she has those horrid things, you +know; and it's too bad, it's too bad!" he finished, with another +choking sob. +</p> + +<p> +"Nonsense," returned Allan, with sturdy cheerfulness; "she won't use +them always, you silly boy." +</p> + +<p> +"Not always!" returned Dot, with a woe-begone, puckered-up face. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course not, you little goose—or gander, I mean; she may have to +hobble about on them for a year or two, perhaps longer; but Uncle Geoff +and I mean to set her all right again—don't we, Carrie?" Carrie's +answer was a dubious smile. She did not believe in her own recovery; +but to Dot, Allan's words were full of complete comfort. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I am so glad, I am so glad!" cried the unselfish little creature. +"I don't mind a bit for myself; I shouldn't be Dot without my sticks, +but it seemed so dreadful for poor Carrie." +</p> + +<p> +And then, as she kissed him, with tears in her eyes, he whispered "that +she was not to mind, for Allan would soon make her all right: he always +did." +</p> + +<p> +Carrie tried to be cheerful that evening, but it cost her a great +effort. It was hard returning to everyday life, without strength or +capacity for its duties, with no bright prospect dawning in the future, +only a long, gray horizon of present monotony and suffering. But here +the consolation of the Gospel came to her help; the severe test of her +faith proved its reality; and her submission and total abnegation of +will brought her the truest comfort in her hour of need. +</p> + +<p> +Looking back on this part of our lives, I believe Carrie needed just +this discipline; like many other earnest workers she made an idol of +her work. It cost her months of suffering before she realized that God +does not always need our work; that a chastened will is more acceptable +to Him than the labor we think so all-sufficient. Sad lesson to poor +human pride, that believes so much in its own efforts, and yet that +many a one laid by in the vigor of life and work, has to learn so +painfully. Oh, hardest of all work, to do nothing while others toil +round us, to wait and look on, knowing God's ways are not our ways, +that the patient endurance of helplessness is the duty ordained for us! +</p> + +<p> +Carrie had to undergo another ordeal the following day, for she was +just settled on her couch when Mrs. Smedley entered unannounced. +</p> + +<p> +I had never liked Mrs. Smedley; indeed, at one time I was very near +hating her; but I could not help feeling sorry for the woman when I saw +how her face twitched and worked at the sight of her favorite. +</p> + +<p> +Carrie's altered looks must have touched her conscience. Carrie was a +little nervous, but she soon recovered herself. +</p> + +<p> +"You must not be sorry for me," she said, taking her hand, for actually +Mrs. Smedley could hardly speak; tears stood in her hard eyes, and then +she motioned to me to leave them together. +</p> + +<p> +I never knew what passed between them, but I am sure Mrs. Smedley had +been crying when I returned to the room. She rose at once, making some +excuse about the lateness of the hour—and then she did what she never +had done before—kissed me quite affectionately, and hoped they would +soon see me at the vicarage. +</p> + +<p> +"There, that is over," said Carrie, as if to herself, in a relieved +tone; but she did not seem disposed for any questioning, so I let her +close her eyes and think over the interview in silence. +</p> + +<p> +The next day was a very eventful one. I had made up my mind to speak to +mother and Carrie that morning, and announce my intention of going back +to the Cedars. I was afraid it would be rather a blow to Carrie, and I +wanted to get it over. +</p> + +<p> +In two or three days the three weeks' leave of absence would be +over—Ruth would be expecting to hear from me. The old saying, +"<i>L'homme propose, Dieu dispose</i>," was true in this case. I had little +idea that morning, when I came down to breakfast, that all my cherished +plans were to be set aside, and all through old Aunt Podgill. +</p> + +<p> +Why, I had never thought of her for years; and, as far as I can tell, +her name had not been mentioned in our family circle, except on the +occasion of dear father's death, when Uncle Geoffrey observed that he +or Fred must write to her. She was father's and Uncle Geoffrey's aunt, +on their mother's side, but she had quarreled with them when they were +mere lads, and had never spoken to them since. Uncle Geoffrey was most +in her black books, and she had not deigned to acknowledge his letter. +</p> + +<p> +"A cantankerous old woman," I remember he had called her on that +occasion, and had made no further effort to propitiate her. +</p> + +<p> +It was rather a shock, then, to hear Aunt Podgill's name uttered in a +loud voice by Allan, as I entered the room, and my surprise deepened +into astonishment to find mother was absolutely crying over a +black-edged letter. +</p> + +<p> +"Poor Mrs. Podgill is dead," explained Uncle Geoffrey, in rather a +subdued voice, as I looked at him. +</p> + +<p> +But the news did not affect me much; I thought mother's handkerchief +need hardly be applied to her eyes on that account. +</p> + +<p> +"That is a pity, of course; but, then, none of us knew her," I +remarked, coldly. "She could not have been very nice, from your +account, Uncle Geoffrey, so I do not know why we have to be so sorry +for her death," for I was as aggrieved as possible at the sight of +mother's handkerchief. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, she was a cantankerous old woman," began Uncle Geoffrey; and +then he checked himself and added, "Heaven forgive me for speaking +against the poor old creature now she is dead." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, indeed, I have a great respect for Aunt Podgill," put in Allan; +and I thought his voice was rather curious, and there was a repressed +mirthful gleam in his eyes, and all the time mother went on crying. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, my dear," she sobbed at last, "I am very foolish to be so +overcome; but if it had only come in Frank's—in your father's time, it +might—it might have saved him;" and here she broke down. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, to be sure, poor thing!" ejaculated Uncle Geoffrey in a +sympathizing tone; "that is what is troubling her; but you must cheer +up, Dora, for, as I have always told you, Frank was never meant to be a +long-lived man." +</p> + +<p> +"What are you all talking about?" I burst out, with vexed impatience. +"What has Mrs. Podgill's death to do with father? and why is mother +crying? and what makes you all so mysterious and tiresome?" for I was +exasperated at the incongruity between mother's tears and Allan's +amused face. +</p> + +<p> +"Tell her," gasped out mother: and Uncle Geoffrey, clearing his voice, +proceeded to be spokesman, only Allan interrupted him at every word. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, you see, child, your mother is just a little upset at receiving +some good news—" +</p> + +<p> +"Battling good news," put in Allan. +</p> + +<p> +"It is natural for her, poor thing! to think of your father; but we +tell her that if he had been alive things would have shaped themselves +differently—" +</p> + +<p> +"Of course they would," from that tiresome Allan. +</p> + +<p> +"Aunt Podgill, being a cantankerous—I mean a prejudiced—person, would +never have forgotten her grudge against your father; but as in our last +moments 'conscience makes cowards of us all,' as Shakespeare has +it"—Uncle Geoffrey always quoted Shakespeare when he was agitated, and +Allan said, "Hear, hear!" softly under his breath—"she could not +forget the natural claims of blood; and so, my dear," clearing his +throat a little more, "she has left all her little fortune to your +mother; and a pretty little penny it is, close upon seven hundred a +year, and the furniture besides." +</p> + +<p> +"Uncle Geoffrey!" now it was my turn to gasp. Jack and Dot burst out +laughing at my astonished face; only Dot squeezed my hand, and +whispered, "Isn't it splendid, Essie?" Mother looked at me tearfully. +</p> + +<p> +"It is for your sakes I am glad, that my darling girls may not have to +work. Carrie can have every comfort now; and you can stay with us, +Esther, and we need not be divided any longer." +</p> + +<p> +"Hurrah," shouted Dot, waving his spoon over his head; but I only +kissed mother without speaking; a strange, unaccountable feeling +prevented me. If we were rich—or rather if we had this independence—I +must not go on teaching Flurry; my duty was at home with mother and +Carrie. +</p> + +<p> +I could have beaten myself for my selfishness; but it was true. +Humiliating as it is to confess it, my first feeling was regret that my +happy days at the Cedars were over. +</p> + +<p> +"You do not seem pleased," observed Allan, shrewdly, as he watched me. +</p> + +<p> +"I am so profoundly astonished that I am not capable of feeling," I +returned hastily; but I blushed a little guiltily. +</p> + +<p> +"It is almost too good to believe," he returned. "I never liked the +idea of you and Carrie doing anything, and yet it could not be helped; +so now you will all be able to stay at home and enjoy yourselves." +</p> + +<p> +Mother brightened up visibly at this. +</p> + +<p> +"That will be nice, will it not, Esther? And Dot can have his lessons +with you as usual. I was so afraid that Miss Ruth would want you back +soon, and that Carrie would be dull. How good of your Aunt Podgill to +make us all so happy! And if it were not for your father—" and here +the dear soul had recourse to her handkerchief again. +</p> + +<p> +If I was silent, no one noticed it; every one was so eager in detailing +his or her plans for the future. It was quite a relief when the lengthy +breakfast was over, and I was free to go and tell Carrie; somehow in +the general excitement no one thought of her. I reproached myself still +more for my selfishness, and called myself all manner of hard names +when I saw the glow of pleasure on her pale face. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Esther, how nice! How pleased dear mother must be! Now we shall +have you all to ourselves, and you need not be spending all your days +away from us." +</p> + +<p> +How strange! Carrie knew of my warm affection for Ruth and Flurry, and +yet it never occurred to her that I should miss my daily intercourse +with them. It struck me then how often our nearest and dearest +misunderstand or fail to enter into our feelings. +</p> + +<p> +The thought recurred to me more than once that morning when I sat at my +work listening to the discussion between her and mother. Carrie seemed +a different creature that day; the wonderful news had lifted her out of +herself, and she rejoiced so fully and heartily in our good fortune +that I was still more ashamed of myself, and yet I was glad too. +</p> + +<p> +"It seems so wonderful to me, mother," Carrie was saying, in her sweet +serious way, "that just when I was laid by, and unable to keep myself +or any one else, that this provision should be made for us." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, indeed; and then there is Dot, too, who will never be able to +work," observed mother. +</p> + +<p> +It was lucky Dot did not hear her, or we might have had a reproachful +<i>resume</i> of his artistic intentions. +</p> + +<p> +"Dear mother, you need not be anxious any longer over the fortune of +your two cripples," returned Carrie, tenderly. "I shall not feel so +much a burthen now; and then we shall have Esther to look after us." +And they both looked at me in a pleased, affectionate way. What could I +do but put down my work and join in that innocent, loving talk? +</p> + +<p> +At our early dinner that day Allan seemed a little preoccupied and +silent, but toward the close of the meal he addressed me in his +off-hand fashion. +</p> + +<p> +"I want you to come out with me this afternoon; mother can look after +Carrie." +</p> + +<p> +"It is a half holiday; may I come too?" added Jack, coaxingly. +</p> + +<p> +"Wait till you are asked, Miss Jacky," retorted Allan good-humoredly. +"No, I don't want your ladyship's company this afternoon; I must have +Esther to myself." And though Jack grumbled and looked discontented, he +would not change his decision. +</p> + +<p> +I had made up my mind to see Ruth, and tell her all about it; but it +never entered my head to dispute Allan's will if he wanted me to walk +with him. I must give up Ruth, that was all; and I hurried to put on my +things, that I might not keep him waiting, as he possessed his full +share of masculine impatience. +</p> + +<p> +I thought that he had some plan to propose to me, but to my surprise he +only talked about the most trivial subjects—the weather, the state of +the roads, the prospects of skating. +</p> + +<p> +"Where are we going?" I asked at last, for we were passing the Cedars, +and Allan rarely walked in that direction; but perhaps he had a patient +to see. +</p> + +<p> +"Only to Eltham Green," he returned briefly. +</p> + +<p> +The answer was puzzling. Eltham Green was half a mile from the Cedars, +and there was only one house there, beside a few scattered cottages; +and I knew Uncle Geoffrey's patient, Mr. Anthony Lambert, who lived +there, had died about a month ago. +</p> + +<p> +As Allan did not seem disposed to be communicative, I let the matter +rest, and held my peace; and a few minutes quick walking brought us to +the place. +</p> + +<p> +It was a little common, very wild and tangled with gorse, and in summer +very picturesque. Some elms bordered the road, and there was a large +clear-looking pond, and flocks of geese would waddle over the common, +hissing and thrusting out their yellow bills to every passer-by. +</p> + +<p> +The cottages were pretty and rustic-looking, and had gay little gardens +in front. They belonged to Mr. Lucas; and Eltham Cottage, as Mr. +Lambert's house was called, was his property also. +</p> + +<p> +Flurry and I had always been very fond of the common, where Flossy had +often run barking round the pond, after a family of yellow ducklings. +</p> + +<p> +"Eltham Cottage is still to let," I observed, looking up at the board; +"it is such a pretty house." +</p> + +<p> +Allan made no response to that, but bade me enter, as he wanted to look +at it. +</p> + +<p> +It was a long, two-storied cottage, with a veranda all round it, and in +summer a profusion of flowers—roses and clematis, and a splendid +passionflower—twined round the pillars and covered the porch. +</p> + +<p> +The woman who admitted us ushered us into a charming little hall, with +a painted window and a glass door opening on to the lawn. There was a +small room on one side of it, and on the other the dining room and +drawing-room. The last was a very long, pleasant room, with three +windows, all opening French fashion on to the veranda, and another +glass door leading into a pretty little conservatory. +</p> + +<p> +The garden was small, but very tastefully laid out; but there was a +southern wall, where peaches and nectarines were grown, and beehives +stood, and some pretty winding walks, which led to snug nooks, where +ferns or violets were hidden. +</p> + +<p> +"What a sweet place!" I exclaimed, admiringly, at which Allan looked +exultant; but he only bade me follow him into the upper rooms. +</p> + +<p> +These were satisfactory in every respect. Some were of sunny aspect, +and looked over the garden and some large park-like meadows; the front +ones commanded the common. +</p> + +<p> +"There is not a bad room in the house," said Allan; and then he made me +admire the linen-presses and old-fashioned cupboards, and the bright +red-tiled kitchen looking out on a laurestinus walk. +</p> + +<p> +"It is a dear house!" I exclaimed, enthusiastically, at which Allan +looked well-pleased. Then he took me by the arm, and drew me to a +little window-seat on the upper landing—a proceeding that reminded me +of the days at Combe Manor, when I sat waiting for him, and looking +down on the lilies. +</p> + +<p> +"I am glad you think so," he said, solemnly; "for I wanted to ask your +advice about an idea of mine; it came into my head this morning when we +were all talking and planning, that this house would be just the thing +for mother." +</p> + +<p> +"Allan!" I exclaimed, "you really do not mean to propose that we should +leave Uncle Geoffrey?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, of course not," with a touch of impatience, for he was always a +little hasty if people did not grasp his meaning at once, "but, you, +see, houses in Milnthorpe are scarce, and we are rather too tight a fit +at present. Besides, it is not quiet enough for Carrie: the noise of +the carts and gigs on Monday morning jars her terribly. What I propose +is, that you should all settle down here in this pretty countrified +little nook, and take Uncle Geoff and Deb with you, and leave Martha +and me to represent the Camerons in the old house in the High street." +</p> + +<p> +"But, Allan—" I commenced, dubiously, for I did not like the idea of +leaving him behind; but he interrupted me, and put his views more +forcibly before me. +</p> + +<p> +Carrie wanted quiet and country air, and so did Dot, and the +conservatory and garden would be such a delight to mother. Uncle +Geoffrey would be dull without us, and there was a nice little room +that could be fitted up for him and Jumbles; he would drive in to his +work every morning and he—Allan—could walk out and see us on two or +three evenings in the week. +</p> + +<p> +"I must be there, of course, to look after the practice. I am afraid I +am cut out for an old bachelor, Esther, like Uncle Geoff, for I do not +feel at all dismal at the thought of having a house to myself," +finished Allan with his boyish laugh. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap23"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XXIII. +</h3> + +<h3> +TOLD IN THE SUNSET. +</h3> + +<p> +What a clever head Allan had! I always said there was more in that boy +than half a dozen Freds! To think of such a scheme coming into his +mind, and driving us all nearly wild with excitement! +</p> + +<p> +Allan's strong will bore down all opposition. Mother's feeble +remonstrances, which came from a sheer terror of change; even Uncle +Geoffrey's sturdy refusal to budge an inch out of the old house where +he had lived so long, did not weigh a straw against Allan's solid +reasoning. +</p> + +<p> +It took a vast amount of talking, though, before our young autocrat +achieved his final victory, and went off flushed and eager to settle +preliminaries with Mr. Lucas. It was all sealed, signed, and delivered +before he came back. +</p> + +<p> +The pretty cottage at Eltham was to be ours, furnished with Aunt +Podgill's good old-fashioned furniture, and in the early days of April +we were to accomplish our second flitting. +</p> + +<p> +The only remaining difficulty was about Jack; but this Uncle Geoffrey +solved for us. The gig would bring him into Milnthorpe every morning, +and he could easily drive Jack to her school, and the walk back would +be good for her. In dark, wintry weather she could return with him, or, +if occasion required it, she might be a weekly boarder. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Lucas came back with Allan, and formally congratulated mother on +her good fortune. +</p> + +<p> +I do not know if it were my fancy, but he seemed a little grave and +constrained in his manners that evening, and scarcely addressed me at +all until the close of his visit. +</p> + +<p> +"Under the circumstances I am afraid Flurry will have to lose her +governess," he said, not looking at me, however, but at mother; and +though I opened my lips to reply, my mother answered for me. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, yes, I am afraid so. Carrie depends so much on her sister." +</p> + +<p> +"Of course, of course," he returned, hastily; and actually he never +said another word, but got up and said good-by to mother. +</p> + +<p> +But I could not let him go without a word after all his kindness to me; +so, as Allan had gone out, I followed him out into the hall, though he +tried to wave me back. +</p> + +<p> +"It is cold; I shall not open the hail door while you stand there, Miss +Esther." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I do not mind the cold one bit," I returned, nervously; "but I +want to speak to you a moment, Mr. Lucas. Will you give Ruth my love, +and tell her I will come and talk to her to-morrow, and—and I am so +sorry to part with Flurry." +</p> + +<p> +"You are not more sorry than she will be," he returned, but not in his +old natural manner; and then he begged me so decidedly to go back into +the warm room that I dared not venture on another word. +</p> + +<p> +It was very unsatisfactory; something must have put him out, I thought, +and I went back to mother feeling chilled and uncomfortable. Oh, dear! +how dependent we are for comfort on the words and manners of those +around us. +</p> + +<p> +I went to the Cedars the following afternoon, and had a long +comfortable talk with Ruth. She even laid aside her usual quiet +undemonstrativeness, and petted and made much of me, though she laughed +a little at what she called my solemn face. +</p> + +<p> +"Confess now, Esther, you are not a bit pleased about all this money!" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, indeed I am," I returned, quite shocked at this. "I am so +delighted for mother and Dot and Carrie." +</p> + +<p> +"But not for yourself," she persisted. +</p> + +<p> +There was no deceiving Ruth, so I made a full confession, and stammered +out, in great confusion, that I did not like losing her and Flurry; +that it was wrong and selfish, when Carrie wanted me so; but I knew +that even at Eltham I should miss the Cedars. +</p> + +<p> +She seemed touched at that. "You are a faithful soul, Esther; you never +forget a kindness, and you cannot bear even a slight separation from +those you love. We have spoiled you, I am afraid." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, indeed," I returned, rather sadly, "you have been far too good to +me." +</p> + +<p> +"That is a matter of opinion. Well, what am I to say to comfort you, +when you find fault with even your good luck? Will it make you any +better to know we shall all miss you dreadfully? Even Giles owned as +much; and as for Flurry, we had quite a piece of work with her." +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Lucas never even said he was sorry," I returned, in a piqued +voice. It was true I was quite spoiled, for I even felt aggrieved that +he did not join us in the drawing-room, and yet I knew he was in the +house. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, you do not know Giles," she answered, brightly; "he is one of the +unselfish ones, he would not have damped what he thought your happiness +for the world. You see, Esther, no one in their senses would ever +believe that you were really sorry at your stroke of good fortune; it +is only I who know you, my dear, that can understand how that is." +</p> + +<p> +Did she understand? Did I really understand myself? Anyhow, I felt +horribly abashed while she was speaking. I felt I had been conducting +myself in an unfledged girlish fashion, and that Ruth, with her staid +common sense, was reproving me. +</p> + +<p> +I determined then and there that no more foolish expression of regret +should cross my lips; that I would keep all such nonsense to myself; so +when Flurry ran in very tearful and desponding, I took Ruth's cue, and +talked to her as cheerfully as possible, giving her such vivid +descriptions of the cottage and the garden, and the dear little +honeysuckle arbor where Dot and she could have tea, that she speedily +forgot all her regrets in delicious anticipations. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, indeed," observed Ruth, as she benevolently contemplated us, "I +expect Flurry and I will be such constant visitors that your mother +will complain that there is no end of those tiresome Lucases. Run +along, Flurry, and see if your father means to come in and have some +tea. Tell him Esther is here." +</p> + +<p> +Flurry was a long time gone, and then she brought back a message that +her father was too busy, and she might bring him a cup there, and that +she was to give his kind regards to Miss Cameron, and that was all. +</p> + +<p> +I went home shortly after that, and found mother and Carrie deep in +discussion about carpets and curtains. They both said I looked tired +and cold, and that Ruth had kept me too long. +</p> + +<p> +"I think I am getting jealous of Ruth," Carrie said, with a gentle +smile. +</p> + +<p> +And somehow the remark did not please me; not that Carrie really meant +it, though; but it did strike me sometimes that both mother and she +thought that Ruth rather monopolized me. +</p> + +<p> +My visits to the Cedars became very rare after this, for we were soon +engrossed with the bustle of moving. For more than six weeks I trudged +about daily between our house and Eltham Cottage. There were carpets to +be fitted, and the furniture to be adapted to each room, and when that +was done, Allan and I worked hard in the conservatory; and here Ruth +often joined us, bringing with her a rare fern or plant from the +well-stocked greenhouses at the Cedars. She used to sit and watch us at +our labors, and say sometimes how much she wished she could help us, +and sometimes she spent an hour or two with Carrie to make up for my +absence. +</p> + +<p> +I rather reveled in my hard work, and grew happier every day, and the +cottage did look so pretty when we had finished. +</p> + +<p> +Ruth was with me all the last afternoon. We lighted fires in all the +rooms, and they looked so cozy. The table in the dining-room was spread +with Aunt Podgill's best damask linen and her massive old-fashioned +silver; and Deborah was actually baking her famous griddle cakes, to +the admiration of our new help, Dorcas, before the first fly, with +mother and Carrie and Dot, drove up to the door. I shall never forget +mother's pleased look as she stood in the little hall, and Carrie's +warm kiss as I welcomed them. +</p> + +<p> +"How beautiful it all looks!" she exclaimed; "how home-like and bright +and cozy; you have managed so well, Esther!" +</p> + +<p> +"Esther always manages well," observed dear mother, proudly. The extent +to which she believed in me and my resources was astonishing. She +followed me all over the house, praising everything. I was glad Ruth +heard her, and knew that I had done my best for them all. Allan +accompanied the others, and we had quite a merry evening. +</p> + +<p> +Ruth stayed to tea. "She was really becoming one of us!" as mother +observed; and Allan took her home. We all crowded into the porch to see +them off; even Carrie, who was getting quite nimble on her crutches. It +was a warm April night; the little common was flooded with moonlight; +the spring flowers were sleeping in the white rays, and the limes +glistened like silver. Uncle Geoffrey and I walked with them to the +gate, while Ruth got into her pony carriage. +</p> + +<p> +I did not like saying good-night to Allan; it seemed so strange for him +to be going back to the old house alone; but he burst into one of his +ringing laughs when I told him so. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, I like it," he said, cheerily; "it is good fun being monarch of +all I survey. Didn't I tell you I was cut out for an old bachelor? You +must come and make tea for me sometimes, when I can't get out here." +And then, in a more serious voice, he added, "It does put one into such +good spirits to see mother and you girls safe in this pretty nest." +</p> + +<p> +I had never been idle; but now the day never seemed long enough for my +numerous occupations, and yet they were summer days, too. +</p> + +<p> +The early rising was now an enjoyment to me. I used to work in the +garden or conservatory before breakfast, and how delicious those hours +were when the birds and I had it all to ourselves; and I hardly know +which sang the loudest, for I was very happy, very happy indeed, +without knowing why. I think this unreasoning and unreasonable +happiness is an attribute of youth. +</p> + +<p> +I had got over my foolish disappointment about the Cedars. Ruth kept +her word nobly, and she and Flurry came perpetually to the cottage. +Sometimes I spent an afternoon or evening at the Cedars, and then I +always saw Mr. Lucas, and he was most friendly and pleasant. He used to +talk of coming down one afternoon to see how I was getting on with my +fernery, but it was a long time before he kept his promise. +</p> + +<p> +The brief cloud, or whatever it was, had vanished and he was his own +genial self. Flurry had not another governess, but Ruth gave her +lessons sometimes, and on her bad days her father heard them. It was +rather desultory teaching, and I used to shake my head rather solemnly +when I heard of it; but Ruth always said that Giles wished it to be so +for the present. The child was not strong, and was growing fast, and it +would not hurt her to run wild a little. +</p> + +<p> +When breakfast was over, Dot and I worked hard; and in the afternoon I +generally read to Carrie; she was far less of an invalid now, and used +to busy herself with work for the poor while she lay on her couch and +listened. She used to get mother to help her sometimes, and then Carrie +would look so happy as she planned how this garment was to be for old +Nanny Stables, and the next for her little grandson Jemmy. With +returning strength came the old, unselfish desire to benefit others. It +put her quite into spirits one day when Mrs. Smedley asked her to cover +some books for the Sunday school. +</p> + +<p> +"How good of her to think of it; it is just work that I can do!" she +said, gratefully; and for the rest of the day she looked like the old +Carrie again. +</p> + +<p> +Allan came to see us nearly every evening. Oh, those delicious summer +evenings! how vividly even now they seem to rise before me, though +many, many happy years lie between me and them. +</p> + +<p> +Somehow it had grown a sort of habit with us to spend them on the +common. Mother loved the sweet fresh air, and would sit for hours among +the furze bushes and gorse, knitting placidly, and watching the +children at their play, or the cottagers at work in their gardens; and +Uncle Geoffrey, in his old felt hat, would sit beside her, reading the +papers. +</p> + +<p> +Allan used to tempt Carrie for a stroll over the common; and when she +was tired he and Jack and I would saunter down some of the long country +lanes, sometimes hunting for glow-worms in the hedges, sometimes +extending our walk until the moon shone over the silent fields, and the +night became sweet and dewy, and the hedgerows glimmered strangely in +the uncertain light. +</p> + +<p> +How cozy our little drawing-room always looked on our return! The lamp +would be lighted on the round table, and the warm perfume of flowers +seemed to steep the air with fragrance; sometimes the glass door would +lie open, and gray moths come circling round the light, and outside lay +the lawn, silvered with moonlight. Allan used to leave us regretfully +to go back to the old house at Milnthorpe; he said we were such a snug +party. +</p> + +<p> +When Carrie began to visit the cottages and to gather the children +round her couch on Sunday afternoons, I knew she was her old self +again. Day by day her sweet face grew calmer and happier; her eyes lost +their sad wistful expression, and a little color touched her wan cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +Truly she often suffered much, and her lameness was a sad hindrance in +the way of her usefulness; but her hands were always busy, and on her +well days she spent hours in the cottages reading to two or three old +people, or instructing the younger ones. +</p> + +<p> +It was touching to see her so thankful for the fragments of work that +still fell to her share, content to take the humblest task, if she only +might give but "a cup of cold water to one of these little ones;" and +sometimes I thought how dearly the Good Shepherd must love the gentle +creature who was treading her painful life-path so lovingly and +patiently. +</p> + +<p> +I often wondered why Mr. Lucas never kept his promise of coming to see +us; but one evening when Jack and Allan and I returned from our stroll +we found him sitting talking to mother and Uncle Geoffrey. +</p> + +<p> +I was so surprised at his sudden appearance that I dropped some of the +flowers I held in my hand, and he laughed as he helped me to pick them +up. +</p> + +<p> +"I hope I haven't startled you," he said, as we shook hands. +</p> + +<p> +"No—that is—I never expected to see you here this evening," I +returned, rather awkwardly. +</p> + +<p> +"Take off your hat, Esther," said mother, in an odd tone; and I thought +she looked flushed and nervous, just as she does when she wants to cry. +"Mr. Lucas has promised to have supper with us, and, my dear, he wants +you to show him the conservatory and the fernery." +</p> + +<p> +It was still daylight, though the sun was setting fast; we had returned +earlier than usual, for Allan had to go back to Milnthorpe, and he bade +us goodnight hastily as I prepared to obey mother. +</p> + +<p> +Jack followed us, but mother called her back, and asked her to go to +one of the cottages and fetch Carrie home. Such a glorious sunset met +our eyes as we stepped out on the lawn; the clouds were a marvel of +rose and violet and golden splendor; the windows of the cottage were +glittering with the reflected beams, and a delicious scent of lilies +was in the air. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Lucas seemed in one of his grave moods, for he said very little +until we reached the winding walk where the ferns were, and then—— +</p> + +<p> +I am not going to repeat what he said; such words are too sacred; but +it came upon me with the shock of a thunderbolt what he had been +telling mother, and what he was trying to make me understood, for I was +so stupid that I could not think what he meant by asking me to the +Cedars, and when he saw that, he spoke more plainly. +</p> + +<p> +"You must come back, Esther; we cannot do without you any longer," he +continued very gently, "not as Flurry's governess, but as her mother, +and as my wife." +</p> + +<p> +He was very patient with me, when he saw how the suddenness and the +wonder of it all upset me, that a man like Mr. Lucas could love me, and +be so clever and superior and good. How could such a marvelous thing +have happened? +</p> + +<p> +And mother knew it, and Uncle Geoffrey, for Mr. Lucas had taken +advantage of my absence to speak to them both, and they had given him +leave to say this to me. Well, there could be no uncertainty in my +answer. I already reverenced and venerated him above other men, and the +rest came easy, and before we returned to the house the first +strangeness and timidity had passed; I actually asked him—summoning up +all my courage, however—how it was he could think of me, a mere girl +without beauty, or cleverness, or any of the ordinary attractions of +girlhood. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know," he answered, and I knew by his voice he was smiling; +"it has been coming on a long time; when people know you they don't +think you plain, Esther, and to me you can never be so. I first knew +what I really felt when I came out of the room that dreadful night, and +saw you standing with drenched hair and white face, with Dot in your +arms and my precious Flurry clinging to your dress; when I saw you +tottering and caught you. I vowed then that you, and none other, should +replace Flurry's dead mother;" and when he had said this I asked no +more. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap24"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XXIV. +</h3> + +<h3> +RINGING THE CHANGES. +</h3> + +<p> +When Mr. Lucas took me to mother, she kissed me and shed abundance of +tears. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, my darling, if only your poor father could know of this," she +whispered; and when Uncle Geoffrey's turn came he seemed almost as +touched. +</p> + +<p> +"What on earth are we to do without you, child?" he grumbled, wiping +his eye-glasses. "There, go along with you. If ever a girl deserved a +good husband and got it, you are the one." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, indeed," sighed mother; "Esther is every one's right hand." +</p> + +<p> +But Mr. Lucas sat down by her side and said something so kind and +comforting that she soon grew more cheerful, and I went up to Carrie. +</p> + +<p> +She was resting a little in the twilight, and I knelt down beside her +and hid my face on her shoulder, and now the happy tears would find a +vent. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, Esther—why, my dear, what does this mean?" she asked, anxiously; +and then, with a sudden conviction dawning on her, she continued in an +excited voice—"Mr. Lucas is here; he has been saying something, +he—he——" And then I managed somehow to stammer out the truth. +</p> + +<p> +"I am so happy; but you will miss me so dreadfully, darling, and so +will Dot and mother." +</p> + +<p> +But Carrie took me in her arms and silenced me at once. +</p> + +<p> +"We are all happy in your happiness; you shall not shed a tear for +us—not one. Do you know how glad I am, how proud I feel that he should +think so highly of my precious sister! Where is he? Let me get up, that +I may welcome my new brother. So you and your dear Ruth will be +sisters," she said, rallying me in her gentle way, and that made me +smile and blush. +</p> + +<p> +How good Carrie was that evening! Mr. Lucas was quite touched by her +few sweet words of welcome, and mother looked quite relieved at the +sight of her bright face. +</p> + +<p> +"What message am I to take to Ruth?" he said to me, as we stood +together in the porch later on that evening. +</p> + +<p> +"Give her my dear love, and ask her to come to me," was my +half-whispered answer; and as I went to bed that night Carrie's words +rang in my ears like sweetest music—"You and Ruth will be sisters." +</p> + +<p> +But it was Allan who was my first visitor. Directly Uncle Geoffrey told +him what had happened, he put on his broad-brimmed straw hat, and +leaving Uncle Geoffrey to attend to the patients, came striding down to +the cottage. +</p> + +<p> +He had burst open the door and caught hold of me before I could put +down Dot's lesson book. The little fellow looked up amazed at his +radiant face. +</p> + +<p> +"What a brick you are, Esther, and what a brick he is!" fairly hugging +me. "I never was so pleased at anything in my life. Hurrah for Mr. +Lucas at the Cedars!" and Allan threw up his hat and caught it. No +wonder Dot looked mystified. +</p> + +<p> +"What does he mean?" asked the poor child; "and how hot you look, +Essie." +</p> + +<p> +"Listen to me, Frankie," returned Allan, sitting down by Dot. "The +jolliest thing in the world has happened. Esther has made her fortune; +she is going to have a good husband and a rich husband, and one we +shall all like, Dot; and not only that, but she will have a dear little +daughter as well." +</p> + +<p> +Dot fairly gasped as he looked at us both, and then he asked me rather +piteously if Allan was telling him a funny story to make him laugh. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, no, dear Dot," I whispered, bringing my face on a level with his, +and bravely disregarding Allan's quizzical looks. "It is quite true, +darling, although it is so strange I hardly know how to believe it +myself. But one day I am going to the Cedars." +</p> + +<p> +"To live there? to leave us? Oh, Essie!" And Dot's eyes grew large and +mournful. +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Lucas wants me, and Flurry. Oh, my darling, forgive me!" as a big +tear rolled down his cheek. "I shall always love you, Dot; you will not +lose me. Oh, dear! oh dear! what am I to say to him, Allan?" +</p> + +<p> +"You will not love me the most any longer, Essie." +</p> + +<p> +And as I took him in my arms and kissed him passionately his cheek felt +wet against mine. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Frankie, fie for shame!" interrupted Allan. "You have made Esther +cry, and just now, when she was so happy. I did not think you were so +selfish." +</p> + +<p> +But I would not let him go on. I knew where the pain lay. Dot was +jealous for the first time in his life, and for a long time he refused +to be comforted. +</p> + +<p> +Allan left us together by-and-by, and I took my darling on my lap and +listened to his childish exposition of grief and the recital of +grievances that were very real to him. How Flurry would always have me, +and he (Dot) would be dull and left out in the cold. How Mr. Lucas was +a very nice man; but he was so old, and he did not want him for a +brother—indeed, he did not want a brother at all. +</p> + +<p> +He had Allan and that big, stupid Fred—for Dot, for once in his sweet +life, was decidedly cross. And then he confided to me that he loved +Carrie very much, but not half so well as he loved me. He wished Mr. +Lucas had taken her instead. She was very nice and very pretty, and all +that, and why hadn't he? +</p> + +<p> +But here I thought it high time to interpose. +</p> + +<p> +"But, Dot, I should not have liked that at all. And I am so happy," I +whispered. +</p> + +<p> +"You love him—that old, old man, Essie!" in unmitigated astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +"He is not old at all," I returned, indignantly; for, in spite of his +iron-gray hair, Mr. Lucas could hardly be forty, and was still a +young-looking man. +</p> + +<p> +Dot gave a wicked little smile at that. In his present mood he rather +enjoyed vexing me. +</p> + +<p> +I got him in a better frame of mind by-and-by. I hardly knew what I +said, but I kissed him, and cried and told him how unhappy he made me, +and how pleased mother and Carrie and Jack were; and after that he left +off saying sharp things, and treated me to a series of penitent hugs, +and promised that he would not be cross with "my little girl" Flurry; +for after that day he always persisted in calling her "my little girl." +</p> + +<p> +Dot had been a little exhausting, so I went down to the bench near the +fernery to cool myself and secure a little quiet, and there Ruth found +me. I saw her coming over the grass with outstretched hands, and such a +smile on her dear face; and though I was so shy that I could scarcely +greet her, I could feel by the way she kissed me how glad—how very +glad—she was. +</p> + +<p> +"Dear Esther! My dear new sister!" she whispered. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Ruth, is it true?" I returned, blushing. "Last night it seemed +real, but this morning I feel half in a dream. It will do me good to +know that you are really pleased about this." +</p> + +<p> +"Can you doubt it, dearest?" she returned, reproachfully. "Have you not +grown so deep into our hearts that we cannot tear you out if you would? +You are necessary to all of us, Esther—to Flurry and me as to +Giles——" +</p> + +<p> +But I put my hand on her lips to stop her. It was sweet, and yet it +troubled me to know what he thought of me; but Ruth would not be +stopped. +</p> + +<p> +"He came home so proud and happy last night. 'She has accepted me, +Ruth,' he said, in such a pleased voice, and then he told me what you +had said about being so young and inexperienced." +</p> + +<p> +"That was my great fear," I replied, in a low voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Your youth is a fault that will mend," she answered, quaintly. "I wish +I could remember Giles' rhapsody—'So true, so unselfish, so womanly +and devoted.' By-the-by, I have forgotten to give you his message; he +will be here this afternoon with Flurry." +</p> + +<p> +We talked more soberly after a time, and the sweet golden forenoon wore +away as we sat there looking at the cool green fronds of the ferns +before us, with mother's bees humming about the roses. There was summer +over the land and summer in my heart, and above us the blue open sky of +God's Providence enfolding us. +</p> + +<p> +I was tying up the rose in the porch, when I saw Mr. Lucas and Flurry +crossing the common. Dot, who was helping me, grew a little solemn all +at once. +</p> + +<p> +"Here is your little girl, Essie," he said very gravely. My dear boy, +how could he? +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Esther," she panted, for she had broken away from her father at +the sight of us, "auntie has told me you are going to be my own mamma, +in place of poor mamma who died. I shall call you mammy. I was lying +awake ever so long last night, thinking which name it should be, and I +like that best." +</p> + +<p> +"You shall call me what you like, dear Flurry; but I am only Esther +now." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, but you will be mammy soon," she returned, nodding her little +head sagely. "Mamma was such a grand lady; so big and handsome, she was +older, too—" But here Mr. Lucas interrupted us. +</p> + +<p> +Dot received him in a very dignified manner. +</p> + +<p> +"How do you do?" he said, putting out his mite of a hand, in such an +old-fashioned way. I could see Mr. Lucas' lip curl with secret +amusement, and then he took the little fellow in his arms. +</p> + +<p> +"What is the matter, Dot? You do not seem half pleased to see me this +afternoon. I suppose you are very angry with me for proposing to take +Esther away. Don't you want an old fellow like me to be your brother?" +</p> + +<p> +Dot's face grew scarlet. Truth and politeness were sadly at variance, +but at last he effected a compromise. +</p> + +<p> +"Esther says you are not so very old, after all," he stammered. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Esther says that, does she?" in an amused voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Father is not old at all," interrupted Flurry, in a cross voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Never mind, so that Esther is satisfied," returned Mr. Lucas, +soothingly; "but as Flurry is going to be her little girl, you must be +my little boy, eh, Dot?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am Esther's and Allan's little boy," replied Dot, rather +ungraciously. We had spoiled our crippled darling among us, and had +only ourselves to blame for his little tempers. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, but you must be mine too," he replied, still more gently; and +then he whispered something into his ear. I saw Dot's sulky countenance +relax, and a little smile chase away his frown, and in another moment +his arms closed round Mr. Lucas' neck; the reconciliation was complete. +</p> + +<p> +What a happy autumn that was! But November found us strangely busy, for +we were preparing for my wedding. We were married on New Year's Day, +when the snow lay on the ground. A quiet, a very quiet wedding, it was. +I was married in my traveling dress, at Giles' expressed wish, and we +drove straight from the church door to the station, for we were to +spend the first few weeks in Devonshire. +</p> + +<p> +Dear Jessie, my old schoolmate, was my only bridesmaid; for Carrie +would not hear of fulfilling that office on her crutches. +</p> + +<p> +I have a vague idea that the church was very full and I have a misty +recollection of Dot, with very round eyes, standing near Allan; but I +can recall no more, for my thoughts were engaged by the solemn vows we +were exchanging. +</p> + +<p> +Three weeks afterward, and we were settled in the house that was to be +mine for so many happy years; but never shall I forget the sweetness of +that home-coming. +</p> + +<p> +Dear Ruth welcomed us on the threshold, and then took my hand and +Giles' and led us into the bright firelit room. Two little faces peeped +at us from the curtained recess, and these were Dot and Flurry. I had +them both in my arms at once. I would not let Giles have Flurry at +first till he threatened to take Dot. +</p> + +<p> +Oh, how happy we were. Ruth made tea for us, and I sat in my favorite +low chair. The children scrambled up on Giles' knee, and he peeped at +me between their eager faces; but I was quite content to let them +engross him; it was pleasure enough for me to watch them. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, how grand you look, Essie!" Dot said at last. "Your fingers are +twinkling with green and white stones, and your dress rustles like old +Mrs. Jameson's." +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "'And she shall walk in silk attire,<br /> + And silver have to spare,'"<br /> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +sang Giles. "Never mind Dot, Esther. Your brave attire suits you well." +</p> + +<p> +"She looks very nice," put in Ruth, softly; "but she is our dear old +Esther all the same." +</p> + +<p> +"Nonsense, auntie," exclaimed Flurry, in her sharp little voice. "She +is not Esther any longer; she is my dear new mammy." At which we all +laughed. +</p> + +<p> +I was always mammy to Flurry, though my other darlings called me +mother; for before many years were over I had Dots of my own—dear +little fat Winnie, her brother Harold, and baby Geoffrey—to whom Ruth +was always "auntie," or "little auntie," as my mischievous Harold +called her. +</p> + +<p> +As the years passed on there were changes at Eltham Cottage—some of +them sad and some of them pleasant, after the bitter-sweet fashions of +life. +</p> + +<p> +The first great sorrow of my married life was dear mother's death. She +failed a little after Harold's birth, and, to my great grief, she never +saw my baby boy, Geoffrey. A few months before he came into the world +she sank peacefully and painlessly to rest. +</p> + +<p> +Fred came up to the funeral, and stayed with Allan; he had grown a long +beard, and looked very manly and handsome. His pictures were never +accepted by the hanging committee; and after a few years he grew tired +of his desultory work, and thankfully accepted a post Giles had +procured for him in the Colonies. After this he found his place in +life, and settled down, and when we last heard from him he was on the +eve of marriage with a Canadian girl. He sent us her photograph, and +both Giles and I approved of the open, candid face and smiling brown +eyes, and thought Fred had done well for himself. +</p> + +<p> +Allan was a long time making his choice; but at last it fell on our new +vicar's daughter, Emily Sherbourne; for, three years after our +marriage, Mr. Smedley had been attacked by sudden illness, which +carried him off. +</p> + +<p> +How pleased I was when Allan told me that he and Emmie had settled it +between them. She was such a sweet girl; not pretty, but with a +lovable, gentle face, and she had such simple kindly manners, so +different from the girls of the present day, who hide their good +womanly hearts under such abrupt loud ways. Emily, or, as we always +called her, Emmie, was not clever, but she suited Allan to a nicety. +She was wonderfully amiable, and bore his little irritabilities with +the most placid good humor; nothing put her out, and she believed in +him with a credulity that amused Allan largely; but he was very proud +of her, and they made the happiest couple in the world, with the +exception of Giles and me. +</p> + +<p> +Carrie lost her lameness, after all; but not until she had been up to +London and had undergone skillful treatment under the care of a very +skillful physician. I shall always remember Dot's joy when she took her +first walk without her crutches. She came down to the Cedars with Jack, +now a fine well-grown girl, and I shall never forget her sweet April +face of smiles and tears. +</p> + +<p> +"How good God has been to me, Essie," she whispered, as we sat together +under the cedar tree, while Jack ran off for her usual romp with Winnie +and Harold. "I have just had to lie quiet until I learned the lesson He +wanted me to learn years ago, and now He is making me so happy, and +giving me back my work." +</p> + +<p> +It was just so; Carrie had come out of her painful ordeal strengthened +and disciplined, and fit to teach others. No longer the weak, dreamy +girl who stretched out over-eager hands for the work God in His wise +providence withheld from her, she had emerged from her enforced +retirement a bright helpful woman, who carried about her a secret fund +of joy, of which no earthly circumstances could deprive her. +</p> + +<p> +"My sweet sister Charity," Allan called her, and the poor of Milnthorpe +had reason to bless her; for early and late she labored among them, +tending the sick and dying, working often at Allan's side among his +poorer patients. +</p> + +<p> +At home she was Uncle Geoffrey's comfort, and a most sweet companion +for him and Jack. As for Dot, he lived almost entirely at the Cedars. +Giles had grown very fond of him, and we neither of us could spare him. +They say he will always be a cripple; but what does that matter, when +he spends day after day so happily in the little room Giles has fitted +up for him? +</p> + +<p> +We believe, after all, Dot will be an artist. He has taken a lifelike +portrait of my Harold that has delighted Giles, and he vows that he +shall have all the advantages he can give him; for Giles is very +rich—so rich that I almost tremble at the thought of our +responsibilities; only I know my husband is a faithful steward, and +makes a good use of his talents. Carrie is his almoner, and sometimes I +work with her. There are some almshouses which Giles is building in +which I take great interest, and where I mean to visit the old people, +with Winnie trotting by my side. +</p> + +<p> +Just now Giles came in heated and tired. "What, little wife, still +scribbling?" +</p> + +<p> +"Wait a moment, dear Giles," I replied. "I have just finished." +</p> + +<p> +And so I have—the few scanty recollections of Esther Cameron's life. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="finis"> +THE END. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Esther, by Rosa Nouchette Carey + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ESTHER *** + +***** This file should be named 6850-h.htm or 6850-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/6/8/5/6850/ + +Produced by Avinash Kothare, Tom Allen, Charles Franks and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. 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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: Esther + A Book for Girls + +Author: Rosa Nouchette Carey + +Posting Date: March 17, 2014 [EBook #6850] +Release Date: November, 2004 +First Posted: February 2, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ESTHER *** + + + + +Produced by Avinash Kothare, Tom Allen, Charles Franks and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. HTML version by +Al Haines. + + + + + + + + + + +ESTHER: + +A BOOK FOR GIRLS. + +BY + +ROSA NOUCHETTE CAREY + + + + +CONTENTS. + + +CHAPTER I. The Last Day at Redmayne House. + +CHAPTER II. The Arrival at Combe Manor. + +CHAPTER III. Dot. + +CHAPTER IV. Uncle Geoffrey. + +CHAPTER V. The Old House at Milnthorpe. + +CHAPTER VI. The Flitting. + +CHAPTER VII. Over the Way. + +CHAPTER VIII. Flurry and Flossy. + +CHAPTER IX. The Cedars. + +CHAPTER X. "I Wish I Had a Dot of My Own." + +CHAPTER XI. Miss Ruth's Nurse. + +CHAPTER XII. I Was Not Like Other Girls. + +CHAPTER XIII. "We Have Missed Dame Bustle." + +CHAPTER XIV. Playing in Tom Tidler's Ground. + +CHAPTER XV. Life at the Brambles. + +CHAPTER XVI. The Smugglers' Cave. + +CHAPTER XVII. A Long Night. + +CHAPTER XVIII. "You Brave Girl!" + +CHAPTER XIX. A Letter from Home. + +CHAPTER XX. "You Were Right, Esther." + +CHAPTER XXI. Santa Claus. + +CHAPTER XXII. Allan and I Walk to Eltham Green. + +CHAPTER XXIII. Told in the Sunset. + +CHAPTER XXIV. Ringing the Changes. + + + + +ESTHER + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +THE LAST DAY AT REDMAYNE HOUSE. + + +What trifles vex one! + +I was always sorry that my name was Esther; not that I found fault with +the name itself, but it was too grave, too full of meaning for such an +insignificant person. Some one who was learned in such matters--I think +it was Allan--told me once that it meant a star, or good fortune. + +It may be so, but the real meaning lay for me in the marginal note of +my Bible: Esther, fair of form and good in countenance, that Hadassah, +who was brought to the palace of Shushan, the beautiful Jewish queen +who loved and succored her suffering people; truly a bright particular +star among them. + +Girls, even the best of them, have their whims and fancies, and I never +looked at myself in the glass on high days and holidays, when a festive +garb was desirable, without a scornful protest, dumbly uttered, against +so shining a name. There was such a choice, and I would rather have +been Deborah or Leah, or even plain Susan, or Molly; anything homely, +that would have suited my dark, low-browed face. Tall and angular, and +hard-featured--what business had I with such a name? + +"My dear, beauty is only skin-deep, and common sense is worth its +weight in gold; and you are my good sensible Esther," my mother said +once, when I had hinted rather too strongly at my plainness. Dear soul, +she was anxious to appease the pangs of injured vanity, and was full of +such sweet, balmy speeches; but girls in the ugly duckling stage are +not alive to moral compliments; and, well--perhaps I hoped my mother +might find contradiction possible. + +Well, I am older and wiser now, less troublesomely introspective, and +by no means so addicted to taking my internal structure to pieces, to +find out how the motives and feelings work; but all the same, I hold +strongly to diversity of gifts. I believe beauty is a gift, one of the +good things of God; a very special talent, for which the owner must +give account. But enough of this moralizing, for I want to speak of a +certain fine afternoon in the year of our Lord, 18--well, never mind +the date. + +It was one of our red-letter days at Redmayne House--in other words, a +whole holiday; we always had a whole holiday on Miss Majoribanks' +birthday. The French governess had made a grand toilette, and had gone +out for the day. Fraulein had retired to her own room, and was writing +a long sentimental effusion to a certain "liebe Anna," who lived at +Heidelberg. As Fraulein had taken several of us into confidence, we had +heard a great deal of this Anna von Hummel, a little round-faced +German, with flaxen plaits and china-blue eyes, like a doll; and Jessie +and I had often wondered at this strong Teutonic attachment. Most of +the girls were playing croquet--they played croquet then--on the square +lawn before the drawing-room windows; the younger ones were swinging in +the lime-walk. Jessie and I had betaken ourselves with our books to a +corner we much affected, where there was a bench under a may-tree. + +Jessie was my school friend--chum, I think we called it; she was a +fair, pretty girl, with a thoroughly English face, a neat compact +figure, and manners which every one pronounced charming and lady-like; +her mind was lady-like too, which was the best of all. + +Jessie read industriously--her book seemed to rivet her attention; but +I was restless and distrait. The sun was shining on the limes, and the +fresh green leaves seemed to thrill and shiver with life: a lazy breeze +kept up a faint soughing, a white butterfly was hovering over the pink +may, the girls' shrill voices sounded everywhere; a thousand +undeveloped thoughts, vague and unsubstantial as the sunshine above us, +seemed to blend with the sunshine and voices. + +"Jessie, do put down your book--I want to talk." Jessie raised her +eyebrows a little quizzically but she was always amiable; she had that +rare unselfishness of giving up her own will ungrudgingly; I think this +was why I loved her so. Her story was interesting, but she put down her +book without a sigh. + +"You are always talking, Esther," she said, with a provoking little +smile; "but then," she added, quickly, as though she were afraid that I +should think her unkind, "I never heard other girls talk so well." + +"Nonsense," was my hasty response: "don't put me out of temper with +myself. I was indulging in a little bit of philosophy while you were +deep in the 'Daisy Chain.' I was thinking what constituted a great +mind." + +Jessie opened her eyes widely, but she did not at once reply; she was +not, strictly speaking, a clever girl, and did not at once grasp any +new idea; our conversations were generally rather one-sided. Emma +Hardy, who was our school wag, once observed that I used Jessie's +brains as an airing-place for my ideas. Certainly Jessie listened more +than she talked, but then, she listened so sweetly. + +"Of course, Alfred the Great, and Sir Philip Sidney, and Princess +Elizabeth of France, and all the heroes and heroines of old time--all +the people who did such great things and lived such wonderful +lives--may be said to have had great minds; but I am not thinking about +them. I want to know what makes a great mind, and how one is to get it. +There is Carrie, now, you know how good she is; I think she may be said +to have one." + +"Carrie--your sister?" + +"Why, yes," I returned, a little impatiently; for certainly Jessie +could not think I meant that stupid, peevish little Carrie Steadman, +the dullest girl in the school; and whom else should I mean, but +Carrie, my own dear sister, who was two years older than I, and who was +as good as she was pretty, and who set us all such an example of +unworldliness and self-denial; and Jessie had spent the Christmas +holidays at our house, and had grown to know and love her too; and yet +she could doubt of whom I was speaking; it could not be denied that +Jessie was a little slow. + +"Carrie is so good," I went on, when I had cooled a little, "I am sure +she has a great mind. When I read of Mrs. Judson and Elizabeth Fry, or +of any of those grand creatures, I always think of Carrie. How few +girls of nineteen would deprive themselves of half their dress +allowance, that they might devote it to the poor; she has given up +parties because she thinks them frivolous and a waste of time; and +though she plays so beautifully, mother can hardly get her to practice, +because she says it is a pity to devote so much time to a mere +accomplishment, when she might be at school, or reading to poor old +Betty Martin." + +"She might do both," put in Jessie, rather timidly; for she never liked +contradicting any of my notions, however far-fetched and ill-assorted +they might be. "Do you know, Esther, I fancy your mother is a little +sorry that Carrie is so unlike other girls; she told me once that she +thought it such a pity that she had let her talents rust after all the +money that had been spent on her education." + +"You must have misunderstood my mother," I returned, somewhat loftily; +"I heard her once say to Uncle Geoffrey that she thought Carrie was +almost perfection. You have no idea how much Mr. Arnold thinks of her; +he is always holding her up as his pattern young lady in the parish, +and declares that he should not know what to do without her. She plays +the organ at all the week-day services, and teaches at the Sunday +school, and she has a district now, and a Bible-class for the younger +girls. No wonder she cannot find time to practice, or to keep up her +drawing." And I looked triumphantly at Jessie; but her manner did not +quite please me. She might not be clever, but she had a good solid set +of opinions to which she could hold stoutly enough. + +"Don't think me disagreeable, Esther," she pleaded. "I think a great +deal of Carrie; she is very sweet, and pretty, and good, and we should +all be better if we were more like her; but no one is quite faultless, +and I think even Carrie makes mistakes at times." + +"Oh, of course!" I answered a little crossly, for I could not bear her +finding fault with Carrie, who was such a paragon in my eyes. But +Jessie took no notice of my manner, she was such a wise little +creature; and I cannot help thinking that the less importance we attach +to people's manner the better. Under a little roughness there is often +good stuff, and some good people are singularly unfortunate in manner. + +So Jessie went on in her gentle way, "Do you remember Miss Majoribanks' +favorite copy: 'Moderation in all things'? I think this ought to apply +to everything we do. We had an old nurse once, who used to say such +droll things to us children. I remember I had been very good, and done +something very wonderful, as I thought, and nursie said to me in her +dry way, 'Well, Miss Jessie, my dear, duty is not a hedgehog, that you +should be bristling all over in that way. There is no getting at you +to-day, you are too fully armed at all points for praise.' And she +would not say another word; and another time, when I thought I ought to +have been commended; she said, 'Least done is soonest mended; and well +done is not ill done, and that is all about it.' Poor old nurse! she +would never praise any one." + +"But, Jessie--how does this apply to Carrie?" + +"Well, not very much, I dare say; only I think Carrie overdoes her duty +sometimes. I remember one evening your mother look so disappointed when +Carrie said she was too tired to sing." + +"You mean the evening when the Scobells were there, and Carrie had been +doing parish work all the day, and she came in looking so pale and +fagged? I thought mother was hard on her that night. Carrie cried about +it afterward in my room." + +"Oh, Esther, I thought she spoke so gently! She only said, 'Would it +not have been better to have done a little less to-day, and reserved +yourself for our friends? We ought never to disappoint people if we can +help it.'" + +"Yes; only mother looked as if she were really displeased; and Carrie +could not bear that; she said in her last letter that mother did not +sympathize entirely in her work, and that she missed me dreadfully, for +the whole atmosphere was rather chilling sometimes." + +Jessie looked a little sorry at this. "No one could think that of your +home, Esther." And she sighed, for her home was very different from +ours. Her parents were dead, and as she was an only child, she had +never known the love of brother or sister; and the aunt who brought her +up was a strict narrow-minded sort of person, with manners that must +have been singularly uncongenial to my affectionate, simple-minded +Jessie. Poor Jessie! I could not help giving her one of my bear-like +hugs at this, so well did I know the meaning of that sigh; and there is +no telling into what channel our talk would have drifted, only just at +that moment Belle Martin, the pupil-teacher, appeared in sight, walking +very straight and fast, and carrying her chin in an elevated fashion, a +sort of practical exposition of Madame's "Heads up, young ladies!" But +this was only her way, and Belle was a good creature. + +"You are to go in at once, Miss Cameron," she called out, almost before +she reached us. "Miss Majoribanks has sent me to look for you; your +uncle is with her in the drawing-room." + +"Uncle Geoffrey? Oh, my dear Uncle Geoff!" I exclaimed, joyfully. "Do +you really mean it, Belle?" + +"Yes, Dr. Cameron is in the drawing-room," repeated Belle. But I never +noticed how grave her voice was. She commenced whispering to Jessie +almost before I was a yard away, and I thought I heard an exclamation +in Jessie's voice; but I only said to myself, "Oh, my dear Uncle +Geoff!" in a tone of suppressed ecstasy, and I looked round on the +croquet players as I threaded the lawn with a sense of pity that not +one of them possessed an uncle like mine. + +Miss Majoribanks was seated in state, in her well-preserved black satin +gown, with her black gloves reposing in her lap, looking rather like a +feminine mute; but on this occasion I took no notice of her. I actually +forgot my courtesy, and I am afraid I made one of my awkward rushes, +for Miss Majoribanks groaned slightly, though afterward she turned it +into a cough. + +"Why, Esther, you are almost a woman now," said my uncle, putting me in +front of him, and laying his heavy hand on my shoulder. "Bless me, how +the child has grown, and how unlike she is to Carrie!" + +"I was seventeen yesterday," I answered, pouting a little, for I +understood the reference to Carrie; and was I not the ugly +duckling?--but I would not keep up the sore feeling a minute, I was so +pleased to see him. + +No one would call Uncle Geoffrey handsome--oh, dear, no! his features +were too rugged for that; but he had a droll, clever face, and a pair +of honest eyes, and his gray hair was so closely cropped that it looked +like a silver cap. He was a little restless and fidgety in his +movements, too, and had ways that appeared singular to strangers, but I +always regarded his habits respectfully. Clever men, I thought, were +often eccentric; and I was quite angry with my mother when she used to +say, "Geoff was an old bachelor, and he wanted a wife to polish him; I +should like to see any woman dare to marry Uncle Geoff." + +"Seventeen, sweet seventeen! Eh, Esther?" but he still held my hand and +looked at me thoughtfully. It was then I first noticed how grave he +looked. + +"Have you come from Combe Manor, Uncle Geoff, and are they all quite +well at home?" I asked, rather anxiously, for he seemed decidedly +nervous. + +"Well, no," he returned, rather slowly; "I am sorry to spoil your +holiday, child, but I have come by your mother's express desire to +fetch you home. Frank--your father, I mean--is not well, and they will +be glad of your help and--bless me"--Uncle Geoff's favorite +exclamation--"how pale the girl looks!" + +"You are keeping something from me--he is very ill--I know he is very +ill!" I exclaimed, passionately. "Oh, uncle, do speak out! he is--" but +I could not finish my sentence, only Uncle Geoffrey understood. + +"No, no, it is not so bad as that," putting his arm round me, for I was +trembling and shaking all over; "he is very ill--I dare not deny that +there is much ground for fear; but Esther, we ought to lose no time in +getting away from here. Will you swallow this glass of wine, like a +good, brave child, and then pack up your things as soon as possible?" + +There was no resisting Uncle Geoffrey's coaxing voice; all his patients +did what he told them, so I drank the wine, and tried to hurry from the +room, only my knees felt so weak. + +"Miss Martin will assist you," whispered Miss Majoribanks, as I passed +her; and, sure enough, as I entered the dormitory, there was Belle +emptying my drawers, with Jessie helping her. Even in my bewildered +state of wretchedness I wondered why Miss Majoribanks thought it +necessary for me to take all my things. Was I bidding good-by to +Redmayne House? + +Belle looked very kindly at me as she folded my dresses, but Jessie +came up to me with tears in her eyes. "Oh, Esther!" she whispered, "how +strange to think we were talking as we were, and now the opportunity +has come?" and though her speech was a little vague, I understood it; +she meant the time for me to display my greatness of mind--ah, me! my +greatness of mind--where was it? I was of no use at all; the girls did +it all between them, while I sat on the edge of my little bed and +watched them. They were as quick as possible, and yet it seemed hours +before the box was locked, and Belle had handed me the key; by-and-by, +Miss Majoribanks came and fetched me down, for she said the fly was at +the door, and Dr. Cameron was waiting. + +We girls had never cared much for Miss Majoribanks, but nothing could +exceed her kindness then. I think the reason why schoolmistresses are +not often beloved by their pupils--though there certainly are +exceptions to that rule--is that they do not often show their good +hearts. + +When Miss Majoribanks buttoned my gloves for me, and smoothed my hair, +and gave me that motherly kiss, I felt I loved her. "God bless you my +dear child! we shall all miss you; you have worked well and been a +credit to the establishment. I am sorry indeed to part with you." +Actually these were Miss Majoribanks' words, and spoken, too, in a +husky voice! + +And when I got downstairs, there were all the girls, many of them with +their croquet mallets in their hands, gathered in the front garden, and +little Susie Pierrepoint, the baby of the school, carrying a large +bunch of lavender and sweet-william from her own little garden, which +she thrust into my hands. + +"They are for you," cried Susie; and then they all crowded round and +kissed me. + +"Good-by, Esther; we are so sorry to lose you; write to us and let us +know how you are." + +Jessie's pale little face came last. "Oh, my darling! how I shall be +thinking of you!" cried the affectionate creature; and then I broke +down, and Uncle Geoffrey led me away. + +"I am glad to see your school-fellows love you," he said, as we drove +off, and Redmayne House became lost to sight. "Human affection is a +great boon, Esther." + +Dear Uncle Geoffrey! he wanted to comfort me; but for some time I would +not speak or listen. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE ARRIVAL AT COMBE MANOR. + + +The great secret of Uncle Geoffrey's influence with people was a +certain quiet undemonstrative sympathy. He did not talk much; he was +rather given to letting people alone, but his kindliness of look made +his few spoken words more precious than the voluble condolences of +others. + +He made no effort to check the torrent of tears that followed my first +stunned feelings; indeed, his "Poor child!" so tenderly uttered, only +made them flow more quickly. It was not until we were seated in the +railway compartment, and I had dried them of my own accord, that he +attempted to rouse me by entering into conversation, and yet there was +much that he knew must be said, only "great haste, small speed," was +always Uncle Geoffrey's favorite motto. "There is time for all things, +and much more," as he used to tell us. + +"Are you better now?" he asked, kindly. "That is right; put your +handkerchief away, and we can have a little talk together. You are a +sensible girl, Esther, and have a wise little head on your shoulders. +Tell me, my child, had you any idea of any special anxiety or trouble +that was preying on your father's mind?" + +"No, indeed," I returned, astonished. "I knew the farm was doing badly, +and father used to complain now and then of Fred's extravagance, and +mother looked once or twice very worried, but we did not think much +about it." + +"Then I am afraid what I am going to tell you will be a great shock," +he returned, gravely. "Your father and mother must have had heavy +anxieties lately, though they have kept it from you children. The cause +of your father's illness is mental trouble. I must not hide from you, +Esther, that he is ruined." + +"Ruined!" I tried to repeat the word aloud, but it died on my lips. + +"A man with a family ought not to speculate," went on my uncle, +speaking more to himself than me. "What did Frank know about the +business? About as much as Fred does about art. He has spent thousands +on the farm, and it has been a dead loss from the beginning. He knew as +much about farming as Carrie does. Stuff and nonsense! And then he must +needs dabble in shares for Spanish mines; and that new-fangled Wheal +Catherine affair that has gone to smash lately. Every penny gone; and a +wife, and--how many of you are there, Esther?" + +But I was too much overwhelmed to help him in his calculation, so he +commenced striking off on his fingers, one by one. + +"Let me see; there's Fred, brought up, young coxcomb! to think himself +a fine gentleman and an artist, with almost as much notion of work as I +have of piano playing; and Allan, who has more brains than the rest of +you put together; and Carrie, who is half a saint and slightly +hysterical; and your poor little self; and then comes that nondescript +article Jack. Why in the world do you call a feminine creature Jack? +And poor little Dot, who will never earn a penny for himself--humph, +six of you to clothe and feed--" + +"Oh, Uncle Geoff!" I burst out, taking no notice of this long tirade; +and what did it matter if Dot never earned anything when I would work +my fingers to the bone for him, the darling! "oh, Uncle Geoff, are +things really so bad as that? Will Fred be obliged to give up his +painting, when he has been to Rome, too; and shall we have to leave +Combe Manor, and the farm? Oh, what will they all do? and Carrie, too?" + +"Work," was the somewhat grim reply, and then he went on in a milder +tone. "Things are very bad, Esther; about as bad as they can be--for we +must look matters in the face--and your father is very ill, and there +is no knowing where the mischief may end; but you must all put your +shoulders to the domestic wheel, and push it up the Hill Difficulty. It +is a crisis, and a very painful one, but it will prove which of you has +the right mettle. + +"I am not afraid of Allan," he went on; "the lad has plenty of good +stuff in him; and I am not much afraid of you, Esther, at least I think +not; but--" He hesitated, and then stopped, and I knew he was thinking +of Fred and Carrie; but he need not. Of course Carrie would work as +heartily as any of us; idling was never her forte; and Fred--well, +perhaps Fred was not always industrious. + +I seemed to have lost myself in a perfect tangle of doubt and dread. +Uncle Geoffrey went on with his talk, half sad and half moralizing, but +I could not follow all he said. Two thoughts were buzzing about me like +hornets. Father was ill, very ill, and we should have to leave Combe +Manor. The sting of these thoughts was dreadful. + +I seemed to rouse out of a nightmare when Uncle Geoffrey suddenly +announced that we were at Crowbridge. No one was waiting for us at the +station, which somewhat surprised me; but Combe Manor was not a quarter +of a mile off, so the luggage was wheeled away on a truck, and Uncle +Geoffrey and I walked after it, up the sandy lane, and round by the +hazel copse. And there were the fields, where Dapple, the gray mare, +was feeding; and there were Cherry and Spot, and Brindle, and all the +rest of the dear creatures, rubbing their horned heads against the +hedge as usual; and two or three of them standing knee-deep in the +great shallow pool, where Fred and Allan used to sail their boats, and +make believe it was the Atlantic. We always called the little bit of +sedgy ground under the willow America, and used to send freights of +paper and cardboard across the mimic ocean, which did not always arrive +safely. + +How lovely and peaceful it all looked on this June evening! The sun +shone on the red brick house and old-fashioned casements; roses were +climbing everywhere, on the walls, round the porch, over the very +gateway. Fred was leaning against the gate, in his brown velveteen coat +and slouched hat, looking so handsome and picturesque, poor fellow! He +had a Gloire de Dijon in his button-hole. I remember I wondered vaguely +how he had had the heart to pick it. + +"How is he?" called out Uncle Geoffrey. And Fred started, for though he +was watching for us he had not seen us turn the corner of the lane. + +"No better," was the disconsolate answer, as he unlatched the gate, and +stooped over it to kiss me. "We are expecting Allan down by the next +train, and Carrie asked me to look out for you; how do you do, Esther? +What have you done to yourself?" eyeing me with a mixture of chagrin +and astonishment. I suppose crying had not improved my appearance; +still, Fred need not have noticed my red eyes; but he was one who +always "looked on the outward appearance." + +"She is tired and unhappy, poor little thing," repeated Uncle Geoffrey, +answering for me, as he drew my arm through his. "I hope Carrie has got +some tea for her;" and as he spoke Carrie came out in the porch to meet +us. How sweet she looked, the "little nun," as Fred always called her, +in her gray dress; with her smooth fair hair and pale pretty face. + +"Poor Esther, how tired you look!" she said, kissing me affectionately, +but quietly--Carrie was always a little undemonstrative--"but I have +got tea for you in the brown room" (we always called it the brown room, +because it was wainscoted in oak); "will you have it now, or would you +like to see mother?" + +"You had better have tea first and see your mother afterward," observed +Uncle Geoffrey; but I would not take this prudent counsel. On the +stairs I came upon Jack, curled up on a window-sill, with Smudge, our +old black cat, in her arms, and was welcomed by both of them with much +effusion. Jack was a tall, thin girl, all legs and arms, with a droll, +freckled face and round blue eyes, with all the awkwardness of +fourteen, and none of its precocity. Her real name was Jacqueline, but +we had always called her Jack, for brevity, and because, with her +cropped head and rough ways, she resembled a boy more than a girl; her +hair was growing now, and hung about her neck in short ungainly +lengths, but I doubt whether in its present stage it was any +improvement. I am not at all sure strangers considered Jack a +prepossessing child, she was so awkward and overgrown, but I liked her +droll face immensely. Fred was always finding fault with her and +snubbing her, which brought him nothing but pert replies; then he would +entreat mother to send her to school, but somehow she never went. Dot +could not spare her, and mother thought there was plenty of time, so +Jack still roamed about at her own sweet will; riding Dapple barebacked +round the paddock, milking Cherry, and feeding the chickens; carrying +on some pretense at lessons with Carrie, who was not a very strict +mistress, and plaguing Fred, who had nice ways and hated any form of +untidiness. + +"Oh, you dear thing!" cried Jack, leaping from the window-seat and +nearly strangling me, while Smudge rubbed himself lovingly against my +dress; "oh, you dear, darling, delightful old Esther, how pleased I am +to see you!" (Certainly Jack was not undemonstrative.) "Oh, it has been +so horrid the last few days--father ill, and mother always with him, +and Fred as cross as two sticks, and Carrie always too busy or too +tired for any one to speak to her; and Dot complaining of pain in his +back and not caring to play, oh!" finished Jack, with a long-drawn +sigh, "it has been almost too horrid." + +"Hush, Jack," was my sole reply; for there was dear mother coming down +the passage toward us. I had only been away from her two months, and +yet it struck me that her hair was grayer and her face was thinner than +it used to be, and there were lines on her forehead that I never +remember to have seen before; but she greeted me in her old +affectionate way, putting back my hair from my face to look at me, and +calling me her dear child. "But I must not stop a moment, Esther," she +said hurriedly, "or father will miss me; take off your hat, and rest +and refresh yourself, and then you shall come up and see him." + +"But, mother, where is Dot?" + +"In there," motioning toward the sick room; "he is always there, we +cannot keep him out," and her lip trembled. When Jack and I returned to +the brown room, we found the others gathered round the table. Carrie, +who was pouring out the tea, pointed to the seat beside her. + +It was the first dreary meal I had ever remembered in the brown room; +my first evening at home had always been so happy. The shallow blue +teacups and tiny plates always seemed prettier than other people's +china, and nothing ever tasted so delicious as our home-made brown +bread and butter. + +But this evening the flavor seemed spoiled. Carrie sat in mother's +place looking sad and abstracted, and fingering her little silver cross +nervously. Fred was downcast and out of spirits, returning only brief +replies to Uncle Geoffrey's questions, and only waking up to snub Jack +if she spoke a word. Oh, how I wished Allan would make his appearance +and put us all right! It was quite a relief when I heard mother's voice +calling me, and she took me into the great cool room where father lay. + +Dot was curled up in mother's great arm-chair, with his favorite book +of natural history; he slipped a hot little hand in mine as I passed +him. + +Dot was our name for him because he was so little, but he had been +called Frank, after our father; he was eight years old, but he hardly +looked bigger than a child of six. His poor back was crooked, and he +was lame from hip-disease; sometimes for weeks together the cruel +abscesses wasted his strength, at other times he was tolerably free +from pain; even at his worst times Dot was a cheery invalid, for he was +a bright, patient little fellow. He had a beautiful little face, too, +though perhaps the eyes were a trifle too large for the thin features; +but Dot was my pet, and I could see no fault in him; nothing angered me +more than when people pitied him or lamented over his infirmity. When I +first came home the sound of his crutch on the floor was the sweetest +music in my ear. But I had no eyes even for Dot after my first look at +father. Oh, how changed, how terribly changed he was! The great wave of +brown hair over his forehead was gray, his features were pinched and +haggard, and when he spoke to me his voice was different, and he seemed +hardly able to articulate. + +"Poor children--poor children!" he groaned; and as I kissed his cheek +he said, "Be a good girl, Esther, and try to be a comfort to your +mother." + +"When I am a man I shall try and be a comfort too," cried Dot, in his +sharp chirpy voice; it quite startled father. + +"That's my brave boy," said father, faintly, and I think there were +tears in his eyes. "Dora"--my mother's name was Dora--"I am too tired +to talk; let the children go now, and come and sit by me while I go to +sleep;" and mother gently dismissed us. + +I had rather a difficulty with Dot when I got outside, for he suddenly +lowered his crutch and sat down on the floor. + +"I don't want to go to bed," he announced, decidedly. "I shall sit here +all night, in case mother wants me; when it gets dark she may feel +lonely." + +"But, Dot, mother will be grieved if she comes out and finds you here; +she has anxiety enough as it is; and if you make yourself ill, too, you +will only add to her trouble. Come, be a good boy, and let me help you +to undress." But I might as well have talked to Smudge. Dot had these +obstinate fits at times; he was tired, and his nerves were shaken by +being so many hours in the sick room, and nothing would have induced +him to move. I was so tired at last that I sat down on the floor, too, +and rested my head against the door, and Dot sat bolt upright like a +watchful little dog, and in this ridiculous position we were discovered +by Allan. I had not heard of his arrival; and when he came toward us, +springing lightly up two stairs at a time, I could not help uttering a +suppressed exclamation of delight. + +He stopped at once and looked at us in astonishment. "Dot and Esther! +in the name of all that is mysterious; huddled up like two Chinese gods +on the matting. Why, I took Esther for a heap of clothes in the +twilight." Of course I told him how it happened. Dot was naughty and +would not move, and I was keeping him company. Allan hardly heard me +out before he had shouldered Dot, crutch and all, and was walking off +with him down the passage. "Wait for me a few minutes, Esther," he +whispered; and I betook myself to the window-seat and looked over the +dusky garden, where the tall white lilies looked like ghostly flowers +in the gloom. + +It was a long time before Allan rejoined me. "That is a curious little +body," he said, half laughing, as he sat down beside me. "I had quite a +piece of work with him for carrying him off in that fashion; he said 'I +was a savage, a great uncivilized man, to take such a mean advantage of +him; If I were big I would fight you,' he said, doubling his fists; he +looked such a miserable little atom of a chap as he said it." + +"Was he really angry?" I asked, for Dot was so seldom out of temper. + +"Angry, I believe you. He was in a towering rage; but he is all right +now, so you need not go to him. I stroked him down, and praised him for +his good intentions, and then I told him I was a doctor now, and no one +contradicted my orders, and that he must be a good boy and let me help +him to bed. Poor little fellow; he sobbed all the time he was +undressing, he is so fond of father. I am afraid it will go badly with +him if things turn out as I fear they will," and Allan's voice was very +grave. + +We had a long talk after that, until Uncle Geoffrey came upstairs and +dislodged us, by carrying Allan off. It was such a comfort to have him +all to myself; we had been so much separated of late years. + +Allan was five years older than I; he was only a year younger than +Fred, but the difference between them was very great. Allan looked the +elder of the two; he was not so tall as Fred, but he was strongly built +and sturdy; he was dark-complexioned, and his features were almost as +irregular as mine; but in a man that did not so much matter, and very +few people called Allan plain. + +Allan had always been my special brother--most sisters know what I mean +by that term. Allan was undemonstrative; he seldom petted or made much +of me, but a word from him was worth a hundred from Fred; and there was +a quiet unspoken sympathy between us that was sufficiently palpable. If +Allan wanted his gloves mended he always came to me, and not to Carrie. +I was his chief correspondent, and he made me the confidante of his +professional hopes and fears. In return, he good-humoredly interested +himself in my studies, directed my reading, and considered himself at +liberty to find fault with everything that did not please him. He was a +little peremptory sometimes, but I did not mind that half so much as +Fred's sarcasms; and he never distressed me as Fred did, by laughing at +my large hands, or wondering why I was not so natty in my dress as +Carrie. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +DOT. + + +I went to my room to unpack my things, and by-and-by Carrie joined me. + +I half hoped that she meant to help me, but she sat down by the window +and said, with a sigh, how tired she was; and certainly her eyes had a +weary look. + +She watched me for some time in silence, but once or twice she sighed +very heavily. + +"I wish you could leave those things, Esther," she said, at last, not +pettishly--Carrie was never pettish--but a little too plaintively. "I +have not had a creature to whom I could talk since you left home in +April." + +The implied compliment was very nice, but I did not half like leaving +my things--I was rather old-maidish in my ways, and never liked half +measures; but I remembered reading once about "the lust of finishing," +and what a test of unselfishness it was to put by a half-completed task +cheerfully at the call of another duty. Perhaps it was my duty to leave +my unpacking and listen to Carrie, but there was one little point in +her speech that did not please me. + +"You could talk to mother," I objected; for mother always listened to +one so nicely. + +"I tried it once, but mother did not understand," sighed Carrie. I used +to wish she did not sigh so much. "We had quite an argument, but I saw +it was no use--that I should never bring her to my way of thinking. She +was brought up so differently; girls were allowed so little liberty +then. My notions seemed to distress her. She said that I was peculiar, +and that I carried things too far, and that she wished I were more like +other girls; and then she kissed me, and said I was very good, and she +did not mean to hurt me; but she thought home had the first claim; and +so on. You know mother's way." + +"I think mother was right there--you think so yourself, do you not +Carrie?" I asked anxiously, for this seemed to me the A B C of common +sense. + +"Oh, of course," rather hastily. "Charity begins at home, but it ought +not to stop there. If I chose to waste my time practicing for Fred's +violin, and attending to all his thousand and one fads and fancies, +what would become of all my parish work? You should have heard Mr. +Arnold's sermon last Sunday, Esther; he spoke of the misery and poverty +and ignorance that lay around us outside our homes, and of the +loiterers and idlers within those homes." And Carrie's eyes looked sad +and serious. + +"That is true," I returned, and then I stopped, and Jessie's words came +to my mind, "Even Carrie makes mistakes at times." For the first time +in my life the thought crossed me; in my absence would it not have been +better for Carrie to have been a little more at home? It was Jessie's +words and mother's careworn face that put the thought into my head; but +the next moment I had dismissed it as heresy. My good, unselfish +Carrie, it was impossible that she could make mistakes! Carrie's next +speech chimed in well with my unspoken thoughts. + +"Home duties come first, of course, Esther--no one in their senses +could deny such a thing; but we must be on our guard against +make-believe duties. It is my duty to help mother by teaching Jack, and +I give her two hours every morning; but when Fred comes into the +schoolroom with some nonsensical request that would rob me of an hour +or so, I am quite right not to give way to him. Do you think," warming +into enthusiasm over her subject, "that Fred's violin playing ought to +stand in the way of any real work that will benefit souls as well as +bodies--that will help to reclaim ignorance and teach virtue?" And +Carrie's beautiful eyes grew dark and dewy with feeling. I wish mother +could have seen her; something in her expression reminded me of a +picture of Faith I had once seen. + +"Oh, Esther," she continued, for I was too moved to answer her, "every +day I live I long to give myself more entirely to benefiting my fellow +creatures. Girl as I am, I mean to join the grand army of workers--that +is what Mr. Arnold called them. Oh, how I wish I could remember all he +said! He told us not to be disheartened by petty difficulties, or to +feel lonely because, perhaps, those who were our nearest and dearest +discouraged our efforts or put obstacles in our way. 'You think you are +alone,' he said, 'when you are one of the rank and file in that +glorious battalion. There are thousands working with you and around +you, although you cannot see them.' And then he exhorted us who were +young to enter this crusade." + +"But, Carrie," I interrupted, somewhat mournfully, for I was tired and +a little depressed, "I am afraid our work is already cut out for us, +and we shall have to do it however little pleased we may be with the +pattern. From what Uncle Geoffrey tells me, we shall be very poor." + +"I am not afraid of poverty, Esther." + +"But still you will be grieved to leave Combe Manor," I persisted. +"Perhaps we shall have to live in a little pokey house somewhere, and +to go out as governesses." + +"Perhaps so," she answered, serenely; "but I shall still find time for +higher duties. I shall be a miser, and treasure all my minutes. But I +have wasted nearly half-an-hour now; but it is such a luxury to talk to +somebody who can understand." And then she kissed me affectionately and +bade me hasten to bed, for it was getting late, and I looked sadly +tired; but it never entered into her head to help me put away the +clothes that strewed my room, though I was aching in every limb from +grief and fatigue. If one looks up too much at the clouds one stumbles +against rough stones sometimes. Star gazing is very sweet and +elevating, but it is as well sometimes to pick up the homely flowers +that grow round our feet. "What does Carrie mean by higher duties?" I +grumbled, as I sought wearily to evoke order out of chaos. "To work for +one's family is as much a duty as visiting the poor." I could not solve +the problem; Carrie was too vague for me there; but I went to bed at +last, and dreamed that we two were building houses on the seashore. +Carrie's was the prettier, for it was all of sea-weed and +bright-colored shells that looked as though the sun were shining on +them, while mine was made of clay, tempered by mortar. + +"Oh, Carrie, I like yours best" I cried, disconsolately; yet as I spoke +a long tidal wave came up and washed the frail building away. But +though mine filled with foamy water, the rough walls remained entire, +and then I looked at it again the receding wave had strewn its floors +with small shining pearls. + +I must pass over the record of the next few days, for they were so +sad--so sad, even now, I cannot think of them without tears. On the +second day after my return, dear father had another attack, and before +many hours were over we knew we were orphans. + +Two things stood out most prominently during that terrible week; dear +mother's exceeding patience and Dot's despair. Mother gave us little +trouble. She lay on her couch weeping silently, but no word of +complaint or rebellion crossed her lips; she liked us to sit beside her +and read her soothing passages of Scripture, and she was very +thoughtful and full of pity for us all. Her health was never very good, +and just now her strength had given way utterly. Uncle Geoffrey would +not hear of her exerting herself, and, indeed, she looked so frail and +broken that even Fred got alarmed about her. + +Carrie was her principal companion, for Dot took all my attention; and, +indeed, it nearly broke our hearts to see him. + +Uncle Geoffrey had carried him from the room when father's last attack +had come on. Jack was left in charge of him, and the rest of us were +gathered in the sick room. I was the first to leave when all was over, +for I thought of Dot and trembled; but as I opened the door there he +was, crouched down in a little heap at the entrance, with Jack sobbing +beside him. + +"I took away his crutch, but he crawled all the way on his hands and +knees," whispered Jack; and then Allan came out and stood beside me. + +"Poor little fellow!" he muttered; and Dot lifted his miserable little +white face, and held out his arms. + +"Take me in," he implored. "Father's dead, for I heard you all crying; +but I must kiss him once more." + +"I don't think it will hurt him," observed Allan, in a low voice. "He +will only imagine all sorts of horrors--and he looks so peaceful," +motioning toward the closed door. + +"I will be so good," implored the poor child, "if you only take me in." +And Allan, unable to resist any longer, lifted him in his arms. + +I did not go in, for I could not have borne it. Carrie told me +afterward that Allan cried like a child when Dot nestled up to the dead +face and began kissing and stroking it. + +"You are my own father, though you look so different," he whispered. "I +wish you were not so cold. I wish you could look and speak to me--I am +your little boy Dot--you were always so fond of Dot, father. Let me go +with you; I don't want to live any longer without you," and so on, +until Uncle Geoffrey made Allan take him away. + +Oh, how good Allan was to him! He lay down by his side all night, +soothing him and talking to him, for Dot never slept. The next day we +took turns to be with him, and so on day after day; but I think Dot +liked Allan best. + +"He is most like father," he said once, which, perhaps, explained the +preference; but then Allan had so much tact and gentleness. Fred did +not understand him at all; he called him odd and uncanny, which +displeased us both. + +One evening I had been reading to mother, and afterward I went up to +Dot. He had been very feverish and had suffered much all day, and Allan +had scarcely left him; but toward evening he had grown quieter. I found +Jack beside him; they were making up garlands for the grave; it was +Dot's only occupation just now. + +"Look here, Essie," he cried, eagerly. "Is not this a splendid wreath? +We are making it all of pansies--they were father's favorite flowers. +He always called them floral butterflies. Fancy a wreath of +butterflies!" and Dot gave a weak little laugh. It was a very ghost of +a laugh, but it was his first, and I hailed it joyfully. I praised the +quaint stiff wreath. In its way it was picturesque. The rich hues of +the pansies blended well--violet and gold; it was a pretty idea, laying +heartsease on the breast that would never know anxiety again. + +"When I get better," continued Dot, "I am going to make such a +beautiful little garden by dear father. Jack and I have been planning +it. We are going to have rose-trees and lilies of the valley and sweet +peas--father was so fond of sweet peas; and in the spring snowdrops and +crocuses and violets. Allan says I may do it." + +"Yes, surely, Dot." + +"I wonder what father is doing now?" he exclaimed, suddenly, putting by +the unfinished wreath a little wearily. "I think the worst of people +dying is that we cannot find out what they are doing," and his eyes +grew large and wistful. Alas! Dot, herein lies the sting of +death--silence so insupportable and unbroken! + +"Shall I read you your favorite chapter?" I asked, softly; for every +day Dot made us read to him the description of that City with its +golden streets and gem-built walls; but he shook his head, + +"It glitters too much for my head to-night," he said, quaintly; "it is +too bright and shining. I would rather think of dear father walking in +those green pastures, with all the good people who have died. It must +be very beautiful there, Esther. But I think father would be happier if +I were with him." + +"Oh, Dot, no!" for the bare idea pained me; and I felt I must argue +this notion away. "Allan and I could not spare you, or mother either; +and there's Jack--what would poor Jack do without her playfellow?" + +"I don't feel I shall ever play again," said Dot, leaning his chin on +his mites of hands and peering at us in his shrewd way. "Jack is a +girl, and she cannot understand; but when one is only a Dot, and has an +ugly crutch and a back that never leaves off aching, and a father that +has gone to heaven, one does not care to be left behind." + +"But you are not thinking of us, Dot, and how unhappy it would make us +to lose you too," I returned. And now the tears would come one by one; +Dot saw them, and wiped them off with his sleeve. + +"Don't be silly, Esther," he said, in a coaxing little voice. "I am not +going yet. Allan says I may live to be a man. He said so last night; +and then he told me he was afraid we should be very poor; and that made +me sorry, for I knew I should never be able to work, with my poor back." + +"But Allan and I will work for you, my darling," I exclaimed, throwing +my arms round him; "only you must not leave us, Dot, even for father;" +and as I said this I began to sob bitterly. I was terribly ashamed of +myself when Allan came in and discovered me in the act; and there was +Jack keeping me company, and frowning away her tears dreadfully. + +I thought Allan would have scolded us all round; but no, he did nothing +of the kind. He patted Jack's wet cheeks and laughed at the hole in her +handkerchief; and he then seated himself on the bed, and asked me very +gently what was the matter with us all. Dot was spokesman: he stated +the facts of the case rather lugubriously and in a slightly injured +voice. + +"Esther is crying because she is selfish, and I am afraid I am selfish +too." + +"Most likely," returned Allan, dryly; "it is a human failing. What is +the case in point, Frankie?" + +Allan was the only one of us who ever called Dot by his proper name. + +"I should not mind growing up to be a man," replied Dot, fencing a +little, "if I were big and strong like you," taking hold of the huge +sinewy hand. "I could work then for mother and the girls; but now you +will be always obliged to take care of me, and so--and so--" and here +Dot's lips quivered a little, "I would rather go with dear father, if +Esther would not cry about it so." + +"No, no, you must stay with us, Sonny," returned Allan, cheerily. +"Esther and I are not going to give you up so easily. Why, look here, +Frankie; I will tell you a secret. One of these days I mean to have a +nice little house of my own, and Esther and you shall come and live +with me, and I will go among my patients all the morning, and in the +evening I shall come home very lazy and tired, and Esther shall fetch +me my slippers and light the lamp, and I shall get my books, and you +will have your drawing, and Esther will mend our clothes, and we shall +be as cozy as possible." + +"Yes, yes," exclaimed Dot, clapping his hands. The snug picture had +fascinated his childish fancy; Allan's fireside had obscured the lights +of paradise. From this time this imaginary home of Allan's became his +favorite castle in the air. When we were together he would often talk +of it as though it were reality. We had planted the garden and +furnished the parlor a dozen times over before the year was out; and so +strong is a settled imagination that I am almost sure Dot believed that +somewhere there existed the little white cottage with the porch covered +with honeysuckle, and the low bay-window with the great pots of +flowering plants, beside which Dot's couch was to stand. + +I don't think Jack enjoyed these talks so much as Dot and I did, as we +made no room for her in our castle-building. + +"You must not live with us, Jack," Dot would say, very gravely; "you +are only a girl, and we don't want girls"--what was I, I wonder?--"but +you shall come and see us once a week, and Esther will give you brown +bread and honey out of our beehives; for we had arranged there must be +a row of beehives under a southern wall where peaches were to grow; and +as for white lilies, we were to have dozens of them. Dear, dear, how +harmless all these fancies were, and yet they kept us cheerful and +warded off many an hour of depression from pain when Dot's back was +bad. I remember one more thing that Allan said that night, when we were +all better and more cheerful, for it was rather a grave speech for a +young man; but then Allan had these fits of gravity. + +"Never mind thinking if you will grow up to be a man, Dot. Wishing +won't help us to die an hour sooner, and the longest life must have an +end some day. What we have to do is to take up our life, and do the +best we can with it while it lasts, and to be kind and patient, and +help one another. Most likely Esther and I will have to work hard +enough all our lives--we shall work, and you may have to suffer; but we +cannot do without you any more than you can do without us. There, +Frankie!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +UNCLE GEOFFREY. + + +The day after the funeral Uncle Geoffrey held a family council, at +which we were all present, except mother and Dot; he preferred talking +to her alone afterward. + +Oh, what changes! what incredible changes! We must leave Combe Manor at +once. With the exception of a few hundred pounds that had been mother's +portion, the only dowry that her good old father, a naval captain, had +been able to give her, we were literally penniless. The boys were not +able to help us much. Allan was only a house-surgeon in one of the +London hospitals; and Fred, who called himself an artist, had never +earned a penny. He was a fair copyist, and talked the ordinary art +jargon, and went about all day in his brown velveteen coat, and wore +his hair rather long; but we never saw much result from his Roman +studies; latterly he had somewhat neglected his painting, and had taken +to violin playing and musical composition. Uncle Geoffrey used to shake +his head and say he was "Jack of all trades and master of none," which +was not far from the mark. There was a great deal of talk between the +three, before anything was settled. + +Fred was terribly aggravating to Uncle Geoffrey, I could see; but then +he was so miserable, poor fellow; he would not look at things in their +proper light, and he had a way with him as though he thought Uncle +Geoffrey was putting upon him. The discussion grew very warm at last, +for Allan sided with Uncle Geoffrey, and then Fred said every one was +against him. It struck me Uncle Geoffrey pooh-poohed Fred's whim of +being an artist; he wanted him to go into an office; there was a vacant +berth he could secure by speaking to an old friend of his, who was in a +China tea-house, a most respectable money-making firm, and Fred would +have a salary at once, with good prospects of rising; but Fred +passionately scouted the notion. He would rather enlist; he would +drown, or hang himself sooner. There were no end of naughty things he +said; only Carrie cried and begged him not to be so wicked, and that +checked him. + +Uncle Geoffrey lost his patience at last, and very nearly told him he +was an idiot, to his face; but Fred looked so handsome and miserable, +that he relented; and at last it was arranged that Fred was to take a +hundred pounds of mother's money--she would have given him the whole if +she could, poor dear--and take cheap rooms in London, and try how he +could get on by teaching drawing and taking copying orders. + +"Remember, Fred," continued Uncle Geoffrey, rather sternly, "you are +taking a sixth part of your mother's entire income; all that she has +for herself and these girls; if you squander it rashly, you will be +robbing the widow and the fatherless. You have scouted my well-meant +advice, and Allan's"--he went on--"and are marking out your own path in +life very foolishly, as we think; remember, you have only yourself to +blame, if you make that life a failure. Artists are of the same stuff +as other men, and ought to be sober, steady, and persevering; without +patience and effort you cannot succeed." + +"When my picture is accepted by the hanging committee, you and Allan +will repent your sneers," answered Fred, bitterly. + +"We do not sneer, my boy," returned Uncle Geoffrey, more mildly--for he +remembered Fred's father had only been dead a week--"we are only +doubtful of the wisdom of your choice; but there, work hard at your +daubs, and keep out of debt and bad company, and you may yet triumph +over your cranky old uncle." And so the matter was amicably settled. + +Allan's arrangements were far more simple. He was to leave the hospital +in another year, and become Uncle Geoffrey's assistant, with a view to +partnership. It was not quite Allan's taste, a practice in a sleepy +country town; but, as he remarked rather curtly, "beggars must not be +choosers," and he would as soon work under Uncle Geoffrey as any other +man. I think Allan was rather ambitious in his secret views. He wanted +to remain longer at the hospital and get into a London practice; he +would have liked to have been higher up the tree than Uncle Geoffrey, +who was quite content with his quiet position at Milnthorpe. But the +most astonishing part of the domestic programme was, that we were all +going to live with Uncle Geoffrey. I could scarcely believe my ears +when I heard it, and Carrie was just as surprised. Could any of us +credit such unselfish generosity? He had not prepared us for it in the +least. + +"Now, girls, you must just pack up your things, you, and the mother, +and Dot; of course we must take Dot, and you must manage to shake +yourselves down in the old house at Milnthorpe"--that is how he put it; +"it is not so big as Combe Manor, and I daresay we shall be rather a +tight fit when Allan comes; but the more the merrier, eh, Jack?" + +"Oh, Uncle Geoff, do you mean it?" gasped Jack, growing scarlet; but +Carrie and I could not speak for surprise. + +"Mean it! Of course. What is the good of being a bachelor uncle, if one +is not to be tyrannized over by an army of nephews and nieces? Do you +think the plan will answer, Esther?" he said, rather more seriously. + +"If you and Deborah do not mind it, Uncle Geoffrey, I am sure it ought +to answer; but we shall crowd you, and put you and Deborah to sad +inconvenience, I am afraid;" for I was half afraid of Deborah, who had +lived with Uncle Geoffrey for five-and-twenty years, and was used to +her own ways, and not over fond of young people. + +"I shall not ask Deb's opinion," he answered, rather roguishly; "we +must smooth her down afterward, eh, girls? Seriously, Allan, I think it +is the best plan under the circumstances. I am not fond of being +alone," and here Uncle Geoffrey gave a quick sigh. Poor Uncle Geoff! he +had never meant to be an old bachelor, only She died while he was +furnishing the old house at Milnthorpe, and he never could fix his mind +on any one else. + +"I like young folks about me," he continued, cheerfully. "When I get +old and rheumatic, I can keep Dot company, and Jack can wait on us +both. Of course I am not a rich man, children, and we must all help to +keep the kettle boiling; but the house is my own, and you can all +shelter in it if you like; it will save house-rent and taxes, at any +rate for the present." + +"Carrie and I will work," I replied, eagerly; for, though Uncle +Geoffrey was not a poor man, he was very far from being rich, and he +could not possibly afford to keep us all. A third of his income went to +poor Aunt Prue, who had married foolishly, and was now a widow with a +large family. + +Aunt Prue would have been penniless, only father and Uncle Geoff agreed +to allow her a fixed maintenance. As Uncle Geoff explained to us +afterward, she would now lose half her income. + +"There are eight children, and two or three of them are very delicate, +and take after their father. I have been thinking about it all, +Esther," he said, when Allan and I were alone with him, "and I have +made up my mind that I must allow her another hundred a year. Poor +soul, she works hard at that school-keeping of hers, and none of the +children are old enough to help her except Lawrence, and he is going +into a decline, the doctors say. I am afraid we shall have to pinch a +bit, unless you and Carrie get some teaching." + +"Oh, Uncle Geoff, of course we shall work; and Jack, too, when she is +old enough." Could he think we should be a burden on him, when we were +all young and strong? + +I had forgotten poor Aunt Prue, who lived a long way off, and whom we +saw but seldom. She was a pretty, subdued little woman, who always wore +shabby black gowns; I never saw her in a good dress in my life. Well, +we were as poor as Aunt Prue now, and I wondered if we should make such +a gallant fight against misfortune as she did. + +We arranged matters after that--Allan and Uncle Geoff and I; for Carrie +had gone to sit with mother, and Fred had strolled off somewhere. They +wanted me to try my hand at housekeeping; at least, until mother was +stronger and more able to bear things. + +"Carrie hates it, and you have a good head for accounts," Allan +observed, quietly. It seemed rather strange that they should make me +take the head, when Carrie was two years older, and a week ago I was +only a schoolgirl; but I felt they were right, for I liked planning and +contriving, and Carrie detested anything she called domestic drudgery. + +We considered ways and means after that. Uncle Geoffrey told us the +exact amount of his income, He had always lived very comfortably, but +when he had deducted the extra allowance for poor Aunt Prue, we saw +clearly that there was not enough for so large a party; but at the +first hint of this from Allan Uncle Geoffrey got quite warm and eager. +Dear, generous Uncle Geoff! he was determined to share his last crust +with his dead brother's widow and children. + +"Nonsense, fiddlesticks!" he kept on saying; "what do I want with +luxuries? Ask Deborah if I care what I eat and drink; we shall do very +well, if you and Esther are not so faint-hearted." And when we found +out how our protests seemed to hurt him, we let him have his own way; +only Allan and I exchanged looks, which said as plainly as looks could, +"Is he not the best uncle that ever lived, and will we not work our +hardest to help him?" + +I had a long talk with Carrie that night; she was very submissive and +very sad, and seemed rather downhearted over things. She was quite as +grateful for Uncle Geoff's generosity as we were, but I could see the +notion of being a governess distressed her greatly. "I am very glad you +will undertake the housekeeping, Esther," she said, rather plaintively; +"it will leave me free for other things," and then she sighed very +bitterly, and got up and left me. I was a little sorry that she did not +tell me all that was in her mind, for, if we are "to bear each other's +burdens," it is necessary to break down the reserve that keeps us out +of even a sister's heart sometimes. + +But though Carrie left me to my own thoughts, I was not able to quiet +myself for hours. If I had only Jessie to whom I could talk! and then +it seemed to me as though it were months since we sat together in the +garden of Redmayne House talking out our girlish philosophy. + +Only a fortnight ago, and yet how much had happened since then! What a +revolution in our home-world! Dear father lying in his quiet grave; +ourselves penniless orphans, obliged to leave Combe Manor, and indebted +to our generous benefactor for the very roof that was to cover us and +the food that we were to eat. + +Ah, well! I was only a schoolgirl, barely seventeen. No wonder I shrank +back a little appalled from the responsibilities that awaited me. I was +to be Uncle Geoff's housekeeper, his trusted right-hand and referee. I +was to manage that formidable Deborah, and the stolid, broad-faced +Martha; and there was mother so broken in health and spirits, and Dot, +and Jack, with her hoidenish ways and torn frocks, and Allan miles away +from me, and Carrie--well, I felt half afraid of Carrie to-night; she +seemed meditating great things when I wanted her to compass daily +duties. I hoped she would volunteer to go on with Jack's lessons and +help with the mending, and I wondered with more forebodings what things +she was planning for which I was to leave her free. + +All these things tired me, and I sat rather dismally in the moonlight +looking out at the closed white lilies and the swaying branches of the +limes, until a text suddenly flashed into my mind, "As thy day, so +shall thy strength be." I lit my candle and opened my Bible, that I +might read over the words for myself. Yes, there they were shining +before my eyes, like "apples of gold in pictures of silver," refreshing +and comforting my worn-out spirits. Strength promised for the day, but +not beforehand, supplies of heavenly manna, not to be hoarded or put +by; the daily measure, daily gathered. + +An old verse of Bishop Ken's came to my mind. Very quaint and rich in +wisdom it was: + + "Does each day upon its wing + Its appointed burden bring? + Load it not besides with sorrow + That belongeth to the morrow. + When by God the heart is riven, + Strength is promised, strength is given: + But fore-date the day of woe, + And alone thou bear'st the blow." + +When I had said this over to myself, I laid my head on the pillow and +slept soundly. + +Mother and I had a nice little talk the next day. It was arranged that +I was to go over to Milnthorpe with Uncle Geoffrey, who was obliged to +return home somewhat hastily, in order to talk to Deborah and see what +furniture would be required for the rooms that were placed at our +disposal. As I was somewhat aghast at the amount of business entrusted +to my inexperienced hands, Allan volunteered to help me, as Carrie +could not be spared. + +We were to stay two or three days, make all the arrangements that were +necessary, and then come back and prepare for the flitting. If Allan +were beside me, I felt that I could accomplish wonders; nevertheless, I +carried rather a harassed face into dear mother's dressing-room that +morning. + +"Oh, Esther, how pale and tired you look!" were her first words as I +came toward her couch. "Poor child, we are making you a woman before +your time!" and her eyes filled with tears. + +"I am seventeen," I returned, with an odd little choke in my voice, for +I could have cried with her readily at that moment. "That is quite a +great age, mother; I feel terribly old, I assure you." + +"You are our dear, unselfish Esther," she returned, lovingly. Dear +soul, she always thought the best of us all, and my heart swelled how +proudly, and oh! how gratefully, when she told me in her sweet gentle +way what a comfort I was to her. + +"You are so reliable, Esther," she went on, "that we all look to you as +though you were older. You must be Uncle Geoffrey's favorite, I think, +from the way he talks about you. Carrie is very sweet and good too, but +she is not so practical." + +"Oh, mother, she is ever so much better than I!" I cried, for I could +not bear the least disparagement of my darling Carrie. "Think how +pretty she is, and how little she cares for dress and admiration. If I +were like that," I added, flushing a little over my words, "I'm afraid +I should be terribly vain." + +Mother smiled a little at that. + +"Be thankful then that you are saved that temptation." And then she +stroked my hot cheek and went on softly: "Don't think so much about +your looks, child; plain women are just as vain as pretty ones. Not +that you are plain, Esther, in my eyes, or in the eyes of any one who +loves you." But even that did not quite comfort me, for in my secret +heart my want of beauty troubled me sadly. There, I have owned the +worst of myself--it is out now. + +We talked for a long time after that about the new life that lay before +us, and again I marveled at mother's patience and submission; but when +I told her so she only hid her face and wept. + +"What does it matter?" she said, at last, when she had recovered +herself a little. "No home can be quite a home to me now without him. +If I could live within sight of his grave, I should be thankful; but +Combe Manor and Milnthrope are the same to me now." And though these +words struck me as strange at first, I understood afterward; for in the +void and waste of her widowed life no outer change of circumstances +seemed to disturb her, except for our sakes and for us. + +She seemed to feel Uncle Geoffrey's kindness as a sort of stay and +source of endless comfort. "Such goodness--such unselfishness!" she +kept murmuring to herself; and then she wanted to hear all that Allan +and I proposed. + +"How I wish I could get strong and help you," she said, wistfully, when +I had finished. "With all that teaching and housekeeping, I am afraid +you will overtax your strength." + +"Oh, no, Carrie will help me," I returned, confidently. "Uncle Geoffrey +is going to speak to some of his patients about us. He rather thinks +those Thornes who live opposite to him want a governess." + +"That will be nice and handy, and save you a walk," she returned, +brightening up at the notion that one of us would be so near her; but +though I would not have hinted at such a thing, I should rather have +enjoyed the daily walk. I was fond of fresh air, and exercise, and +rushing about, after the manner of girls, and it seemed rather tame and +monotonous just to cross the street to one's work; but I remembered +Allan's favorite speech, "Beggars must not be choosers," and held my +peace. + +On the whole, I felt somewhat comforted by my talk with mother. If she +and Uncle Geoffrey thought so well of me, I must try and live up to +their good opinion. There is nothing so good as to fix a high standard +for one's self. True, we may never reach it, never satisfy ourselves, +but the continued effort strengthens and elevates us. + +I went into Carrie's room to tell her about the Thornes, and lay our +plans together, but she was reading Thomas a Kempis, and did not seem +inclined to be disturbed, so I retreated somewhat discomforted. + +But I forgot my disappointment a moment afterward, when I went into the +schoolroom and found Dot fractious and weary, and Jack vainly trying to +amuse him. Allan was busy, and the two children had passed a solitary +morning. + +"Dot wanted Carrie to read to him, but she said she was too tired, and +I could do it," grumbled Jack, disconsolately. + +"I don't like Jack's reading; it is too jerky, and her voice is too +loud," returned Dot; but his countenance smoothed when I got the book +and read to him, and soon he fell into a sound sleep. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE OLD HOUSE AT MILNTHORPE. + + +The following afternoon Uncle Geoffrey, Allan, and I, started for +Milnthorpe. Youthful grief is addicted to restlessness--it is only the +old who can sit so silently and weep; it was perfectly natural, then, +that I should hail a few days' change with feelings of relief. + +It was rather late in the evening when we arrived. As we drove through +the market place there was the usual group of idlers loitering on the +steps of the Red Lion, who stared at us lazily as we passed. Milnthorpe +was an odd, primitive little place--the sunniest and sleepiest of +country towns. It had a steep, straggling Highstreet, which ended in a +wide, deserted-looking square, which rather reminded one of the Place +in some Continental town. The weekly markets were held here, on which +occasion the large white portico of the Red Lion was never empty. +Milnthorpe woke with brief spasms of life on Monday morning; +broad-shouldered men jostled each other on the grass-grown pavements; +large country wagons, sweet-smelling in haymaking seasons, blocked up +the central spaces; country women, with gay-colored handkerchiefs, sold +eggs, and butter, and poultry In the square; and two or three farmers, +with their dogs at their heels, lingered under the windows of the Red +Lion, fingering the samples in their pockets, and exchanging dismal +prognostications concerning the crops and the weather. One side of the +square was occupied by St. Barnabas, with its pretty shaded churchyard +and old gray vicarage. On the opposite side was the handsome red brick +house occupied by Mr. Lucas, the banker, and two or three other houses, +more or less pretentious, inhabited by the gentry of Milnthorpe. + +Uncle Geoffrey lived at the lower end of the High street. It was a +tall, narrow house, with old-fashioned windows and wire blinds. These +blinds, which were my detestation, were absolutely necessary, as the +street door opened directly on the street. There was one smooth, long +step, and that was all. It had rather a dull outside look, but the +moment one entered the narrow wainscoted hall, there was a cheery vista +of green lawn and neatly graveled paths through the glass door. + +The garden was the delight of Uncle Geoffrey's heart. It was somewhat +narrow, to match the house; but in the center of the lawn, there was a +glorious mulberry tree, the joy of us children. Behind was a wonderful +intricacy of slim, oddly-shaped flower-beds, intersected by miniature +walks, where two people could with difficulty walk abreast; and beyond +this lay a tolerable kitchen garden, where Deborah grew cabbages and +all sorts of homely herbs, and where tiny pink roses and sturdy +sweet-williams blossomed among the gooseberry bushes. + +On one side of the house were two roomy parlors, divided by folding +doors. We never called them anything but parlors, for the shabby +wainscoted walls and old-fashioned furniture forbade any similitude to +the modern drawing-room. + +On the other side of the hall was Uncle Geoffrey's study--a somewhat +grim, dingy apartment, with brown shelves full of ponderous tomes, a +pipe-rack filled with fantastic pipes, deep old cupboards full of +hetereogeneous rubbish, and wide easy-chairs that one could hardly +lift, one of which was always occupied by Jumbles, Uncle Geoffrey's dog. + +Jumbles was a great favorite with us all. He was a solemn, wise-looking +dog of the terrier breed, indeed, I believe Uncle Geoff called him a +Dandy Dinmont--blue-gray in color, with a great head, and deep-set +intelligent eyes. It was Uncle Geoffrey's opinion that Jumbles +understood all one said to him. He would sit with his head slightly on +one side, thumping his tail against the floor, with a sort of glimmer +of fun in his eyes, as though he comprehended our conversation, and +interposed a "Hear, hear!" and when he had had enough of it, and we +were growing prosy, he would turn over on his back with an expression +of abject weariness, as though canine reticence objected to human +garrulity. + +Jumbles was a rare old philosopher--a sort of four-footed Diogenes. He +was discerning in his friendships, somewhat aggressive and splenetic to +his equals; intolerant of cats, whom he hunted like vermin, and rather +disdainfully condescending to the small dogs of Milnthorpe. Jumbles +always accompanied Uncle Geoffrey in his rounds. He used to take his +place in the gig with undeviating punctuality; nothing induced him to +desert his post when the night-bell rang. He would rouse up from his +sleep, and go out in the coldest weather. We used to hear his deep bark +under the window as they sallied out in the midnight gloom. + +The morning after we arrived, Allan and I made a tour of inspection +through the house. There were only three rooms on the first +floor--Uncle Geoffrey's, with its huge four-post bed; a large front +room, that we both decided would just do for mother; and a smaller one +at the back, that, after a few minutes' deliberation, I allotted to +Carrie. + +It caused me an envious pang or two before I yielded it, for I knew I +must share a large upper room with Jack; the little room behind it must +be for Dot, and the larger one would by-and-by be Allan's. I confess my +heart sank a little when I thought of Jack's noisiness and thriftless +ways; but when I remembered how fond she was of good books, and the +great red-leaved diary that lay on her little table, I thought it +better that Carrie should have a quiet corner to herself, and then she +would be near mother. + +If only Jack could be taught to hold her tongue sometimes, and keep her +drawers in order, instead of strewing her room with muddy boots and odd +items of attire! Well, perhaps it might be my mission to train Jack to +more orderly habits. I would set her a good example, and coax her to +follow it. She was good-tempered and affectionate, and perhaps I should +find her sufficiently pliable. I was so lost in these anxious thoughts +that Allan had left me unperceived. I found him in the back parlor, +seated on the table, and looking about him rather gloomily. + +"I say, Esther!" he called out, as soon as he caught sight of me, "I am +afraid mother and Carrie will find this rather shabby after the dear +old rooms at Combe Manor. Could we not furbish it up a little?" And +Allan looked discontentedly at the ugly curtains and little, straight +horse-hair sofa. Everything had grown rather shabby, only Uncle +Geoffrey had not found it out. + +"Oh, of course!" I exclaimed, joyfully, for all sorts of brilliant +thoughts had come to me while I tossed rather wakefully in the early +morning hours. "Don't you know, Allan, that Uncle Geoffrey has decided +to send mother and Carrie and Dot down to the sea for a week, while you +and I and Jack make things comfortable for them? Now, why should we not +help ourselves to the best of the furniture at Combe Manor, and make +Uncle Geoff turn out all these ugly things? We might have our pretty +carpet from the drawing-room, and the curtains, and mother's couch, and +some of the easy-chairs, and the dear little carved cabinet with our +purple china; it need not all be sold when we want it so badly for +mother." + +Allan was so delighted at the idea that we propounded our views to +Uncle Geoffrey at dinner-time; but he did not see the thing quite in +our light. + +"Of course you will need furniture for the bedrooms," he returned, +rather dubiously; "but I wanted to sell the rest of the things that +were not absolutely needed, and invest the money." + +But this sensible view of the matter did not please me or Allan. We had +a long argument, which ended in a compromise--the question of carpets +might rest. Uncle Geoffrey's was a good Brussels, although it was +dingy; but I might retain, if I liked, the pretty striped curtains from +our drawing-room at Combe Manor, and mother's couch, and a few of the +easy-chairs, and the little cabinet with the purple china; and then +there was mother's inlaid work-table, and Carrie's davenport, and books +belonging to both of us, and a little gilt clock that father had given +mother on her last wedding-day--all these things would make an entire +renovation in the shabby parlors. + +I was quite excited by all these arrangements; but an interview with +Deborah soon cooled my ardor. + +Allan and Jumbles had gone out with Uncle Geoffrey, and I was sitting +at the window looking over the lawn and the mulberry tree, when a +sudden tap at the door startled me from my reverie. Of course it was +Deborah; no one else's knuckles sounded as though they were iron. +Deborah was a tall, angular woman, very spare and erect of figure, with +a severe cast of countenance, and heavy black curls pinned up under her +net cap; her print dresses were always starched until they crackled, +and on Sunday her black silk dress rustled as I never heard any silk +dress rustle before. + +"Yes, Deborah, what is it?" I asked, half-frightened; for surely my +hour had come. Deborah was standing so very erect, with the basket of +keys in her hands, and her mouth drawn down at the corners. + +"Master said this morning," began Deborah, grimly, "as how there was a +new family coming to live here, and that I was to go to Miss Esther for +orders. Five-and-twenty years have I cooked master's dinners for him, +and received his orders, and never had a word of complaint from his +lips, and now he is putting a mistress over me and Martha." + +"Oh, Deborah," I faltered, and then I came to a full stop; for was it +not trying to a woman of her age and disposition, used to Uncle +Geoffrey's bachelor ways, to have a houseful of young people turned on +her hands? She and Martha would have to work harder, and they were both +getting old. I felt so much for her that the tears came into my eyes, +and my voice trembled. + +"It is hard!" I burst out; "it is very hard for you and Martha to have +your quiet life disturbed. But how could we help coming here, when we +had no home and no money, and Uncle Geoffrey was so generous? And then +there was Dot and mother so ailing." And at the thought of all our +helplessness, and Uncle Geoffrey's goodness a great tear rolled down my +cheek. It was very babyish and undignified; but, after all, no +assumption of womanliness would have helped me so much. Deborah's grim +mouth relaxed; under her severe exterior, and with her sharp tongue, +there beat a very kind heart, and Dot was her weak point. + +"Well, well, crying won't help the pot to boil, Miss Esther!" she said, +brusquely enough; but I could see she was coming round. "Master was +always that kind-hearted that he would have sheltered the whole parish +if he could. I am not blaming him, though it goes hard with Martha and +me, who have led peaceable, orderly lives, and never had a mistress or +thought of one since Miss Blake died, and the master took up thoughts +of single blessedness in earnest." + +"What sort of woman was Miss Blake?" I asked, eagerly, forgetting my +few troubled tears at the thought of Uncle Geoffrey's one romance. The +romance of middle-aged people always came with a faint, far-away odor +to us young ones, like some old garment laid up in rose-leaves or +lavender, which must needs be of quaint fashion and material, but +doubtless precious in the eyes of the wearer. + +"Woman!" returned Deborah, with an angry snort; "she was a lady, if +there ever was one. We don't see her sort every day, I can tell you +that, Miss Esther; a pretty-spoken, dainty creature, with long fair +curls, that one longed to twine round one's fingers." + +"She was pretty, then?" I hazarded more timidly. + +"Pretty! she was downright beautiful. Miss Carrie reminds me of her +sometimes, but she is not near so handsome as poor Miss Rose. She used +to come here sometimes with her mother, and she and master would sit +under that mulberry tree. I can see her now walking over the grass in +her white gown, with some apple blossoms in her hand, talking and +laughing with him. It was a sad day when she lay in the fever, and did +not know him, for all his calling to her 'Rose! Rose!' I was with her +when she died, and I thought he would never hold up his head again." + +"Poor Uncle Geoffrey! But he is cheerful and contented now." + +"But there, I must not stand gossiping," continued Deborah, +interrupting herself. "I have only brought you the keys, and wish to +know what preserve you and Mr. Allan might favor for tea." + +But here I caught hold, not of the key-basket, but of the hard, +work-worn hand that held it. + +"Oh, Deborah! do be good to us!" I broke out: "we will trouble you and +Martha as little as possible, and we are all going to put our shoulders +to the wheel and help ourselves; and we have no home but this, and no +one to take care of us but Uncle Geoffrey." + +"I don't know but I will make some girdle cakes for tea," returned +Deborah, in the most imperturbable voice; and she turned herself round +abruptly, and walked out of the room without another word. But I was +quite well satisfied and triumphant. When Deborah baked girdle cakes, +she meant the warmest of welcomes, and no end of honor to Uncle +Geoffrey's guests. + +"Humph! girdle cakes!" observed Uncle Geoffrey, with a smile, as he +regarded them. "Deb is in a first-rate humor, then. You have played +your cards well, old lady," and his eyes twinkled merrily. + +I went into the kitchen after tea, and had another long talk with +Deborah. Dear old kitchen! How many happy hours we children had spent +in it! It was very low and dark, and its two windows looked out on the +stable-yard; but in the evening, when the fire burned clear and the +blinds were drawn, it was a pleasant place. Deborah and Martha used to +sit in the brown Windsor chairs knitting, with Puff, the great tabby +cat, beside them, and the firelight would play on the red brick floor +and snug crimson curtains. + +Deborah and I had a grand talk that night. She was a trifle obstinate +and dogmatical, but we got on fairly well. To do her justice, her chief +care seemed to be that her master should not be interfered with in any +of his ways. "He will work harder than ever," she groaned, "now there +are all these mouths to feed. He and Jumbles will be fairly worn out." + +But our talk contented me. I had enlisted Deborah's sympathies on our +side. I felt the battle was over. I was only a "bit thing" as Deborah +herself called me, and I was tolerably tired when I went up to my room +that night. + +Not that I felt inclined for sleep. Oh dear no! I just dragged the big +easy-chair to the window, and sat there listening to the patter of +summer rain on the leaves. + +It was very dark, for the moon had hidden her face; but through the +cool dampness there crept a delicious fragrance of wet jasmine and +lilies. I wanted to have a good "think;" not to sit down and take +myself to pieces. Oh no, that was Carrie's way. Such introspection +bored me and did me little good, for it only made me think more of +myself and less of the Master; but I wanted to review the past +fortnight, and look the future in the face. Foolish Esther! As though +we can look at a veiled face. Only the past and the present is ours; +the future is hidden with God. + +Yes, a fortnight ago I was a merry, heedless schoolgirl, with no +responsibilities and few duties, except that laborious one of +self-improvement, which must go on, under some form or other, until we +die. And now, on my shrinking shoulders lay the weight of a woman's +work. I was to teach others, when I knew so little myself; it was I who +was to have the largest share of home administration--I, who was so +faulty, so imperfect. + +Then I remembered a sentence Carrie had once read to me out of one of +her innumerable books, and which had struck me very greatly at the time. + +"Happy should I think myself," said St. Francis de Sales, "if I could +rid myself of my imperfections but one quarter of an hour previous to +my death." + +Well, if a saint could say that, why should I lose heart thinking about +my faults? What was the good of stirring up muddy water to try and see +one's own miserable reflection, when one could look up into the serene +blue of Divine Providence? If I had faults--and, alas! how many they +were--I must try to remedy them; if I slipped, I must pray for strength +to rise again. + +Courage, Esther! "Little by little," as Uncle Geoffrey says; "small +beginnings make great endings." And when I had cheered myself with +these words I went tranquilly to bed. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +THE FLITTING. + + +So the old Combe Manor days were over, and with them the girlhood of +Esther Cameron. + +Ah me! it was sad to say good-by to the dear old home of our childhood; +to go round to our haunts, one by one, and look our last at every +cherished nook and corner; to bid farewell to our four-footed pets, +Dapple and Cherry and Brindle, and the dear little spotted calves; to +caress our favorite pigeons for the last time, and to feed the greedy +old turkey-cock, who had been the terror of our younger days. It was +well, perhaps, that we were too busy for a prolonged leave-taking. Fred +had gone to London, and his handsome lugubrious face no longer +overlooked us as we packed books and china. Carrie and mother and Dot +were cozily established in the little sea-side lodging, and only Allan, +Jack, and I sat down to our meals in the dismantled rooms. + +It was hard work trying to keep cheerful, when Allan left off +whistling, as he hammered at the heavy cases, and when Jack was +discovered sobbing in odd corners, with Smudge in her arms--of course +Smudge would accompany us to Milnthorpe; no one could imagine Jack +without her favorite sable attendant, and then Dot was devoted to him. +Jack used to come to us with piteous pleadings to take first one and +then another of her pets; now it was the lame chicken she had nursed in +a little basket by the kitchen fire, then a pair of guinea pigs that +belonged to Dot, and some carrier pigeons that they specially fancied; +after that, she was bent on the removal of a young family of hedgehogs, +and some kittens that had been discovered in the hay-loft, belonging to +the stable cat. + +We made a compromise at last, and entrusted to her care Carrie's tame +canaries, and a cage of dormice that belonged to Dot, in whose fate +Smudge look a vast amount of interest, though he never ventured to look +at the canaries. The care of these interesting captives was consolatory +to Jack, though she rained tears over them in secret, and was overheard +by Allan telling them between her sobs that "they were all going to +live in a little pokey house, without chickens or cows, or anything +that would make life pleasant, and that she and they must never expect +to be happy again." Ah, well! the longest day must have an end, and +by-and-by the evening came when we turned away from dear old Combe +Manor forever. + +It was far more cheerful work fitting up the new rooms at Milnthorpe, +with Deborah's strong arms to help, and Uncle Geoffrey standing by to +encourage our efforts; even Jack plucked up heart then, and hung up the +canaries, and hid away the dormice out of Smudge's and Jumbles' reach, +and consented to stretch her long legs in our behalf. Allan and I +thought we had done wonders when all was finished, and even Deborah +gave an approving word. + +"I think mother and Carrie will be pleased," I said, as I put some +finishing touches to the tea-table on the evening we expected them. +Allan had gone to the station to meet them, and only Uncle Geoffrey was +my auditor. There was a great bowl of roses on the table, great +crimson-hearted, delicious roses, and a basket of nectarines, that some +patient had sent to Uncle Geoffrey. The parlors looked very pretty and +snug; we had arranged our books on the shelves, and had hung up two or +three choice engravings, and there was the gleam of purple and gold +china from the dark oak cabinet, and by the garden window there were +mother's little blue couch and her table and workbox, and Carrie's +davenport, and an inviting easy-chair. The new curtains looked so well, +too. No wonder Uncle Geoffrey declared that he did not recognize his +old room. + +"I am sure they will be pleased," I repeated, as I moved the +old-fashioned glass dish full of our delicious Combe Manor honey; but +Uncle Geoffrey did not answer; he was listening to some wheels in the +distance. + +"There they are," he said, snatching up his felt wide-awake. "Don't +expect your mother to notice much to-night, Esther; poor thing, this is +a sad coming home to her." + +I need not have worked so hard; that was my first thought when I saw +mother's face as she entered the room. She was trembling like a leaf, +and her face was all puckered and drawn, as I kissed her; but Uncle +Geoffrey would not let her sit down or look at anything. + +"No, no, you shall not make efforts for us to-night," he said, patting +her as though she were a child. "Take your mother upstairs, children, +and let her have quiet! do you hear, nothing but quiet to-night." And +then Allan drew her arm through his. + +I cried shame on myself for a selfish, disappointed pang, as I followed +them. Of course Uncle Geoffrey was right and wise, as he always was, +and I was still more ashamed of myself when I entered the room and +found mother crying as though her heart would break, and clinging to +Allan. + +"Oh, children, children! how can I live without your father?" she +exclaimed, hysterically. Well, it was wise of Allan, for he let that +pass and never said a word; he only helped me remove the heavy widow's +bonnet and cloak, and moved the big chintz couch nearer to the window, +and then he told me to be quick and bring her some tea; and when I +returned he was sitting by her, fanning and talking to her in his +pleasant boyish way; and though the tears were still flowing down her +pale cheeks she sobbed less convulsively. + +"You have both been so good, and worked so hard, and I cannot thank +you," she whispered, taking my hand, as I stood near her. + +"Esther does not want to be thanked," returned Allan, sturdily. "Now +you will take your tea, won't you, mother? and by-and-by one of the +girls shall come and sit with you." + +"Are we to go down and leave her?" I observed, dubiously, as Allan rose +from his seat. + +"Yes, go, both of you, I shall be better alone; Allan knows that," with +a grateful glance as I reluctantly obeyed her. I was too young to +understand the healing effects of quiet and silence in a great grief; +to me the thought of such loneliness was dreadful, until, later on, she +explained the whole matter. + +"I am never less alone than when I am alone," she said once, very +simply to me. "I have the remembrance of your dear father and his words +and looks ever before me, and God is so near--one feels that most when +one is solitary." And her words remained with me long afterward. + +It was not such a very sad evening, after all. The sea air had done Dot +good, and he was in better spirits; and then Carrie was so good and +sweet, and so pleased with everything. + +"How kind of you, Esther," she said, with tears in her eyes, as I led +her into her little bedroom. "I hardly dared hope for this, and so near +dear mother." Well, it was very tiny, but very pretty, too. Carrie had +her own little bed, in which she had slept from a child, and the +evening sun streamed full on it, and a pleasant smell of white jasmine +pervaded it; part of the window was framed with the delicate tendrils +and tiny buds; and there was her little prayer-desk, with its shelf of +devotional books, and her little round table and easy-chair standing +just as it used; only, if one looked out of the window, instead of the +belt of green circling meadows, dotted over by grazing cattle there was +the lawn and the mulberry tree--a little narrow and homely, but still +pleasant. + +Carrie's eyes looked very vague and misty when I left her and went down +to Dot. Allan had put him to bed, but he would not hear of going to +sleep; he had his dormice beside him, and Jumbles was curled up at the +foot of the bed; he wanted to show me his seaweed and shells, and tell +me about the sea. + +"I can't get it out of my head, Essie," he said, sitting up among his +pillows and looking very wide-awake and excited. "I used to fall asleep +listening to the long wash and roll of the waves, and in the morning +there it was again. Don't you love the sea?" + +"Yes, dearly, Dot; and so does Allan." + +"It reminded me of the "Pilgrim's Progress"--just the last part. Don't +you remember the river that every one was obliged to cross? Carrie told +me it meant death." I nodded; Dot did not always need an answer to his +childish fancies, he used to like to tell them all out to Allan and me. +"One night," he went on, "my back was bad, and I could not sleep, and +Carrie made me up a nest of pillows in a big chair by the window, and +we sat there ever so long after mother was fast asleep. + +"It was so light--almost as light as day--and there were all sorts of +sparkles over the water, as though it were shaking out tiny stars in +play; and there was one broad golden path--oh! it was so beautiful--and +then I thought of Christian and Christiana, and Mr. Ready-to-halt, and +father, and they all crossed the river, you know." + +"Yes, Dot," I whispered. And then I repeated softly the well-known +verse we had so often sung: + + "One army of the living God, + To His command we bow; + Part of the host have crossed the flood, + And part are crossing now." + +"Yes, yes," he repeated, eagerly; "it seemed as though I could see +father walking down the long golden path; it shone so, he could not +have missed his way or fallen into the dark waters. Carrie told me that +by-and-by there would be "no more sea," somehow; I was sorry for +that--aren't you, Essie?" + +"Oh, no, don't be sorry," I burst out, for I had often talked about +this with Carrie. "It is beautiful, but it is too shifting, too +treacherous, too changeable, to belong to the higher life. Think of all +the cruel wrecks, of all the drowned people it has swallowed up in its +rage; it devours men and women, and little children, Dot, and hides its +mischief with a smile. Oh, no, it is false in its beauty, and there +shall be an end of it, with all that is not true and perfect." + +And when Dot had fallen asleep, I went down to Uncle Geoffrey and +repeated our conversation, to which he listened with a great deal of +interest. + +"You are perfectly right, Esther," he said, thoughtfully; "but I think +there is another meaning involved in the words 'There shall be no more +sea.'" + +"The sea divides us often from those we love," he went on musingly; "it +is our great earthly barrier. In that perfected life that lies before +us there can be no barrier, no division, no separating boundaries. In +the new earth there will be no fierce torrents or engulfing ocean, no +restless moaning of waves. Do you not see this?" + +"Yes, indeed, Uncle Geoffrey;" but all the same I thought in my own +mind that it was a pretty fancy of the child's, thinking that he saw +father walking across the moonlight sea. No, he could not have fallen +in the dark water, no fear of that, Dot, when the angel of His mercy +would hold him by the hand; and then I remembered a certain lake and a +solemn figure walking quietly on its watery floor, and the words, "It +is I, be not afraid," that have comforted many a dying heart! + +Allan had to leave us the next day, and go back to his work; it was a +pity, as his mere presence, the very sound of his bright, young voice, +seemed to rouse mother and do her good. As for me, I knew when Allan +went some of the sunshine would go with him, and the world would have a +dull, work-a-day look. I tried to tell him so as we took our last walk +together. There was a little lane just by Uncle Geoffrey's house; you +turned right into it from the High street, and it led into the country, +within half a mile of the house. There were some haystacks and a +farmyard, a place that went by the name of Grubbings' Farm; the soft +litter of straw tempted us to sit down for a little, and listen to the +quiet lowing of the cattle as they came up from their pasture to be +milked. + +"It reminds me of Combe Manor," I said, and there was something wet on +my cheek as I spoke; "and oh, Allan! how I shall miss you to-morrow," +and I touched his coat sleeve furtively, for Allan was not one to love +demonstration. But, to my surprise, he gave me a kind little pat. + +"Not more than I shall miss you," he returned, cheerily. "We always get +along well, you and I, don't we, little woman?" And as I nodded my +head, for something seemed to impede my utterance at that moment, he +went on more seriously, "You have a tough piece of work before you, +Esther, you and Carrie; you will have to put your Combe Manor pride in +your pockets, and summon up all your Cameron strength of mind before +you learn to submit to the will of strangers. + +"Our poor, pretty Carrie," he continued, regretfully; "the little +saint, as Uncle Geoffrey used to call her. I am afraid her work will +not be quite to her mind, but you must smoothe her way as much as +possible; but there, I won't preach on my last evening; let me have +your plans instead, my dear." + +But I had no plans to tell him, and so we drifted by degrees into +Allan's own work; and as he told me about the hospital and his student +friends, and the great bustling world in which we lived, I forgot my +own cares. If I had not much of a life of my own to lead, I could still +live in his. + +The pleasure of this talk lingered long in my memory; it was so nice to +feel that Allan and I understood each other so well and had no divided +interests; it always seems to me that a sister ought to dwell in the +heart of a brother and keep it warm for that other and sacred love that +must come by-and-by; not that the wife need drive the sister into outer +darkness, but that there must be a humbler abiding in the outer court, +perchance a little guest-chamber on the wall; the nearer and more royal +abode must be for the elected woman among women. + +There is too little giving up and coming down in this world, too much +jealous assertion of right, too little yielding of the scepter in love. +It may be hard--God knows it is hard, to our poor human nature, for +some cherished sister to stand a little aside while another takes +possession of the goodly mansion, yet if she be wise and bend gently to +the new influence, there will be a "come up higher," long before the +dregs of the feast are reached. Old bonds are not easily broken, early +days have a sweetness of their own; by-and-by the sister will find her +place ready for her, and welcoming hands stretched out without grudging. + +The next morning I rose early to see Allan off Just at the last moment +Carrie came down in her pretty white wrapper to bid him good-by. Allan +was strapping up his portmanteau in the hall, and shook his head at her +in comic disapproval. "Fie, what pale cheeks, Miss Carrie! One would +think you had been burning the midnight oil." I wonder if Allan's +jesting words approached the truth, for Carrie's face flushed suddenly, +and she did not answer. + +Allan did not seem to notice her confusion. He bade us both good-by +very affectionately, and told us to be good girls and take care of +ourselves, and then in a moment he was gone. + +Breakfast was rather a miserable business after that; I was glad Uncle +Geoffrey read his paper so industriously and did not peep behind the +urn. Dot did, and slipped a hot little hand in mine, in an +old-fashioned sympathizing way. Carrie, who was sitting in her usual +dreamy, abstracted way, suddenly startled us all by addressing Uncle +Geoffrey rather abruptly. + +"Uncle Geoffrey, don't you think either Esther or I ought to go over to +the Thornes? They want a governess, you know." + +"Eh, what?" returned Uncle Geoffrey, a little disturbed at the +interruption in the middle of the leading article. "The Thornes? Oh, +yes, somebody was saying something to me the other day about them; what +was it?" And he rubbed his hair a little irritably. + +"We need not trouble Uncle Geoffrey," I put in, softly; "you and I can +go across before mother comes down. I must speak to Deborah, and then I +meant to hear Jack's lessons, but they can wait." + +"Very well," returned Carrie, nonchalantly; and then she added, in her +composed, elder sisterly way, "I may as well tell you, Esther, that I +mean to apply for the place myself; it will be so handy, the house +being just opposite; far more convenient than if I had a longer walk." + +"Very well," was my response, but I could not help feeling a little +relief at her decision; the absence of any walk was an evil in my eyes. +The Thornes' windows looked into ours; already I had had a sufficient +glimpse of three rather untidy little heads over the wire blind, and +the spectacle had not attracted me. I ventured to hint my fears to +Carrie that they were not very interesting children; but, to my dismay, +she answered that few children are interesting, and that one was as +good as another. + +"But I mean to be fond of my pupils," I hazarded, rather timidly, as I +took my basket of keys. I thought Uncle Geoffrey was deep in his paper +again. "I think a governess ought to have a good moral influence over +them. Mother always said so." + +"We can have a good moral influence without any personal fondness," +returned Carrie, rather dryly. Poor girl! her work outside was +distasteful to her, and she could not help showing it sometimes. + +"One cannot take interest in a child without loving it in time," I +returned, with a little heat, for I did not enjoy this slavish notion +of duty--pure labor, and nothing else. Carrie did not answer, she +leaned rather wearily against the window, and looked absently out. +Uncle Geoffrey gave her a shrewd glance as he folded up the newspaper +and whistled to Jumbles. + +"Settle it between yourselves girls," he observed, suddenly, as he +opened the door; "but if I were little Annie Thorne, I know I should +choose Esther;" and with this parting thrust he left the room, making +us feel terribly abashed. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +OVER THE WAY. + + +I cannot say that I was prepossessed with the Thorne family, neither +was Carrie. + +Mrs. Thorne was what I call a loud woman; her voice was loud, and she +was full of words, and rather inquisitive on the subject of her +neighbors. + +She was somewhat good-looking, but decidedly over-dressed. Early as it +was, she was in a heavily-flounced silk dress, a little the worse for +wear. I guessed that first day, with a sort of feminine intuition, that +Mrs. Thorne wore out all her second-best clothes in the morning. +Perhaps it was my country bringing up, but I thought how pure and fresh +Carrie's modest dress looked beside it; and as for the quiet face under +the neatly-trimmed bonnet, I could see Mrs. Thorne fell in love with it +at once. She scarcely looked at or spoke to me, except when civility +demanded it; and perhaps she was right, for who would care to look at +me when Carrie was by? Then Carrie played, and I knew her exquisite +touch would demand instant admiration. I was a mere bungler, a beginner +beside her; she even sang a charming little _chanson_. No wonder Mrs. +Thorne was delighted to secure such an accomplished person for her +children's governess. The three little girls came in by-and-by--shy, +awkward children, with their mother's black eyes, but without her fine +complexion; plain, uninteresting little girls, with a sort of solemn +non-intelligence in their blank countenances, and a perceptible +shrinking from their mother's sharp voice. + +"Shake hands with Miss Cameron, Lucy; she is going to teach you all +manner of nice things. Hold yourself straight, Annie. What will these +young ladies think of you, Belle, if they look at your dirty pinafore? +Mine are such troublesome children," she continued, in a complaining +voice; "they are never nice and tidy and obedient, like other children. +Mr. Thorne spoils them, and then finds fault with me." + +"What is your name, dear?" I whispered to the youngest, when Mrs. +Thorne had withdrawn with Carrie for a few minutes. They were certainly +very unattractive children; nevertheless, my heart warmed to them, as +it did to all children. I was child-lover all my life. + +"Annie," returned the little one, shyly rolling her fat arms in her +pinafore. She was less plain than the others, and had not outgrown her +plumpness. + +"Do you know I have a little brother at home, who is a sad invalid;" +and then I told them about Dot, about his patience and his sweet ways, +and how he amused himself when he could not get off his couch for +weeks; and as I warmed and grew eloquent with my subject, their eyes +became round and fixed, and a sort of dawning interest woke up on their +solemn faces; they forgot I was a stranger, and came closer, and Belle +laid a podgy and a very dirty hand on my lap. + +"How old is your little boy?" asked Lucy, in a shrill whisper. And as I +answered her Mrs. Thorne and Carrie re-entered the room. They both +looked surprised when they saw the children grouped round me; Carrie's +eyebrows elevated themselves a little quizzically, and Mrs. Thorne +called them away rather sharply. + +"Don't take liberties with strangers, children. What will Miss Cameron +think of such manners?" And then she dismissed them rather summarily. I +saw Annie steal a little wistful look at me as she followed her sisters. + +We took our leave after that. Mrs. Thorne shook hands with us very +graciously, but her parting words were addressed to Carrie. "On Monday, +then. Please give my kind regards to Dr. Cameron, and tell him how +thoroughly satisfied I am with the proposed arrangement." And Carrie +answered very prettily, but as the door closed she sighed heavily. + +"Oh, what children! and what a mother!" she gasped, as she took my arm, +and turned my foot-steps away from the house. "Never mind Jack, I am +going to the service at St. Barnabas; I want some refreshment after +what I have been through." And she sighed again. + +"But, Carrie," I remonstrated, "I have no time to spare. You know how +Jack has been neglected, and how I have promised Allan to do my best +for her until we can afford to send her to school." + +"You can walk with me to the church door," she returned, decidedly. I +was beginning to find out that Carrie could be self-willed sometimes. +"I must talk to you, Esther; I must tell you how I hate it. Fancy +trying to hammer French and music into those children's heads, when I +might--I might--" But here she stopped, actually on the verge of crying. + +"Oh, my darling, Carrie!" I burst out, for I never could bear to see +her sweet face clouded for a moment, and she so seldom cried or gave +way to any emotion. "Why would you not let me speak? I might have saved +you this. I might have offered myself in your stead, and set you free +for pleasanter work." But she shook her head, and struggled for +composure. + +"You would not have done for Mrs. Thorne, Esther. Don't think me vain +if I say that I play and sing far better than you." + +"A thousand times better," I interposed. "And then you can draw." + +"Well, Mrs. Thorne is a woman who values accomplishments. You are +clever at some things; you speak French fairly, and then you are a good +Latin scholar" (for Allan and I studied that together); "you can lay a +solid foundation, as Uncle Geoffrey says; but Mrs. Thorne does not care +about that," continued Carrie a little bitterly; "she wants a flimsy +superstructure of accomplishments--music, and French, and drawing, as +much as I can teach a useful life-work, Esther." + +"Well, why not?" I returned, with a little spirit, for here was one of +Carrie's old arguments. "If it be the work given us to do, it must be a +useful life-work. It might be our duty to make artificial flowers for +our livelihood--hundreds of poor creatures do that--and you would not +scold them for waste of time, I suppose?" + +"Anyhow, it is not work enough for me," replied Carrie firmly, and +passing over my clever argument with a dignified silence; "it is the +drudgery of mere ornamentation that I hate. I will do my best for those +dreadful children, Esther. Are they not pitiful little overdressed +creatures? And I will try and please their mother though I have not a +thought in common with her. And when I have finished my ornamental +brick-making--told my tales of the bricks----" here she paused, and +looked at me with a heightened color. + +"And what then?" I asked, rather crossly, for there was a flaw in her +speech somewhere, and I could not find it out. + +"We shall see, my wise little sister," she said, letting go my arm with +a kind pressure. "See, here is St. Barnabas; is it not a dear old +building? Must you go back to Jack?" + +"Yes, I must," I answered, shortly. "_Laborare est orare_--to labor is +to pray, in my case, Carrie;" and with that I left her. + +But Carrie's arguments had seriously discomposed me. I longed to talk +it all out with Allan, and I do not think I ever missed him so much as +I did that day. I am afraid I was rather impatient with Jack that +morning; to be sure she was terribly awkward and inattentive; she would +put her elbows on the table, and ink her fingers, and then she had a +way of jerking her hair out of her eyes, which drove me nearly frantic. +I began to think we really must send her to school. We had done away +with the folding doors, they always creaked so, and had hung up some +curtains in their stead; through the folds I could catch glimpses of +dear mother leaning back in her chair, with Dot beside her. He was +spelling over his lesson to her, in a queer, little sing-song voice, +and they looked so cool and quiet that the contrast was quite +provoking; and there was Carrie kneeling in some dim corner, and +soothing her perturbed spirits with softly-uttered psalms and prayers. + +"Jack," I returned, for the sixth time, "I cannot have you kick the +table in that schoolboy fashion." + +Jack looked at me with roguish malice in her eyes. "You are not quite +well, Esther; you have got a pain in your temper, haven't you, now?" + +I don't know what I might have answered, for Jack was right, and I was +as cross as possible, only just at that moment Uncle Geoffrey put his +head in at the door, and stood beaming on us like an angel of +deliverance. + +"Fee-fo-fum," for he sometimes called Jack by that charming +_sobriquet_, indeed, he was always inventing names for her, "it is too +hot for work, isn't it? I think I must give you a holiday, for I want +Esther to go out with me." Uncle Geoffrey's wishes were law, and I rose +at once; but not all my secret feelings of relief could prevent me from +indulging in a parting thrust. + +"I don't think Jack deserves the holiday," I remarked, with a severe +look at the culprit; and Jack jerked her hair over her eyes this time +in some confusion. + +"Hullo, Fee-fo-fum, what have you been up to? Giving Esther trouble? +Oh, fie! fie!" + +"I only kicked the table," returned Jack, sullenly, "because I hate +lessons--that I do, Uncle Geoffrey--and I inked my fingers because I +liked it; and I put my elbows on the copy-book because Esther said I +wasn't to do it; and my hair got in my eyes; and William the Conqueror +had six wives, I know he had; and I told Esther she had a pain in her +temper, because she was as cross as two sticks; and I don't remember +any more, and I don't care," finished Jack, who could be like a mule on +occasions. + +Uncle Geoffrey laughed--he could not help it--and then he patted Jack +kindly on her rough locks. "Clever little Fee-fo-fum; so William the +Conqueror had six wives, had he? Come, this is capital; we must send +you to school, Jack, that is what we must do. Esther cannot be in two +places at once." What did he mean by that, I wonder! And then he bid me +run off and put on my hat, and not keep him waiting. + +Jack's brief sullenness soon vanished, and she followed me out of the +room to give me a penitent hug--that was so like Jack; the inky caress +was a doubtful consolation, but I liked it, somehow. + +"Where are you going, Uncle Geoff?" I asked, as we walked up the High +street, followed by Jumbles, while Jack and Smudge watched us from the +door. + +"Miss Lucas wants to see you," he returned, briefly. "Bless me, there +is Carrie, deep in conversation with Mr. Smedley. Where on earth has +the girl picked him up?" And there, true enough, was Carrie, standing +in the porch, talking eagerly to a fresh-colored, benevolent-looking +man, whom I knew by sight as the vicar of St. Barnabas. + +She must have waylaid him after service, for the other worshipers had +dropped off; we had met two or three of them in the High street. I do +not know why the sight displeased me, for of course she had a right to +speak to her clergyman. Uncle Geoffrey whistled under his breath, and +then laughed and wondered "what the little saint had to say to her +pastor;" but I did not let him go on, for I was too excited with our +errand. + +"Why does Miss Lucas want to see me?" I asked, with a little beating of +the heart. The Lucas family were the richest people in Milnthorpe. + +Mr. Lucas was the banker, and kept his carriage, and had a pretty +cottage somewhere by the seaside; they were Uncle Geoffrey's patients, +I knew, but what had that to do with poor little me? + +"Miss Lucas wants to find some one to teach her little niece," returned +Uncle Geoffrey; and then I remembered all at once that Mr. Lucas was a +widower with one little girl. He had lost his wife about a year ago, +and his sister had come to live with him and take care of his +motherless child. What a chance this would have been for Carrie! but +now it was too late. I was half afraid as we came up to the great red +brick house, it was so grand and imposing, and so was the +solemn-looking butler who opened the door and ushered us into the +drawing-room. + +As we crossed the hall some one came suddenly out on us from a dark +lobby, and paused when he saw us. "Dr. Cameron! This is your niece, I +suppose, whom my sister Ruth is expecting?" and as he shook hands with +us he looked at me a little keenly, I thought. He was younger than I +expected; it flashed across me suddenly that I had once seen his poor +wife. I was standing looking out of the window one cold winter's day, +when a carriage drove up to the door with a lady wrapped in furs. I +remember Uncle Geoffrey went out to speak to her, and what a smile came +over her face when she saw him. She was very pale, but very beautiful; +every one said so in Milnthorpe, for she had been much beloved. + +"My sister is in the drawing-room; you must excuse me if I say I am in +a great hurry," and then he passed on with a bow. I thought him very +formidable, the sort of man who would be feared as well as respected by +his dependants. He had the character of being a very reserved man, with +a great many acquaintances and few intimate friends. I had no idea at +that time that no one understood him so well as Uncle Geoffrey. + +I was decidedly nervous when I followed Uncle Geoffrey meekly into the +drawing-room. Its size and splendor did not diminish my fears, and I +little imagined then how I should get to love that room. + +It was a little low, in spite of its spaciousness, and its three long +windows opened in French fashion on to the garden. I had a glimpse of +the lawn, with a grand old cedar in the middle, before my eyes were +attracted to a lady in deep mourning, writing in a little alcove, half +curtained off from the rest of the room, and looking decidedly cozy. + +The moment she turned her face toward us at the mention of our names, +my unpleasant feelings of nervousness vanished. She was such a little +woman--slightly deformed, too--with a pale, sickly-looking face, and +large, clear eyes, that seemed to attract sympathy at once, for they +seemed to say to one, "I am only a timid, simple little creature. You +need not be afraid of me." + +I was not very tall, but I almost looked down on her as she gave me her +hand. + +"I was expecting you, Miss Cameron," she said, in such a sweet tone +that it quite won my heart. "Your uncle kindly promised to introduce us +to each other." + +And then she looked at me, not keenly and scrutinizingly, as her +brother had done, but with a kindly inquisitiveness, as though she +wanted to know all about me, and to put me at my ease as soon as +possible. I flushed a little at that, and my unfortunate sensitiveness +took alarm. If it were only Carrie, I thought, with her pretty face and +soft voice; but I was so sadly unattractive, no one would be taken with +me at first sight. Fred had once said so in my hearing, and how I had +cried over that speech! + +"Esther looks older than she is; but she is only seventeen," interposed +Uncle Geoffrey, as he saw that unlucky blush. "She is a good girl, and +very industrious, and her mother's right hand," went on the simple man. +If I only could have plucked up spirit and contradicted him, but I felt +tongue-tied. + +"She looks very reliable," returned Miss Lucas, in the kindest way. To +this day I believe she could not find any compliment compatible with +truth. I once told her so months afterward, when we were very good +friends, and she laughed and could not deny it. + +"You were frowning so, Esther," she replied, "from excess of +nervousness, I believe, that your forehead was quite lost in your hair, +and your great eyes were looking at me in such a funny, frightened way, +and the corners of your mouth all coming down, I thought you were +five-and-twenty at least, and wondered what I was to do with such a +proud, repellant-looking young woman; but when you smiled I began to +see then." + +I had not reached the smiling stage just then, and was revolving her +speech in rather a dispirited way. Reliable! I knew I was that; when +all at once she left off looking at me, and began talking to Uncle +Geoffrey. + +"And so you have finished all your Good Samaritan arrangements, Dr. +Cameron; and your poor sister-in-law and her family are really settled +in your house? You must let me know when I may call, or if I can be of +any use. Giles told me all about it, and I was so interested." + +"Is it not good of Uncle Geoffrey?" I broke in. And then it must have +been that I smiled; but I never could have passed that over in silence, +to hear strangers praise him, and not join in. + +"I think it is noble of Dr. Cameron--we both think so," she answered, +warmly; and then she turned to me again. "I can understand how anxious +you must all feel to help and lighten his burdens. When Dr. Cameron +proposed your services for my little niece--for he knows what an +invalid I am, and that systematic teaching would be impossible to me--I +was quite charmed with the notion. But now, before we talk any more +about it, supposing you and I go up to see Flurry." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +FLURRY AND FLOSSY. + + +What a funny little name! I could not help saying so to Miss Lucas as I +followed her up the old oak staircase with its beautifully carved +balustrades. + +"It is her own baby abbreviation of Florence," she returned, pausing on +the landing to take breath, for even that slight ascent seemed to weary +her. She was quite pale and panting by the time we arrived at our +destination. "It is nice to be young and strong," she observed, +wistfully. "I am not very old, it is true"--she could not have been +more than eight-and-twenty--"but I have never enjoyed good health, and +Dr. Cameron says I never can hope to do so; but what can you expect of +a crooked little creature like me?" with a smile that was quite natural +and humorous, and seemed to ask no pity. + +Miss Ruth was perfectly content with her life. I found out afterward +she evoked rare beauty out of its quiet every-day monotony, storing up +precious treasures in homely vessels. + +Life was to her full of infinite possibilities, a gradual dawning and +brightening of hopes that would meet their full fruition hereafter. +"Some people have strength to work," she said once to me, "and then +plenty of work is given to them; and some must just keep quiet and +watch others work, and give them a bright word of encouragement now and +then. I am one of those wayside loiterers," she finished, with a laugh; +but all the same every one knew how much Miss Ruth did to help others, +in spite of her failing strength. + +The schoolroom, or nursery, as I believe it was called, was a large +pleasant room just over the drawing-room, and commanding the same view +of the garden and cedar-tree. It had three windows, only they were +rather high up, and had cushioned window-seats. In one of them there +was a little girl curled up in company with a large brown and white +spaniel. + +"Well, Flurry, what mischief are you and Flossy concocting?" asked Miss +Lucas, in a playful voice, for the child was too busily engaged to +notice our entrance. + +"Why, it is my little auntie," exclaimed Flurry, joyously, and she +scrambled down, while Flossy wagged his tail and barked. Evidently Miss +Ruth was not a frequent visitor to the nursery. + +Flurry was about six, not a pretty child by any means, though there +might be a promise of future beauty in her face. She was a thin, +serious-looking little creature, more like the father than the mother, +and no one could call Mr. Lucas handsome. Her dark eyes--nearly black +they were--matched oddly, in my opinion, with her long fair hair; such +pretty fluffy hair it was, falling over her black frock. When her aunt +bade her come and speak to the lady who was kind enough to promise to +teach her, she stood for a moment regarding me gravely with childish +inquisitiveness before she gave me her hand. + +"What are you going to teach me?" she asked. "I don't think I want to +be taught, auntie; I can read, I have been reading to Flossy, and I can +write, and hem father's handkerchiefs. Ask nursie." + +"But you would like to play to dear father, and to learn all sorts of +pretty hymns to say to him, would you not, my darling! There are many +things you will have to know before you are a woman." + +"I don't mean to be a woman ever, I think," observed Flurry; "I like +being a child better. Nursie is a woman, and nursie won't play; she +says she is old and stupid." + +A happy inspiration came to me. "If you are good and learn your +lessons, I will play with you," I said, rather timidly; "that is, if +you care for a grown-up playfellow." + +I was only seventeen, in spite of my _pronounce_ features, and I could +still enter into the delights of a good drawn battle of battledore and +shuttlecock. Perhaps it was the repressed enthusiasm of my tone, for I +really meant what I said; but Flurry's brief coldness vanished, and she +caught at my hand at once. + +"Come and see them," she said; "I did not know you liked dolls, but you +shall have one of your own if you like;" and she led me to a corner of +the nursery where a quantity of dolls in odd costumes and wonderfully +constrained attitudes were arranged round an inverted basket. + +"Joseph and his brethren," whispered Flurry. "I am going to put him in +the pit directly, only I wondered what I should do for the camels--this +is Issachar, and this Gad. Look at Gad's turban." + +It was almost impossible to retain my gravity. I could see Miss Lucas +smiling in the window seat. Joseph and his brethren--what a droll idea +for a child! But I did not know then that Flurry's dolls had to sustain +a variety of bewildering parts. When I next saw them the smart turbans +were all taken off the flaxen heads, a few dejected sawdust bodies hung +limply round a miller's cart. "Ancient Britons," whispered Flurry. +"Nurse would not let me paint them blue, but they did not wear clothes +then, you know." In fact, our history lesson was generally followed by +a series of touching _tableaux vivants_, the dolls sustaining their +parts in several moving scenes of "Alfred and the Cakes," "Hubert and +Arthur," and once "the Battle of Cressy." + +Flurry and I parted the best of friends; and when we joined Uncle +Geoffrey in the drawing-room I was quite ready to enter on my duties at +once. + +Miss Lucas stipulated for my services from ten till five; a few simple +lessons in the morning were to be followed by a walk, I was to lunch +with them, and in the afternoon I was to amuse Flurry or teach her a +little--just as I liked. + +"The fact is," observed Miss Lucas, as I looked a little surprised at +this programme, "Nurse is a worthy woman, and we are all very much +attached to her; but she is very ignorant, and my brother will not have +Flurry thrown too much on her companionship. He wishes me to find some +one who will take the sole charge of the child through the day; in the +evening she always comes down to her father and sits with him until her +bedtime." And then she named what seemed to me a surprisingly large sum +for services. What! all that for playing with Flurry, and giving her a +few baby lessons; poor Carrie could not have more for teaching the +little Thornes. But when I hinted this to Uncle Geoffrey, he said +quietly that they were rich people and could well afford it. + +"Don't rate yourself so low, little woman," he added, good-humoredly; +"you are giving plenty of time and interest, and surely that is worth +something." And then he went on to say that Jack must go to school, he +knew a very good one just by; some ladies who were patients of his +would take her at easy terms, he knew. He would call that very +afternoon and speak to Miss Martin. + +Poor mother shed a few tears when I told her our plans. It was sad for +her to see her girls reduced to work for themselves; but she cheered up +after a little while, and begged me not to think her ungrateful and +foolish. "For we have so many blessings, Esther," she went on, in her +patient way. "We are all together, except poor Fred, and but for your +uncle's goodness we might have been separated." + +"And we shall have such nice cozy evenings," I returned, "when the +day's work is over. I shall feel like a day laborer, mother, bringing +home my wages in my pocket. I shall be thinking of you and Dot all day, +and longing to get back to you." + +But though I spoke and felt so cheerfully, I knew that the evenings +would not be idle. There would be mending to do and linen to make, for +we could not afford to buy our things ready-made; but, with mother's +clever fingers and Carrie's help, I thought we should do very well. I +must utilize every spare minute, I thought. I must get up early and +help Deborah, so that things might go on smoothly for the rest of the +day. There was Dot to dress, and mother was ailing, and had her +breakfast in bed--there would be a hundred little things to set right +before I started off for the Cedars, as Mr. Lucas' house was called. + +"Never mind, it is better to wear out than to rust out," I said to +myself. And then I picked up Jack's gloves from the floor, hung up her +hat in its place, and tried to efface the marks of her muddy boots from +the carpet (I cannot deny Jack was a thorn in my side just now), and +then there came a tap at my door, and Carrie came in. + +She looked so pretty and bright, that I could not help admiring her +afresh. I am sure people must have called her beautiful. + +"How happy you look, Carrie, in spite of your three little Thornes," I +said rather mischievously. "Has mother told you about Miss Lucas?" + +"Yes, I heard all about that," she returned, absently. "You are very +fortunate, Esther, to find work in which you can take an interest. I am +glad--very glad about that." + +"I wish, for your sake, that we could exchange," I returned, feeling +myself very generous in intention, but all the same delighted that my +unselfishness should not be put to the proof. + +"Oh, no, I have no wish of that sort," she replied, hastily; "I could +not quite bring myself to play with children in the nursery." I suppose +mother had told her about the dolls. "Well, we both start on our +separate treadmill on Monday--Black Monday, eh, Esther?" + +"Not at all," I retorted, for I was far too pleased and excited with my +prospects to be damped by Carrie's want of enthusiasm. I thought I +would sit down and write to Jessie, and tell her all about it, but here +was Carrie preparing herself for one of her chats. + +"Did you see me talking to Mr. Smedley, Esther?" she began; and as I +nodded she went on. "I had never spoken to him before since Uncle +Geoffrey introduced us to him. He is such a nice, practical sort of +man. He took me into the vicarage, and introduced me to his wife. She +is very plain and homely, but so sensible." + +I held my peace. I had rather a terror of Mrs. Smedley. She was one of +those bustling workers whom one dreads by instinct. She had a habit of +pouncing upon people, especially young ones, and driving them to work. +Before many days were over she had made poor mother promise to do some +cutting out for the clothing club, as though mother had not work enough +for us all at home. I thought it very inconsiderate of Mrs. Smedley. + +"I took to them at once," went on Carrie, "and indeed they were +exceedingly kind. Mr. Smedley seemed to understand everything in a +moment, how I wanted work, and----" + +"But, Carrie," I demanded, aghast at this, "you have work: you have the +little Thornes." + +"Oh, don't drag them in at every word," she answered, pettishly--at +least pettishly for her; "of course, I have my brick-making, and so +have you. I am thinking of other things now, Esther; I have promised +Mr. Smedley to be one of his district visitors." + +I almost jumped off my chair at that, I was so startled and so +indignant. + +"Oh, Carrie! and when you know mother does not approve of girls of our +age undertaking such work--she has said so over and over again--how can +you go against her wishes?" + +Carrie looked at me mildly, but she was not in the least discomposed at +my words. + +"Listen to me, you silly child," she said, good-humoredly; "this is one +of mother's fancies; you cannot expect me with my settled views to +agree with her in this." + +I don't know what Carrie meant by her views, unless they consisted in a +determination to make herself and every one else uncomfortable by an +overstrained sense of duty. + +"Middle-aged people are timid sometimes. Mother has never visited the +poor herself, so she does not see the necessity for my doing it; but I +am of a different opinion," continued Carrie, with a mild obstinacy +that astonished me too much for any reply. + +"When mother cried about it just now, and begged me to let her speak to +Mr. Smedley, I told her that I was old enough to judge for myself, and +that I thought one's conscience ought not to be slavishly bound even to +one's parent. I was trying to do my duty to her and to every one, but I +must not neglect the higher part of my vocation." + +"Oh, Carrie, how could you? You will make her so unhappy." + +"No; she only cried a good deal, and begged me to be prudent and not +overtax my strength; and then she talked about you, and hoped I should +help you as much as possible, as though I meant to shirk any part of my +duty. I do not think she really disapproved, only she seemed nervous +and timid about it; but I ask you, Esther, how I could help offering my +services, when Mrs. Smedley told me about the neglected state of the +parish, and how few ladies came forward to help?" + +"But how will you find time?" I remonstrated; though what was the good +of remonstrating when Carrie had once made up her mind? + +"I have the whole of Saturday afternoon, and an hour on Wednesday, and +now the evenings are light I might utilize them a little. I am to have +Nightingale lane and the whole of Rowley street, so one afternoon in +the week will scarcely be sufficient." + +"Oh, Carrie," I groaned; but, actually, though the mending lay on my +mind like a waking nightmare, I could not expostulate with her. I only +looked at her in a dim, hopeless way and shook my head; if these were +her views I must differ from them entirely. Not that I did not wish +good--heavenly good--to the poor, but that I felt home duties would +have to be left undone; and after all that uncle had done for us! + +"And then I promised Mrs. Smedley that I would help in the +Sunday-school," she continued, cheerfully. "She was so pleased, and +kissed me quite gratefully. She says she and Mr. Smedley have had such +up-hill work since they came to Milnthorpe--and there is so much +lukewarmness and worldliness in the place. Even Miss Lucas, in spite of +her goodness--and she owned she was very good, Esther--will not take +their advice about things." + +"I told her," she went on, hesitating, "that I would speak to you, and +ask you to take a Sunday class in the infant school. You are so fond of +children, I thought you would be sure to consent." + +"So I would, and gladly too, if you would take my place at home," I +returned, quickly; "but if you do so much yourself, you will prevent me +from doing anything. Why not let me take the Sunday school class, while +you stop with mother and Dot?" + +"What nonsense!" she replied, flushing a little, for my proposition did +not please her; "that is so like you, Esther, to raise obstacles for +nothing. Why cannot we both teach; surely you can give one afternoon a +week to God's work?" + +"I hope I am giving not one afternoon, but every afternoon to it," I +returned, and the tears rushed to my eyes, for her speech wounded me. +"Oh, Carrie, why will you not understand that I think that all work +that is given us to do is God's work? It is just as right for me to +play with Flurry as it is to teach in the Sunday school." + +"You can do both if you choose," she answered, coolly. + +"Not unless you take my place," I returned, decidedly, for I had the +Cameron spirit, and would not yield my point; "for in that case Dot +would lose his Sunday lessons, and Jack would be listless and fret +mother." + +"Very well," was Carrie's response; but I could see she was displeased +with my plain speaking; and I went downstairs very tired and +dispirited, to find mother had cried herself into a bad headache. + +"If I could only talk to your dear father about it," she whispered, +when she had opened her heart to me on the subject of Carrie. "I am +old-fashioned, as Carrie says, and it is still my creed that parents +know best for their children; but she thinks differently, and she is so +good that, perhaps, one ought to leave her to judge for herself. If I +could only know what your father would say," she went on, plaintively. + +I could give her no comfort, for I was only a girl myself, and my +opinions were still immature and unfledged, and then I never had been +as good as Carrie. But what I said seemed to console mother a little, +for she drew down my face and kissed it. + +"Always my good, sensible Esther," she said, and then Uncle Geoffrey +came in and prescribed for the headache, and the subject dropped. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +THE CEDARS. + + +I was almost ashamed of myself for being so happy, and yet it was a +sober kind of happiness too. I did not forget my father, and I missed +Allan with an intensity that surprised myself; but, in spite of hard +work and the few daily vexations that hamper every one's lot, I +continued to extract a great deal of enjoyment out of my life. To sum +it up with a word, it was life--not mere existence--a life brimming +over with duties and responsibilities and untried work, too busy for +vacuum. Every corner and interstice of time filled up--heart, and head, +and hands always fully employed; and youth and health, those two grand +gifts of God, making all such work a delight. + +Now I am older, and the sap of life does not run so freely in my veins, +I almost marvel at the remembrance of those days, at my youthful +exuberance and energy, and those words, "As thy day, so shall thy +strength be," come to me with a strange force and illumination, for +truly I needed it all then, and it was given to me. Time was a treasure +trove, and I husbanded every minute with a miser's zeal. I had always +been an early riser, and now I reaped the benefit of this habit. Jack +used to murmur discontentedly in her sleep when I set the window open +soon after six, and the fresh summer air fanned her hot face. But how +cool and dewy the garden looked at that hour! + +It was so bright and still, with the thrushes and blackbirds hopping +over the wet lawn, and the leaves looking so fresh and green in the +morning sun; such twitterings and chirpings came from the lilac trees, +where the little brown sparrows twittered and plumed themselves. The +bird music used to chime in in a sort of refrain to my morning +prayers--a diminutive chorus of praise--the choral before the day's +service commenced. + +I always gave Jack a word of warning before I left the room (the +reprimand used to find her in the middle of a dream), and then I went +to Dot. I used to help him to dress and hear him repeat his prayers, +and talk cheerfully to him when he was languid and fretful, and the +small duties of life were too heavy for his feeble energies. Dot always +took a large portion of my time; his movements were slow and full of +tiny perversities; he liked to stand and philosophize in an infantile +way when I wanted to be downstairs helping Deborah. Dot's fidgets, as I +called them, were part of the day's work. + +When he was ready to hobble downstairs with his crutch, I used to fly +back to Jack, and put a few finishing touches to her toilet, for I knew +by experience that she would make her appearance downstairs with a +crooked parting and a collar awry, and be grievously plaintive when +Carrie found fault with her. Talking never mended matters; Jack was at +the hoiden age, and had to grow into tidiness and womanhood by-and-by. + +After that I helped Deborah, and took up mother's breakfast. I always +found her lying with her face to the window, and her open Bible beside +her. Carrie had always been in before me and arranged the room. Mother +slept badly, and at that early hour her face had a white, pining look, +as though she had lost her way in the night, or waked to miss +something. She used to turn with a sweet troubled smile to me as I +entered. + +"Here comes my busy little woman," she would say, with a pretense at +cheerfulness, and then she would ask after Dot. She never spoke much of +her sadness to us; with an unselfishness that was most rare she refused +to dim our young cheerfulness by holding an unhealed grief too plainly +before our eyes. Dear mother, I realize now what that silence must have +cost her! + +When breakfast was over, and Uncle Geoffrey busily engrossed with his +paper, I used to steal into the kitchen and have a long confab with +Deborah, and then Jack and I made our bed and dusted our room to save +Martha, and by that time I was ready to start to the Cedars; but not +until I had convoyed Jack to Miss Martin's, and left her and her books +safely at the door. + +Dot used to kiss me rather wistfully when I left him with his +lesson-books and paint-box, waiting for mother to come down and keep +him company. Poor little fellow, he had rather a dull life of it, for +even Jumbles refused to stay with him, and Smudge was out in the +garden, lazily watching the sparrows. Poor little lonely boy, deprived +of the usual pleasures of boyhood, and looking out on our busy lives +from a sort of sad twilight of pain and weakness, but keeping such a +brave heart and silent tongue over it all. + +How I enjoyed my little walk up High street and across the wide, +sunshiny square! When I reached the Cedars, and the butler admitted me, +I used to run up the old oak staircase and tap at the nursery door. + +Nurse used to courtesy and withdraw; Flurry and I had it all to +ourselves. I never saw Miss Lucas until luncheon-time; she was more of +an invalid than I knew at that time, and rarely left her room before +noon. Flurry and I soon grew intimate; after a few days were over we +were the best of friends. She was a clever child and fond of her +lessons, but she was full of droll fancies. She always insisted on her +dolls joining our studies. It used to be a little embarrassing to me at +first to see myself surrounded by the vacant waxen faces staring at us, +with every variety of smirk and bland fatuous expression: the flaxen +heads nid-nodded over open lesson-books, propped up in limp, leathery +arms. When Flossy grew impatient for a game of play, he would drag two +or three of them down with a vicious snap and a stroke of his feathery +paws. Flurry would shake her head at him disapprovingly, as she picked +them up and shook out their smart frocks. The best behaved of the dolls +always accompanied us in our walk before luncheon. + +I used to think of Carrie's words, sometimes, as I played with Flurry +in the afternoon; she would not hear of lessons then. Sometimes I would +coax her to sew a little, or draw; and she always had her half hour at +the piano, but during the rest of the afternoon I am afraid there was +nothing but play. + +How I wish Dot could have joined us sometimes as we built our famous +brick castles, or worked in Flurry's little garden, where she grew all +sorts of wonderful things. When I was tired or lazy I used to bring out +my needle-work to the seat under the cedar, and tell Flurry stories, or +talk to her as she dressed her dolls; she was very good and tractable, +and never teased me to play when I was disinclined. + +I told her about Dot very soon, and she gave me no peace after that +until I took her to see him; there was quite a childish friendship +between them soon. Flurry used to send him little gifts, which she +purchased with her pocket-money--pictures, and knives, and pencils. I +often begged Miss Lucas to put a stop to it, but she only laughed and +praised Flurry, and put by choice little portions of fruit and other +dainties for Flurry's boy friend. + +Flurry prattled a great deal about her father, but I never saw him. He +had his luncheon at the bank. Once when we were playing battledore and +shuttle-cock in the hall--for Miss Lucas liked to hear us all over the +house; she said it made her feel cheerful--I heard a door open +overhead, and caught a glimpse of a dark face watching us; but I +thought it was Morgan the butler, until Flurry called out joyfully, +"Father! Father!" and then it disappeared. Now and then I met him in +the square, and he always knew me and took off his hat; but I did not +exchange a word with him for months. + +Flurry loved him, and seemed deep in his confidence. She always put on +her best frock and little pearl necklace to go down and sit with her +father, while he ate his dinner. She generally followed him into his +study, and chatted to him, until nurse fetched her at bed-time. When +she had asked me some puzzling question that it was impossible to +answer, she would refer it to her father with implicit faith. She would +make me rather uncomfortable at times respecting little speeches of his. + +"Father can't understand why you are so fond of play," she said once to +me; "he says so few grown-up girls deign to amuse themselves with a +game: but you do like it, don't you, Miss Cameron?" making up a very +coaxing face. Of course I confessed to a great fondness for games, but +all the same I wished Mr. Lucas had not said that. Perhaps he thought +me too hoidenish for his child's governess, and for a whole week after +that I refused to play with Flurry, until she began to mope, and my +heart misgave me. We played at hide and seek that day all over the +house--Flurry and Flossy and I. + +Then another time, covering me with dire confusion, "Father thinks that +such a pretty story, Miss Cameron, the one about Gretchen. He said I +ought to try and remember it, and write it down; and then he asked if +you had really made it up in your head." + +"Oh, Flurry, that silly little story?" + +"Not silly at all," retorted Flurry, with a little heat; "father had a +headache, and he could not talk to me, so I told him stories to send +him to sleep, and I thought he would like dear little Gretchen. He +never went to sleep after all, but his eyes were wide open, staring at +the fire; and then he told me he had been thinking of dear mamma, and +he thought I should be very like her some day. And then he thanked me +for my pretty stories, and then tiresome old nursie fetched me to bed." + +That stupid little tale! To think of Mr. Lucas listening to that. I was +not a very inventive storyteller, though I could warm into eloquence on +occasions, but Flurry's demand was so excessive that I hit on a capital +plan at last. + +I created a wonderful child heroine, and called her Juliet and told a +little fresh piece of her history every day. Never was there such a +child for impossible adventures and hairbreadth escapes; what that +unfortunate little creature went through was known only to Flurry and +me. + +She grew to love Juliet like a make-believe sister of her own, and +talked of her at last as a living child. What long moral conversations +took place between Juliet and her mother, what admirable remarks did +that excellent mother make, referring to sundry small sins of omission +and commission on Juliet's part! When I saw Flurry wince and turn red I +knew the remarks had struck home. + +It was astonishing how Juliet's behavior varied with Flurry's. If +Flurry were inattentive, Juliet was listless; if her history lessons +were ill-learned, Juliet's mamma had always a great deal to say about +the battle of Agincourt or any other event that it was necessary to +impress on her memory. I am afraid Flurry at last took a great dislike +to that well-meaning lady, and begged to hear more about Juliet's +little brother and sister. When I came to a very uninteresting part she +would propose a game of ball or a scamper with Flossy; but all the same +next day we would be back at it again. + +The luncheon hour was very pleasant to me. I grew to like Miss Lucas +excessively; she talked so pleasantly and seemed so interested in all I +had to tell her about myself and Flurry; a quiet atmosphere of +refinement surrounded her--a certain fitness and harmony of thought. +Sometimes she would invite us into the drawing-room after luncheon, +saying she felt lonely and would be glad of our society for a little. I +used to enjoy those half-hours, though I am afraid Flurry found them a +little wearisome. Our talk went over her head, and she would listen to +it with a droll, half-bored expression, and take refuge at last with +Flossy. + +Sometimes, but not often, Miss Lucas would take us to drive with her. I +think, until she knew me well, that she liked better to be alone with +her own thoughts. As our knowledge of each other grew, I was struck +with the flower-like unfolding of her ideas; they would bud and break +forth into all manner of quaint fancies--their freshness and +originality used to charm me. + +I think there is no interest in life compared to knowing +people--finding them out, their tastes, character, and so forth. I had +an inquisitive delight, I called it thirst, for human knowledge, in +drawing out a stranger; no traveler exploring unknown tracts of country +ever pursued his researches with greater zeal and interest. Reserve +only attracts me. + +Impulsive people, who let out their feelings the first moment, do not +interest me half so much as silent folk. I like to sit down before an +enclosed citadel and besiege it; with such ramparts of defense there +must be precious store in the heart of the city, some hidden jewels, +perhaps; at least, so I argue with myself. + +But, happy as I was with Miss Lucas and Flurry, five o'clock no sooner +struck than I was flying down the oak staircase, with Flurry peeping at +me between the balustrades, and waving a mite of a hand in token of +adieu; for was I not going home to mother and Dot? Oh, the dear, bright +home scene that always awaited me! I wonder if Carrie loved it as I +did! The homely, sunny little parlors; the cozy tea table, over which +old Martha would be hovering with careful face and hands; mother in her +low chair by the garden window; Uncle Geoffrey with his books and +papers at the little round table; Dot and Jack hidden in some corner, +out of which Dot would come stumping on his poor little crutches to +kiss me, and ask after his little friend Flurry. + +"Here comes our Dame Bustle," Uncle Geoffrey would say. It was his +favorite name for me, and mother would look up and greet me with the +same loving smile that was never wanting on her dear face. + +On the stairs I generally came upon Carrie, coming down from her little +room. + +"How are the little Thornes?" I would ask her, cheerfully; but +by-and-by I left off asking her about them. At first she used to shrug +her shoulders and shake her head in a sort of disconsolate fashion, or +answered indifferently: "Oh, much as usual, thank you." But once she +returned, quite pettishly: + +"Why do you ask after those odious children, Esther? Why cannot you let +me forget them for a few hours? If we are brickmakers, we need not +always be telling the tales of our bricks." She finished with a sort of +weary tone in her tired voice, and after that I let the little Thornes +alone. + +What happy evenings those were! Not that we were idle, though--"the +saints forbid," as old Biddy used to say. When tea was over, mother and +I betook ourselves to the huge mending basket; sometimes Carrie joined +us, when she was not engaged in district work, and then her clever +fingers made the work light for us. + +Then there were Jack's lessons to superintend, and sometimes I had to +help Dot with his drawing, or copy out papers for Uncle Geoffrey: then +by-and-by Dot had to be taken upstairs, and there were little things to +do for mother when Carrie was too tired or busy to do them. Mother was +Carrie's charge. As Dot and Jack were mine, it was a fair division of +labor, only somehow Carrie had always so much to do. + +Mother used to fret sometimes about it, and complain that Carrie sat up +too late burning the midnight oil in her little room; but I never could +find out what kept her up. I was much happier about Carrie now--she +seemed brighter and in better spirits. If she loathed her daily +drudgery, she said little about it, and complained less. All her +interests were reserved for Nightingale lane and Rowley street. The +hours spent in those unsavory neighborhoods were literally her times of +refreshment. Her poor people were very close to her heart, and often +she told us about them as we sat working together in the evening, until +mother grew quite interested, and used to ask after them by name, which +pleased Carrie, and made a bond of sympathy between them. At such times +I somehow felt a little sad, though I would not have owned it for +worlds, for it seemed to me as though my work were so trivial compared +to Carrie's--as though I were a poor little Martha, "careful and +troubled about many things" about, Deborah's crossness and Jack's +reckless ways, occupied with small minor duties--dressing Dot, and +tidying Jack's and Uncle Geoffrey's drawers; while Carrie was doing +angel's work; reclaiming drunken women, and teaching miserable degraded +children, and then coming home and playing sweet sacred fragments of +Handel to soothe mother's worn spirits, or singing her the hymns she +loved. Alas! I could not sing except in church, and my playing was a +poor affair compared to Carrie's. + +I felt it most on Sundays, when Carrie used to go off to the Sunday +school morning and afternoon, and left me to the somewhat monotonous +task of hearing Jack her catechism and giving Dot his Scripture lesson. +Sunday was always a trial to Dot. He was not strong enough to go to +church--the service would have wearied him too much--his few lessons +were soon done, and then time used to hang heavily on his hands. + +At last the grand idea came to me to set him to copy Scripture maps, +and draw small illustrations of any Biblical scene that occurred in the +lesson of the day. I have a book full of his childish fancies now, all +elaborately colored on week-days--"Joseph and his Brethren" in gaudy +turbans, and wonderfully inexpressive countenances, reminding me of +Flurry's dolls; the queen of Sheba, coming before Solomon, in a +marvelous green tiara and yellow garments; a headless Goliath, +expressed with a painful degree of detail, more fit for the Wirtz +Gallery than a child's scrap-book. + +Dot used frequently to write letters to Allan, to which I often added +copious postscripts. I never could coax Dot to write to Fred, though +Fred sent him plenty of kind messages, and many a choice little parcel +of scraps and odds and ends, such as Dot liked. + +Fred was getting on tolerably, he always told us. He had rooms in St. +John's Wood, which he shared with two other artists; he was working +hard, and had some copying orders. Allan saw little of him; they had no +friends in common, and no community of taste. Never were brothers less +alike or with less sympathy. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +"I WISH I HAD A DOT OF MY OWN." + + +Months passed over, and found us the same busy, tranquil little +household. I used to wonder how my letters could interest Allan so much +as he said they did; I could find so little to narrate. And, talking of +that, it strikes me that we are not sufficiently thankful for the +monotony of life. I speak advisedly; I mean for the quiet uniformity +and routine of our daily existence. In our youth we quarrel a little +with its sameness and regularity; it is only when the storms of sudden +crises and unlooked-for troubles break over our thankful heads that we +look back with regret to those still days of old. + +Nothing seemed to happen, nothing looked different. Mother grew a +little stronger as the summer passed, and took a few more household +duties on herself. Dot pined and pinched as the cold weather came on, +as he always did, and looked a shivering, shabby Dot sometimes. Jack's +legs grew longer, and her frocks shorter, and we had to tie her hair to +keep it out of her eyes, and she stooped more, and grew +round-shouldered, which added to her list of beauties; but no one +expected grace from Jack. + +At the Cedars things went on as usual, that Flurry left off calling me +Miss Cameron, and took to Esther instead, somewhat scandalizing Miss +Lucas, until she began taking to it herself. "For you are so young, and +you are more Flurry's playfellow than her governess," she said +apologetically; "it is no good being stiff when we are such old +friends." And after that I always called her Miss Ruth. + +"Don't you want see to Roseberry, Esther?" asked Flurry, one day--that +was the name of the little seaside place where Mr. Lucas had a cottage. +"Aunt Ruth says you must come down with us next summer; she declares +she has quite set her heart on it." + +"Oh, Flurry, that would be delightful!--but how could I leave mother +and Dot?" I added in a regretful parenthesis. That was always the +burden of my song--Mother and Dot. + +"Dot must come, too," pronounced Flurry, decidedly; and she actually +proposed to Miss Ruth at luncheon that "Esther's little brother should +be invited to Roseberry." Miss Ruth looked at me with kindly amused +eyes, as I grew crimson and tried to hush Flurry. + +"We shall see," she returned, in her gentle voice; "if Esther will not +go without Dot, Dot must come too." But though the bare idea was too +delightful, I begged Miss Ruth not to entertain such an idea for a +moment. + +I think Flurry's little speech put a kind thought into Miss Ruth's +head, for when she next invited us to drive with her, the gray horses +stopped for an instant at Uncle Geoffrey's door, and the footman lifted +Dot in his little fur-lined coat, and placed him at Miss Ruth's side. +And seeing the little lad's rapture, and Flurry's childish delight, she +often called for him, sometimes when she was alone, for she said Dot +never troubled her; he could be as quiet as a little mouse when her +head ached and she was disinclined to talk. + +I said nothing happened; but one day I had a pleasant surprise, just +when I did not deserve it; for it was one of my fractious days--days of +moods and tenses I used to called them--when nothing seemed quite +right, when I was beset by that sort of grown-up fractiousness that +wants to be petted and put to bed, and bidden to lie still like a tired +child. + +Winter had set in in downright earnest, and in those cold dark mornings +early rising seemed an affront to the understanding, and a snare to be +avoided by all right-minded persons; yet notwithstanding all that, a +perverse, fidgety notion of duty drove me with a scourge of mental +thorns from my warm bed. For I was young and healthy, and why should I +lie there while Deborah and Martha broke the ice in their pitchers, and +came downstairs with rasped red faces and acidulated tempers? I was +thankful not to do likewise, to know I should hear in a few minutes a +surly tap at the door, with the little hot-water can put down with +protesting evidence. Even then it was hard work to flesh and blood, +with no dewy lawn, no bird music now to swell my morning's devotion +with tiny chorus of praise; only a hard frozen up world, with a trickle +of meager sunshine running through it. + +But my hardest work was with Dot; he used to argue drowsily with me +while I stood shivering and awaiting his pleasure. Why did I not go +down to the fire if I were cold? He was not going to get up in the +middle of the night to please any one; never mind the robins--of which +I reminded him gently--he wished he were a robin too, and could get up +and go to bed with a neat little feather bed tacked to his skin--nice, +cosy little fellows; and then he would draw the bedclothes round his +thin little shoulders, and try to maintain his position. + +He quite whimpered on the morning in question, when I lifted him out +bodily--such a miserable Dot, looking like a starved dove in his white +plumage; but he cheered up at the sight of the fire and hot coffee in +the snug parlor, and whispered a little entreaty for forgiveness as I +stooped over him to make him comfortable. + +"You are tired, Esther," said my mother tenderly, when she saw my face +that morning; "you must not get up so early this cold weather, my +dear." But I held my peace, for who would dress Dot, and what would +become of Jack? And then came a little lump in my throat, for I was +tired and fractious. + +When I got to the Cedars a solemn stillness reigned in the nursery, and +instead of an orderly room a perfect chaos of doll revelry prevailed. +All the chairs were turned into extempore beds, and the twelve dolls, +with bandaged heads and arms, were tucked up with the greatest care. + +Flurry met me with an air of great importance and her finger on her lip. + +"Hush, Esther, you must not make a noise. I am Florence Nightingale, +and these are all the poor sick and wounded soldiers; look at this one, +this is Corporal Trim, and he has had his two legs shot off." + +I recognized Corporal Trim under his bandages; he was the very doll +Flossy had so grievously maltreated and had robbed of an eye; the waxen +tip of his nose was gone, and a great deal of his flaxen wig +besides--quite a caricature of a mutilated veteran. + +I called Flurry to account a little sternly, and insisted on her +restoring order to the room. Flurry pouted and sulked; her heart was at +Scutari, and her wits went wool-gathering, and refused dates and the +multiplication table. To make matters worse, it commenced snowing, and +there was no prospect of a walk before luncheon. Miss Ruth did not come +down to that meal, and afterward I sat and knitted in grim silence. +Discipline must be maintained, and as Flurry would not work, neither +would I play with her; but I do not know which of us was punished the +most. + +"Oh, how cross you are, Esther, and it is Christmas eve!" cried Flurry +at last, on the verge of crying. It was growing dusk, and already +shadows lurked in the corner of the room, Flurry looked at me so +wistfully that I am afraid I should have relented and gone on a little +with Juliet, only at that moment she sprang up joyfully at the sound of +her aunt's voice calling her, and ran out to the top of the dark +staircase. + +"We are to go down, you and I; Aunt Ruth wants us," she exclaimed, +laying violent hands on my work. I felt rather surprised at the +summons, for Miss Ruth never called us at this hour, and it would soon +be time for me to go home. + +The drawing-room looked the picture of warm comfort as we entered it; +some glorious pine logs were crackling and spluttering in the grate, +sending out showers of colored sparks. + +Miss Ruth was half-buried in her easy-chair, with her feet on the white +fleecy rug, and the little square tea-table stood near her, with its +silver kettle and the tiny blue teacups. + +"You have sent for us, Miss Ruth," I said, as I crossed the room to +her; but at that instant another figure I had not seen started up from +a dark corner, and caught hold of me in rough, boyish fashion. + +"Allan! oh Allan! Allan!" my voice rising into a perfect crescendo of +ecstasy at the sight of his dear dark face. Could anything be more +deliciously unexpected? And there was Miss Ruth laughing very softly to +herself at my pleasure. + +"Oh, Allan, what does this mean," I demanded, "when you told us there +was no chance of your spending Christmas with us? Have you been home? +Have you seen mother and Dot? Have you come here to fetch me home?" + +Allan held up his hands as he took a seat near me. + +"One question at a time, Esther. I had unexpected leave of absence for +a week, and that is why you see me; and as I wanted to surprise you +all, I said nothing about it. I arrived about three hours ago, and as +mother thought I might come and fetch you, why I thought I would, and +that you would be pleased to see me; that is all my story," finished +Allan, exchanging an amused glance with Miss Ruth. They had never met +before, and yet they seemed already on excellent terms. All an made no +sort of demur when Miss Ruth insisted that we should both have some tea +to warm us before we went. I think he felt at home with her at once. + +Flurry seemed astonished at our proceeding. She regarded Allan for a +long time very solemnly, until he won her heart by admiring Flossy; +then she condescended to converse with him. + +"Are you Esther's brother, really?" + +"Yes, Miss Florence--I believe that is your name." + +"Florence Emmeline Lucas," she repeated glibly. "I'm Flurry for short; +nobody calls me Florence except father sometimes. It was dear mamma's +name, and he always sighs when he says it." + +"Indeed," returned Allan in an embarrassed tone; and then he took +Flossy on his knee and began to play with him. + +"Esther is rich," went on Flurry, rather sadly. "She has three +brothers; there's Fred, and you, and Dot. I think she likes Dot best, +and so do I. What a pity I haven't a Dot of my own! No brothers; only +father and Aunt Ruth." + +"Poor little dear," observed Allan compassionately--he was always fond +of children. His hearty tone made Flurry look up in his face. "He is a +nice man," she said to me afterward; "he likes Flossy and me, and he +was pleased when I kissed him." + +I did not tell Flurry that Allan had been very much astonished at her +friendship. + +"That is a droll little creature," he said, as we left the house +together; "but there is something very attractive about her. You have a +nice berth there, Esther. Miss Lucas seems a delightful person," an +opinion in which I heartily agreed. Then he asked me about Mr. Lucas; +but I had only Flurry's opinion to offer him on that subject, and he +questioned me in his old way about my daily duties. "Mother thinks you +are overworked, and you are certainly looking a little thin, Esther. +Does not Carrie help you enough? And what is this I have just heard +about the night school?" + +Our last grievance, which I had hitherto kept from Allan; but of course +mother had told him. It was so nice to be walking there by his side, +with the crisp white snow beneath our feet, and the dark sky over our +heads; no more fractiousness now, when I could pour out all my worries +to Allan. + +Such a long story I told him; but the gist of it was this; Carrie had +been very imprudent; she would not let well alone, or be content with a +sufficient round of duties. She worked hard with her pupils all day, +and besides that she had a district and Sunday school; and now Mrs. +Smedley had persuaded her to devote two evenings of her scanty leisure +to the night school. + +"I think it is very hard and unjust to us," I continued rather +excitedly. "We have so little of Carrie--only just the odds and ends of +time she can spare us. Mrs. Smedley has no right to dictate to us all, +and to work Carrie in the way she does. She has got an influence over +her, and she uses it for her own purposes, and Carrie is weak to yield +so entirely to her judgment; she coaxes her and flatters her, and talks +about her high standard and unselfish zeal for the work; but I can't +understand it, and I don't think it right for Carrie to be Mrs. +Smedley's parochial drudge." + +"I will talk to Carrie," returned Allan, grimly; and he would not say +another word on the subject. But I forgot all my grievances during the +happy evening that followed. + +Allan was in such spirits! As frolicsome as a boy, he would not let us +be dull, and so his talk never flagged for a moment. Dot laughed till +the tears ran down his cheeks when Allan kicked over the mending +basket, and finally ordered Martha to take it away. When Carrie +returned from the night school, she found us all gathered round the +fire in peaceful idleness, listening to Allan's stories, with Dot on +the rug, basking in the heat like a youthful salamander. + +I think Allan must have followed her up to her room, for just as I was +laying my head on the pillow there was a knock at the door, and Carrie +entered with her candle, fully dressed, and with a dark circle round +her eyes. + +She put down the light, so as not to wake Jack, and sat down by my side +with a weary sigh. + +"Why did you all set Allan to talk to me?" she began reproachfully. +"Why should I listen to him more than to you or mother? I begin to see +that a man's foes are indeed of his own household." + +I bit my lips to keep in a torrent of angry words. I was out of +patience with Carrie, even a saint ought to have common sense, I +thought, and I was so tired and sleepy, and to-morrow was Christmas Day. + +"I could not sleep until I came and told you what I thought about it," +she went on in her serious monotone. I don't think she even noticed my +exasperated silence. "It is of no use for Allan to come and preach his +wordly wisdom to me; we do not measure things by the same standard, he +and I. You are better, Esther, but your hard matter-of-fact reasoning +shocks me sometimes." + +"Oh, Carrie! why don't you create a world of your own," I demanded, +scornfully, "if we none of us please you--not even Allan?" + +"Now you are angry without cause," she returned, gently, for Carrie +rarely lost her temper in an argument; she was so meekly obstinate that +we could do nothing with her. "We cannot create our own world, Esther; +we can only do the best we can with this. When I am working so hard to +do a little good in Milnthorpe, why do you all try to hinder and drag +me back?" + +"Because you are _over_doing it, and wearing yourself out," I returned, +determined to have my say; but she stopped me with quiet peremptoriness. + +"No more of that, Esther; I have heard it all from Allan. I am not +afraid of wearing out; I hope to die in harness. Why, child, how can +you be so faint-hearted? We cannot die until our time comes." + +"But when we court death it is suicide," I answered, stubbornly; but +Carrie only gave one of her sweet little laughs. + +"You foolish Esther! who means to die, I should like to know? Why, the +child is actually crying. Listen to me, you dear goosie. I was never so +happy or well in my life." I shook my head sorrowfully, but she +persisted in her statement. "Mrs. Smedley has given me new life. How I +do love that woman! She is a perfect example to us--of unselfishness +and energy. She says I am her right hand, and I do believe she means +it, Esther." But I only groaned in answer. "She is doing a magnificent +work in Milnthrope," she continued, "and I feel so proud that I am +allowed to assist her. Do you know, I had twenty boys in my class this +evening; they would come to me, though Miss Miles' class was nearly +empty." And so she went on, until I felt all over prickles of +suppressed nervousness. "Well, good-night," she said, at last, when I +could not he roused into any semblance of interest; "we shall see which +of us be right by-and-by." + +"Yes, we shall see," I answered, drowsily; but long after she left I +muttered the words over and over to myself, "We shall see." + +Yes, by-and-by the light of Divine truth would flash over our actions, +and in that pure radiance every unworthy work would wither up to +naught--every unblessed deed retreat into outer darkness. Which would +be right, she or I? + +I know only too well that, taking the world as a whole, we ought to +_encourage_ Christian parochial work, because too many girls who +possess the golden opportunity of leisure allow it to be wasted, and so +commit the "sin of omission;" but there would have been quite as much +good done had Carrie dutifully helped in our invalid home and cheered +us all to health by her bright presence. And besides, I myself could +then perhaps have taken a class at me night school if the +stocking-mending and the other multitudinous domestic matters could +have allowed it. + +The chimes of St. Barnabas were pealing through the midnight air before +I slept. Above was the soft light of countless stars, sown broadcast +over the dark skies. Christmas was come, and the angel's song sounding +over the sleeping earth. + +"Peace and goodwill to men"--peace from weary arguments and fruitless +regret, peace on mourning hearts, on divided homes, on mariners tossing +afar on wintry seas, and peace surely on one troubled girlish heart +that waited for the breaking of a more perfect day. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +MISS RUTH'S NURSE. + + +Miss Ruth insisted on giving me a week's holiday, that I might avail +myself of Allan's society; and as dear mother still persisted that I +looked pale and in need of change, Allan gave me a course of bracing +exercise in the shape of long country walks with him and Jack, when we +plowed our way over half-frozen fields and down deep, muddy lanes, +scrambling over gates and through hedges, and returning home laden with +holly berries and bright red hips and haws. + +On Allan's last evening we were invited to dine at the Cedars--just +Uncle Geoffrey, Allan, and I. Miss Ruth wrote such a pretty letter. She +said that her brother thought it was a long time since he had seen his +old friend Dr. Cameron, and that he was anxious to make acquaintance +with his nephew and Flurry's playfellow--this was Miss Ruth's name for +me, for we had quite dropped the governess between us. + +Allan looked quite pleased, and scouted my dubious looks; he had taken +a fancy to Miss Ruth, and wanted to see her again. He laughed when I +said regretfully that it was his last evening, and that I would rather +have spent it quietly at home with him. I was shy at the notion of my +first dinner-party; Mr. Lucas' presence would make it a formal affair. + +And then mother fretted a little that I had no evening-dress ready. I +could not wear white, so all my pretty gowns were useless; but I +cheered her up by my assuring her that such things did not matter in +our deep mourning. And when I had dressed myself in my black cashmere, +with soft white ruffles and a little knot of Christmas roses and ferns +which Carrie had arranged in my dress, mother gave a relieved sigh, and +thought I should do nicely, and Allan twisted me round, and declared I +was not half so bad after all, and that, though I was no beauty, I +should pass, with which dubious compliment I was obliged to content +myself. + +"I wish you were going in my stead, Carrie," I whispered, as she +wrapped me in mother's warm fleecy shawl, for the night was piercingly +cold. + +"I would rather stay with mother," she answered quietly. And then she +kissed me, and told me to be a good child, and not to be frightened of +any one, in her gentle, elder sisterly way. It never occurred to her to +envy me my party or my pleasant position at the Cedars, or to compare +her own uncongenial work with mine. These sorts of petty jealousies and +small oppositions were impossible to her; her nature was large and +slightly raised, and took in wider vistas of life than ours. + +My heart sank a little when I heard the sharp vibrating sound of Mrs. +Smedley's voice as we were announced. I had no idea that the vicar and +his wife were to be invited, but they were the only guests beside +ourselves. I never could like Mrs. Smedley and to the very last I never +changed my girlish opinion of her. I have a curious instinctive +repugnance to people who rustle through life; whose entrances and exits +are environed with noise; who announce their intentions with the blast +of the trumpet. Mrs. Smedley was a wordy woman. She talked much and +well, but her voice was loud and jarring. She was not a bad-looking +woman. I daresay in her younger days she had been handsome, for her +features were very regular and her complexion good; but I always said +that she had worn herself thin with talking. She was terribly straight +and angular (I am afraid I called it bony); she had sharp high cheek +bones, and her hands were long and lean. On this evening she wore a +rich brown brocade, that creaked and rustled with every movement, and +some Indian bangles that jingled every time she raised her arm. I could +not help comparing her to Miss Ruth, who sat beside her, looking lovely +in a black velvet gown, and as soft and noiseless as a little mouse. I +am afraid Mrs. Smedley's clacking voice made her head ache terribly for +she grew paler and paler before the long dinner was over. As Miss Ruth +greeted me, I saw Mr. Lucas cross the room with Flurry holding his hand. + +"Flurry must introduce me to her playfellow," he said, with a kind +glance at us both, as the child ran up to me and clasped me close. + +"Oh, Esther, how I have wanted you and Juliet," she whispered; but her +father heard her. + +"I am afraid Flurry has had a dull week of it," he said, taking a seat +beside us, and lifting the little creature to his knee. How pretty +Flurry looked in her dainty white frock, all embroidery and lace, with +knots of black ribbons against her dimpled shoulders, and her hair +flowing round her like a golden veil! Such a little fairy queen she +looked! + +"Father has been telling me stories," she observed, confidently; "they +were very pretty ones, but I think I like Juliet best. And, oh! Esther, +Flossy has broken Clementina's arm--that is your favorite doll, you +know." + +"Has Miss Cameron a doll, too?" asked Mr. Lucas, and I thought he +looked a little quizzical. + +"I always call it Esther's," returned Flurry, seriously. "She is quite +fond of it, and nurses it sometimes at lessons." + +But I could bear no more. Mrs. Smedley was listening, I was sure, and +it did sound so silly and babyish, and yet I only did it to please +Flurry. + +"I am afraid you think me very childish," I stammered, for I remembered +that game of battledore and shuttlecock, and how excited I had been +when I had achieved two hundred. But as I commenced my little speech, +with burning cheeks and a lip that would quiver with nervousness, he +quietly stopped me. + +"I think nothing to your discredit, Miss Cameron. I am too grateful to +you for making my little girl's life less lonely. I feel much happier +about her now, and so does my sister." And then, as dinner was +announced, he turned away and offered his arm to Mrs. Smedley. + +Mr. Smedley took me in and sat by me, but after a few cursory +observations he left me to my own devices and talked to Miss Ruth. I +was a little disappointed at this, for I preferred him infinitely to +his wife, and I had always found his sermons very helpful; but I heard +afterward that he never liked talking to young ladies, and did not know +what to say to them. Carrie was an exception. She was too great a +favorite with them both ever to be neglected. Mr. Lucas' attention was +fully occupied by his voluble neighbor. Now and then he addressed a +word to me, that I might not feel myself slighted, but Mrs. Smedley +never seconded his efforts. + +Ever since I had refused to teach in the Sunday school she had regarded +me with much head-shaking and severity. To her I was simply a +frivolous, uninteresting young person, too headstrong to be guided. She +always spoke pityingly of "your poor sister Esther" to Carrie, as +though I were in a lamentable condition. I know she had heard of +Flurry's doll, her look was so utterly contemptuous. + +To my dismay she commenced talking to Mr. Lucas about Carrie. It was +very bad taste, I thought, with her sister sitting opposite to her; but +Carrie was Mrs. Smedley's present hobby, and she always rode her hobby +to death. No one else heard her, for they were all engaged with Miss +Ruth. + +"Such an admirable creature," she was saying, when my attention was +attracted to the conversation; "a most lovely person and mind, and yet +so truly humble. I confess I love her as though she were a daughter of +my own." Fancy being Mrs. Smedley's daughter! Happily, for their own +sakes, she had no children. "Augustus feels just the same; he thinks so +highly of her. Would you believe it, Mr. Lucas, that though she is a +daily governess like her sister," with a sharp glance at poor little +miserable me, "that that dear devoted girl takes house to house +visitation in that dreadful Nightingale lane and Rowley street?" Was it +my fancy, or did Mr. Lucas shrug his shoulders dubiously at this? As +Mrs. Smedley paused here a moment, as though she expected an answer, he +muttered, "Very praiseworthy, I am sure," in a slightly bored tone. + +"She has a class in the Sunday-school besides, and now she gives two +evenings a week to Mr. Smedley's night school. She is a pattern to all +the young ladies of the place, as I do not fail to tell them." + +Why Mr. Lucas looked at me at that moment I do not know, but something +in my face seemed to strike him, for he said, in a curious sort of +tone, that meant a great deal, if I had only understood it: + +"You do not follow in your sister's footsteps, then, Miss Cameron?" + +"No, I do not," I answered abruptly, far too abruptly, I am afraid; +"human beings cannot be like sheep jumping through a hedge--if one +jumps, they all jump, you know." + +"And you do not like that," with a little laugh, as though he were +amused. + +"No, I must be sure it is a safe gap first, and not a short cut to +nowhere," was my inexplicable response. I do not know if Mr. Lucas +understood me, for just then Miss Ruth gave the signal for the ladies +to rise. The rest of the evening was rather a tedious affair. I played +a little, but no one seemed specially impressed, and I could hear Mrs. +Smedley's voice talking loudly all the time. + +Mr. Lucas did not address me again; he and Uncle Geoffrey talked +politics on the rug. The Smedleys went early, and just as we were about +to follow their example a strange thing happened; poor Miss Ruth was +taken with one of her bad attacks. + +I was very frightened, for she looked to me as though she were dying; +but Uncle Geoffrey was her doctor, and understood all about it, and +Allan quietly stood by and helped him. + +Mr. Lucas rang for nurse, who always waited on Miss Ruth as well as +Flurry, but she had gone to bed with a sick headache. The housemaid was +young and awkward, and lost her head entirely, so Uncle Geoffrey sent +her away to get her mistress' room ready, and he and Allan carried Miss +Ruth up between them; and a few minutes afterward I heard Allan's +whistle, and ran out into the hall. + +"Good-night, Esther," he said, hurriedly; "I am just going to the +surgery for some medicine. Uncle Geoffrey thinks you ought to offer +your services for the night, as that girl is no manner of use; you had +better go up now." + +"But, Allan, I do not understand nursing in the least," for this +suggestion terrified me, and I wanted the walk home with Allan, and a +cozy chat when every one had gone to bed; but, to my confusion, he +merely looked at me and turned on his heel. Allan never wasted words on +these occasions; if people would not do their duty he washed his hands +of them. I could not bear him to be disappointed in me, or think me +cowardly and selfish, so I went sorrowfully up to Miss Ruth's room, and +found Uncle Geoffrey coming in search of me. + +"Oh, there you are, Esther," he said, in his most business-like tone, +taking it for granted, as a matter of course, that I was going to stay. +"I want you to help Miss Lucas to get comfortably to bed; she is in +great pain, and cannot speak to you just yet; but you must try to +assist her as well as you can. When the medicine comes, I will take a +final look at her, and give you your orders." And then he nodded to me +and went downstairs. There was no help for it; I must do my little +best, and say nothing about it. + +Strange to say, I had never been in Miss Ruth's room before. I knew +where it was situated, and that its windows looked out on the garden, +but I had no idea what sort of a place it was. + +It was not large, but so prettily fitted up, and bore the stamp of +refined taste, in every minute detail. I always think a room shows the +character of its owner; one can judge in an instant, by looking round +and noticing the little ornaments and small treasured possessions. + +I once questioned Carrie rather curiously about Mrs. Smedley's room, +and she answered, reluctantly, that it was a large, bare-looking +apartment, with an ugly paper, and full of medicine chests and +work-baskets; nothing very comfortable or tasteful in its arrangements. +I knew it; I could have told her so without seeing it. + +Miss Ruth's was very different; it was perfectly crowded with pretty +things, and yet not too many of them. And such beautiful pictures hung +on the walls, most of them sacred: but evidently chosen with a view to +cheerfulness. Just opposite the bed was "The Flight into Egypt;" a +portrait of Flurry; and some sunny little landscapes, most of them +English scenes, finished the collection. There were some velvet lined +shelves, filled with old china, and some dear little Dresden +shepherdesses on the mantelpiece. A stand of Miss Ruth's favorite books +stood beside her lounge chair, and her inlaid Indian desk was beside it. + +I was glad Miss Ruth liked pretty things; it showed such charming +harmony in her character. Poor Miss Ruth, she was evidently suffering +severely, as she lay on her couch in front of the fire; her hair was +unbound, and fell in thick short lengths over her pillow, reminding me +of Flurry's soft fluff, but not quite so bright a gold. + +I was sadly frightened when I found she did not open her eyes or speak +to me. I am afraid I bungled sadly over my task, though she was quite +patient and let me do what I liked with her. It seemed terribly long +before I had her safely in her bed. When her head touched the pillows, +she raised her eyelids with difficulty. + +"Thank you," she whispered; "you have done it so nicely, dear, and have +not hurt me more than you could help," and then she motioned me to kiss +her. Dear patient Miss Ruth! + +I had got the room all straight before Uncle Geoffrey came back, and +then Mr. Lucas was with him. Miss Ruth spoke to them both, and took +hold of her brother's hand as he leaned over her. + +"Good-night, Giles; don't worry about me; Esther is going to take care +of me." She took it for granted, too. "Dr. Cameron's medicine will soon +take away the pain." + +Uncle Geoffrey's orders were very simple; I must watch her and keep up +the fire, and give her another dose if she were to awake in two hours' +time; and if the attack came on again, I must wake nurse, in spite of +her headache, as she knew what to do; and then he left me. + +"You are very good to do this," Mr. Lucas said, as he shook hands with +me. "Have you been used to nursing?" + +I told him, briefly, no; but I was wise enough not to add that I feared +I should never keep awake, in Spite of some very strong coffee Uncle +Geoffrey had ordered me; but I was so young, and with such an appetite +for sleep. + +I took out my faded flowers when they left me, said my prayers, and +drank my coffee, and then tried to read one of Miss Ruth's books, but +the letters seemed to dance before my eyes. I am afraid I had a short +doze over Hiawatha, for I had a confused idea that I was Minnehaha +laughing-water; and I thought the forest leaves were rustling round me, +when a coal dropped out of the fire and startled me. + +It woke Miss Ruth from her refreshing sleep; but the pain had left her, +and she looked quite bright and like herself. + +"I am a bad sleeper, and often lie awake until morning," she said, as I +shook up her pillows and begged her to lie down again. "No, it is no +good trying again just now, I am so dreadfully wide awake. Poor Esther! +how tired you look, being kept out of your bed in this way." And she +wanted me to curl myself up on the couch and go to sleep, but I stoutly +refused; Uncle Geoffrey had said I was to watch her until morning. When +she found I was inexorable in my resolution to keep awake, she began to +talk. + +"I wonder if you know what pain is, Esther--real positive agony?" and +when I assured her that a slight headache was the only form of +suffering I had ever known, she gave a heavy sigh. + +"How strange, how fortunate, singular too, it seems to me. No pain! +that must be a foretaste of heaven;" and she repeated, dreamily, "no +more pain there. Oh, Esther, if you knew how I long sometimes for +heaven." + +The words frightened me, somehow; they spoke such volumes of repressed +longing. "Dear Miss Ruth, why?" I asked, almost timidly. + +"Can you ask why, and see me as I am to-night?" she asked, with +scarcely restrained surprise. "If I could only bear it more patiently +and learn the lesson it is meant to teach me, 'perfect through +suffering,' the works of His chisel!" And then she softly repeated the +words, + + "Shedding soft drops of pity + Where the sharp edges of the tool have been." + +"I always loved that stanza so; it gave me the first idea I ever quite +grasped how sorry He is when He is obliged to hurt us." And as I did +not know how to answer her, she begged me to fetch the book, and she +would show me the passage for myself. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +I WAS NOT LIKE OTHER GIRLS. + + +I had no idea Miss Ruth could talk as she did that night. She seemed to +open her heart to me with the simplicity of a child, giving me a deeper +insight into a very lovely nature. Carrie had hitherto been my ideal, +but on this night I caught myself wondering once or twice whether +Carrie would ever exercise such patience and uncomplaining endurance +under so many crossed purposes, such broken work. + +"I was never quite like other people," she said to me when I had closed +the book; "you know I was a mere infant in my nurse's arms, when that +accident happened." I nodded, for I had heard the sad details from +Uncle Geoffrey; how an unbroken pair of young horses had shied across +the road just as the nurse who was carrying Miss Ruth was attempting to +cross it; the nurse had been knocked down and dreadfully injured, and +her little charge had been violently thrown against the curb, and it +had been thought by the doctor that one of the horses must have kicked +her. For a long time she lay in a state of great suffering, and it was +soon known that her health had sustained permanent injury. + +"I was always a crooked, stunted little thing," she went on, with a +lovely smile. "My childhood was a sad ordeal; it was just battling with +pain, and making believe that I did not mind. I used to try and bear it +as cheerfully as I could, because mother fretted so over me; but in +secret I was terribly rebellious, often I cried myself to sleep with +angry passionate tears, because I was not like other girls. + +"Do you care to hear all this?" interrupting herself to look at my +attentive face. It must have been a sufficient answer, for she went on +talking without waiting for me to speak. + +"Giles was very good to me, but it was hard on him for his only sister +to be such a useless invalid. He was active and strong, and I could not +expect to keep him chained to my couch--I was always on a couch +then--he had his friends and his cricket and football, and I could not +expect to see much of him, I had to let him go with the rest. + +"Things went on like this--outward submission and inward revolt--much +affection, but little of the grace of patience, until the eve of my +confirmation, when a stranger came to preach at the parish church. I +never heard his name before, and I never have heard it since. People +said he came from a distance; but I shall never forget that sermon to +my dying day, or the silvery penetrating voice that delivered it. + +"It was as though a message from heaven was brought straight to me, to +the poor discontented child who sat so heart weary and desponding in +the corner of the pew. I cannot oven remember the text; it was +something about the suffering of Christ, but I knew that it was +addressed to the suffering members of His church, and that he touched +upon all physical and mental pain. And what struck me most was that he +spoke of pain as a privilege, a high privilege and special training; +something that called us into a fuller and inner fellowship with our +suffering head. + +"He told us the heathen might dread pain, but not the Christian; that +one really worthy of the name must be content to be the cross bearer, +to tread really and literally in the steps of the Master. + +"What if He unfolded to us the mystery of pain? Would He not unfold the +mystery of love too? What generous souls need fear that dread ordeal, +that was to remove them from the outer to the inner court? Ought they +not to rejoice that they were found worthy to share His reproach? He +said much more than this, Esther, but memory is so weak and betrays +one. But he had flung a torch into the darkest recesses of my soul, and +the sudden light seemed to scorch and shrivel up all the discontent and +bitterness; and, oh, the peace that succeeded; it was as though a +drowning mariner left off struggling and buffeting with the waves that +were carrying him to the shore, but just lay still and let himself be +floated in." + +"And you were happier," I faltered, as she suddenly broke off, as +though exhausted. + +"Yes, indeed," she returned softly. "Pain was not any more my enemy, +but the stern life companion He had sent to accompany me--the cross +that I must carry out of love to Him; oh, how different, how far more +endurable! I took myself in hand by-and-by when I grew older and had a +better judgment of things. I knew mine was a life apart, a separated +life; by that I mean that I should never know the joy of wifehood or +motherhood, that I must create my own little world, my own joys and +interests." + +"And you have done so." + +"Yes, I have done so; I am a believer in happiness; I am quite sure in +my mind that our beneficent Creator meant all His creatures to be +happy, that whatever He gives them to bear, that He intends them to +abide in the sunshine of His peace, and I determined to be happy. I +surrounded my-self with pretty things, with pictures that were pleasant +to the eye and recalled bright thoughts. I made my books my friends, +and held sweet satisfying communion with minds of all ages. I +cultivated music, and found intense enjoyment in the study of Handel +and Beethoven. + +"When I got a little stronger I determined to be a worker too, and +glean a little sheaf or two after the reapers, if it were only a +dropped ear now and then. + +"I took up the Senana Mission. You have no idea how important I have +grown, or what a vast correspondence I have kept up--the society begin +to find me quite useful to them--and I have dear unknown correspondents +whom I love as old friends, and whose faces I shall only see, perhaps, +when we meet in heaven. + +"When dear Florence died--that was my sister-in-law, you know--I came +to live with Giles, and to look after Flurry. I am quite a responsible +woman, having charge of the household, and trying to be a companion to +Giles; confess now, Esther, it is not such a useless life after all?" + +I do not know what I answered her. I have a dim recollection that I +burst into some extravagant eulogium or other, for she colored to her +temples and called me a foolish child, and begged me seriously never to +say such things to her again. + +"I do not deserve all that, Esther, but you are too young to judge +dispassionately; you must recollect that I have fewer temptations than +other people. If I were strong and well I might be worldly too." + +"No, never," I answered indignantly; "you would always be better than +other people, Miss Ruth--you and Carrie--oh, why are you both so good?" +with a despairing inflection in my voice. "How you must both look down +on me." + +"I know some one who is good, too," returned Miss Ruth, stroking my +hair. "I know a brave girl who works hard and wears herself out in +loving service, who is often tired and never complains, who thinks +little of herself, and yet who does much to brighten other lives, and I +think you know her too, Esther?" But I would not let her go on; it was +scant goodness to love her, and Allan, and Dot. How could any one do +otherwise? And what merit could there be in that? + +But though I disclaimed her praise, I was inwardly rejoiced that she +should think such things of me, and should judge me worthy of her +confidence. She was treating me as though I were her equal and friend, +and, to do her justice the idea of my being a governess never seemed to +enter into hers or Mr. Lucas' head. + +They always treated me from this time as a young friend, who conferred +a favor on them by coming. My salary seemed to pass into my hand with +the freedom of a gift. Perhaps it was that Uncle Geoffrey was such an +old and valued friend, and that Miss Ruth knew that in point of birth +the Camerons were far above the Lucases, for we were an old family whom +misfortune had robbed of our honors. + +However this may be, my privileges were many, and the yoke of service +lay lightly on my shoulders. Poor Carrie, indeed, had to eat the bitter +bread of dependence, and to take many a severe rebuke from her +employer. Mrs. Thorne was essentially a vulgar-minded woman. She was +affected by the adventitious adjuncts of life; dress, mere station and +wealth weighed largely in her view of things. Because we were poor, she +denied our claim to equality; because Carrie taught her children, she +snubbed and repressed her, to keep her in her place, as though Carrie +were a sort of Jack-in-the-box to be jerked back with every movement. + +When Miss Ruth called on mother, Mrs. Thorne shrugged her shoulders, +and wondered at the liberality of some people's views. When we were +asked to dinner at the Cedars (I suppose Mrs. Smedley told her, for +Carrie never gossiped), Mrs. Thorne's eye brows were uplifted in a +surprised way. Her scorn knew no bounds when she called one afternoon, +and saw Carrie seated at Miss Ruth's little tea-table; she completely +ignored her through the visit, except to ask once after her children's +lessons. Carrie took her snubbing meekly, and seemed perfectly +indifferent. Her quiet lady-like bearing seemed to impress Miss Ruth +most favorably, for when Carrie took her leave she kissed her, a thing +she had never done before. I looked across at Mrs. Thorne, and saw her +tea-cup poised half-way to her lips. She was transfixed with +astonishment. + +"I envy you your sister, Esther," said Miss Ruth, busying herself with +the silver kettle. "She is a dear girl--a very dear girl." + +"Humph!" ejaculated Mrs. Thorne. She was past words, and soon after she +took her departure in a high state of indignation and dudgeon. + +I did not go home the next day. Allan came to say good-by to me, Uncle +Geoffrey followed him, and he and Mr. Lucas both decided that I could +not be spared. Nurse was somewhat ailing, and Uncle Geoffrey had to +prescribe for her too; and as Miss Ruth recovered slowly from these +attacks, she would be very lonely, shut up in her room. + +Miss Ruth was overjoyed when I promised to stay with her as long as +they wanted me. Allan had satisfied my scruples about Jack and Dot. + +"They all think you ought to stay," he said. "Mother was the first to +decide that. Martha has promised to attend to Dot in your absence. She +grumbled a little, and so did he; but that will not matter. Jack must +look after herself," finished this very decided young man, who was apt +to settle feminine details in rather a summary fashion. + +If mother said it was my duty to remain, I need not trouble my head +about minor worries; the duty in hand, they all thought, was with Miss +Ruth, and with Miss Ruth I would stay. + +"It will be such a luxury to have you, Esther," she said, in her old +bright way. "My head is generally bad after these attacks, and I cannot +read much to myself, and with all my boasted resolution the hours do +seem very long. Flurry must spare you to me after the morning, and we +will have nice quiet times together." + +So I took possession of the little room next hers, and put away the few +necessaries that mother had sent me, with a little picture of Dot, that +he had drawn for me; but I little thought that afternoon that it would +be a whole month before I left it. + +I am afraid that long visit spoiled me a little; it was so pleasant +resuming some of the old luxuries. Instead of the cold bare room where +Jack and I slept, for, in spite of all our efforts, it did look bare in +the winter, I found a bright fire burning in my cozy little chamber, +and casting warm ruddy gleams over the white china tiles; the wax +candles stood ready for lighting on the toilet table; my dressing gown +was aging in company with my slippers; everything so snug and essential +to comfort, to the very eider-down quilt that looked so tempting. + +Then in the morning, just to dress myself and go down to the pleasant +dining-room, with the great logs spluttering out a bright welcome, and +the breakfast table loaded with many a dainty. No shivering Dot to +coerce into good humor; no feckless Jack to frown into order; no grim +Deborah to coax and help. Was it very wicked that I felt all this a +relief? Then how deliciously the days passed; the few lessons with +Flurry, more play than work; the inspiriting ramble ending generally +with a peep at mother and Dot! + +The cozy luncheons, at which Flurry and I made our dinners, where +Flurry sat in state at the bottom of the table and carved the pudding, +and gave herself small airs of consequence, and then the long quiet +afternoons with Miss Ruth. + +I used to write letters at her dictation, and read to her, not +altogether dry reading, for she dearly loved an amusing book. It was +the "Chronicles of Carlingford" we read, I remember; and how she +praised the whole series, calling them pleasant wholesome pictures of +life. We used to be quite sorry when Rhoda, the rosy-cheeked housemaid, +brought up the little brass kettle, and I had to leave off to make Miss +Ruth's tea. Mr. Lucas always came up when that was over, to sit with +his sister a little and tell her all the news of the day, while I went +down to Flurry, whom I always found seated on the library sofa, with +her white frock spreading out like wings, waiting to sit with father +while he ate his dinner. + +I always had supper in Miss Ruth's room, and never left her again till +nurse came in to put her comfortable for the night. Flurry used to run +in on her way to bed to hug us both and tell us what father had said. + +"You are father's treasure, his one ewe lamb, are you not?" said Miss +Ruth once, as she drew the child fondly toward her; and when she had +gone, running off with her merry laugh, she spoke almost with a sigh of +her brother's love for the child. + +"Giles's love for her almost resembles idolatry. The child is like him, +but she has poor Florence's eyes and her bright happy nature. I tremble +sometimes to think what would become of him if he lost her. I have +lived long enough to know that God sometimes takes away 'the desire of +a man's eyes, all that he holds most dear.'" + +"But not often," I whispered, kissing her troubled brow, for a look of +great sadness came over her face at the idea; but her words recurred to +me by-and-by when I heard a short conversation between Flurry and her +father. + +After the first fortnight Miss Ruth regained strength a little, and +though still an invalid was enabled to spend some hours downstairs. +Before I left the Cedars she had resumed all her old habits, and was +able to preside at her brother's dinner-table. + +I joined them on these occasions, both by hers and Mr. Lucas' request, +and so became better acquainted with Flurry's father. + +One Sunday afternoon I was reading in the drawing-room window, and +trying to finish my book by the failing wintry light, when Flurry's +voice caught my attention; she was sitting on a stool at her father's +feet turning over the pages of her large picture Bible. Mr. Lucas had +been dozing, I think, for there had been no conversation. Miss Ruth had +gone upstairs. + +"Father," said the little one, suddenly, in her eager voice, "I do love +that story of Isaac. Abraham was such a good man to offer up his only +son, only God stopped him, you know. I wonder what his mother would +have done if he had come home, and told her he had killed her boy. +Would she have believed him, do you think? Would she have ever liked +him again?" + +"My little Florence, what a strange idea to come into your small head." +I could tell from Mr. Lucas' tone that such an idea had never occurred +to him. What would Sarah have said as she looked upon her son's +destroyer? Would she have acquiesced in that dread obedience, that +sacrificial rite? + +"But, father dear," still persisted Flurry, "I can't help thinking +about it; it would have been so dreadful for poor Sarah. Do you think +you would have been like Abraham, father; would you have taken the +knife to slay your only child?" + +"Hush, Florence," cried her father, hoarsely, and he suddenly caught +her to him and kissed her, and bade her run away to her Aunt Ruth with +some trifling message or other. I could see her childish question +tortured him, by the strained look of his face, as he approached the +window. He had not known I was there, but when he saw me he said almost +irritably, only it was the irritability of suppressed pain: + +"What can put such thoughts in the child's head? I hope you do not let +her think too much, Miss Cameron?" + +"Most children have strange fancies," I returned, quietly. "Flurry has +a vivid imagination; she thinks more deeply than you could credit at +her age; she often surprises me by the questions she asks. They show an +amount of reasoning power that is very remarkable." + +"Let her play more," he replied, in a still more annoyed voice. "I hate +prodigies; I would not have Flurry an infant phenomenon for the world. +She has too much brain-power; she is too excitable; you must keep her +back Miss Cameron." + +"I will do what I can," I returned humbly; and then, as he still looked +anxious and ill at ease, I went on, "I do not think you need trouble +about Flurry's precocity; children often say these things. Dot, my +little brother--Frankie, I mean--would astonish you with some of his +remarks. And then there was Jack," warming up with my subject; "Jack +used to talk about harps and angels in the most heavenly way, till +mother cried and thought she would die young; and look at Jack now--a +strong healthy girl, without an ounce of imagination." I could see Mr. +Lucas smile quietly to himself in the dusk, for he knew Jack, and had +made more than one quizzical remark on her; but I think my observation +comforted him a little, for he said no more, only when Flurry returned +he took her on his knees and told her about a wonderful performing +poodle he had seen, as a sort of pleasant interlude after her severe +Biblical studies. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +"WE HAVE MISSED DAME BUSTLE." + + +One other conversation lingered long in my memory, and it took place on +my last evening at the Cedars. On the next day I was going home to +mother and Dot, and yet I sighed! Oh, Esther, for shame! + +It was just before dinner. Miss Ruth had been summoned away to see an +old servant of the family, and Flurry had run after her. Mr. Lucas was +standing before the fire, warming himself after the manner of +Englishmen, and I sat at Miss Ruth's little table working at a fleecy +white shawl, that I was finishing to surprise mother. + +There was a short silence between us, for though I was less afraid of +Mr. Lucas than formerly, I never spoke to him unless he addressed me; +but, looking up from my work a moment, I saw him contemplating me in a +quiet, thoughtful way, but he smiled pleasantly when our eyes met. + +"This is your last evening, I think, Miss Cameron?" + +"Indeed it is," I returned, with a short sigh. + +"You are sorry to leave us?" he questioned, very kindly; for I think he +had heard the sigh. + +"I ought not to be sorry," I returned, stoutly; "for I am going home." + +"Oh! and home means everything with you!" + +"It means a great deal," knitting furiously, for I was angry at myself +for being so sorry to leave; "but Miss Ruth has been so good to me that +she has quite spoiled me. I shall not be half so fit for all the hard +work I have at home. + +"That is a pity," he returned, slowly, as though he were revolving not +my words, but some thoughts in his own mind. "Do you know I was +thinking of something when you looked up just now. I was wondering why +you should not remain with us altogether." I put down my knitting at +that, and looked him full in the face; I was so intensely surprised at +his words. "You and my sister are such friends; it would be pleasant +for her to have you for a constant companion, for I am often busy and +tired, and----" He paused as though he would have added something, but +thought better of it. "And she is much alone. A young lively girl would +rouse her and do her good, and Flurry would be glad of you." + +"I should like it very much," I returned, hesitatingly, "if it were not +for mother and Dot." Just for the moment the offer dazzled me and +blinded my common sense. Always to occupy my snug little pink chamber; +to sit with Miss Ruth in this warm, luxurious drawing-room; to be +waited on, petted, spoiled, as Miss Ruth always spoiled people. No +wonder such a prospect allured a girl of seventeen. + +"Oh, they will do without you," he returned, with a man's indifference +to female argument. He and Allan were alike in the facility with which +they would knock over one's pet theories. "You are like other young +people, Miss Cameron; you think the world cannot get on without you. +When you are older you will get rid of this idea," he continued, +turning amused eyes on my youthful perplexity. "It is only the young +who think one cannot do without them," finished this worldly-wise +observer of human nature. + +Somehow that stung me and put me on my mettle, and in a moment I had +arrayed the whole of my feeble forces against so arbitrary an +arrangement of my destiny. + +"I cannot help what other young people think," I said, in rather a +perverse manner; "they may be wise or foolish as they like, but I am +sure of one thing, that mother and Dot cannot do without me." + +I am afraid my speech was rather rude and abrupt, but Mr. Lucas did not +seem to mind it. His eyes still retained their amused twinkle, but he +condescended to argue the point more seriously with me, and sat down in +Miss Ruth's low chair, as though to bring himself more on a level with +me. + +"Let me give you a piece of advice, Miss Cameron; never be too sure of +anything. Granted that your mother will miss you very badly at first (I +can grant you that, if you like), but there is your sister to console +her; and that irresistible Jack--how can your mother, a sensible woman +in her way, let a girl go through life with such a name?" + +"She will not answer to any other,"' I returned, half offended at this +piece of plain speaking; but it was true we had tried Jacqueline, and +Lina, and Jack had always remained obstinately deaf. + +"Well, well, she will get wiser some day, when she grows into a woman; +she will take more kindly to a sensible name then; but as I was saying, +your mother may miss you, but all the same she may be thankful to have +you so well established and in so comfortable a position. You will be a +member of the family, and be treated as well as my sister herself; and +the additional salary may be welcome just now, when there are +school-bills to pay." + +It seemed clear common sense, put in that way, but not for one instant +would I entertain such a proposition seriously. The more tempting it +looked, the more I distrusted it. Mr. Lucas might be worldly-wise, but +here I knew better than he. Would a few pounds more reconcile mother to +my vacant place, or cheer Dot's blank face when he knew Esther had +deserted him? + +"You are very good," I said, trying to keep myself well in hand, and to +speak quietly--but now my cheeks burned with the effort; "and I thank +you very much for your kind thought, but----" + +"Give me no buts," he interrupted, smiling; "and don't thank me for a +piece of selfishness, for I was thinking most of my sister and Flurry." + +"But all the same I must thank you," I returned, firmly; "and I would +like you to believe how happy I should have been if I could have done +this conscientiously." + +"It is really so impossible?" still incredulously. + +"Really and truly, Mr. Lucas. I am worth little to other people, I +know, but in their estimation I am worth much. Dot would fret badly; +and though mother would make the best of it--she always does--she would +never get over the missing, for Carrie is always busy, and Jack is so +young, and----" + +"There is the dinner bell, and Ruth still chattering with old nurse. +That is the climax of our argument. I dare say no more, you are so +terribly in earnest, Miss Cameron, and so evidently believe all you +say; but all the same, mothers part with their daughters sometimes, +very gladly, too, under other circumstances; but there, we will let the +subject drop for the present." And then he looked again at me with +kindly amused eyes, refusing to take umbrage at my obstinacy; and then, +to my relief, Miss Ruth interrupted us. + +I felt rather extinguished for the rest of the evening. I did not dare +tell Miss Ruth, for fear she would upbraid me for my refusal. I knew +she would side with her brother, and would think I could easily be +spared from home. And if Carrie would only give up her parish work, and +fit into the niche of the daughter of the house, she could easily +fulfill all my duties. If--a great big "if" it was--an "if" that would +spoil Carrie's life, and destroy all those sweet solemn hopes of hers. +No, no; I must not entertain such a thought for a moment. + +Mr. Lucas had spoiled my last evening for me, and I think he knew it, +for he came to my side as I was putting away my work, and spoke a few +contrite words. + +"Don't let our talk worry you," he said, in so low a voice that Miss +Ruth could not hear his words. "I am sure you were quite right to +decide as you did--judging from your point of view, I mean, for of +course I hold a different opinion. If you ever see fit to change your +decision, you must promise to come and tell me." And of course I +promised unhesitatingly. + +Miss Ruth followed me to my room, and stood by the fire a few minutes. + +"You look grave to-night, Esther, and I flatter myself that it is +because you are sorry that your visit has come to an end." + +"And you are right," I returned, throwing my arms round her light +little figure. Oh, how dearly I had grown to love her! "I would like to +be always with you, Miss Ruth; to wait upon you and be your servant. +Nothing would be beneath me--nothing. You are fond of me a little, are +you not?" for somehow I craved for some expression of affection on this +last night. Miss Ruth was very affectionate, but a little +undemonstrative sometimes in manner. + +"I am very fond of you, Esther," she replied, turning her sweet eyes to +me, "and I shall miss my kind, attentive nurse more than I can say. +Poor Nurse Gill is getting quite jealous of you. She says Flurry is +always wild to get to her playfellow, and will not stay with her if she +can help it, and that now I can easily dispense with her services for +myself. I had to smooth her down, Esther; the poor old creature quite +cried about it, but I managed to console her at last." + +"I was always afraid that Mrs. Gill did not like me," I returned, in a +pained voice, for somehow I always disliked hurting people's feelings. + +"Oh, she likes you very much; you must not think that. She says Miss +Cameron is a very superior young lady, high in manner, and quite the +gentlewoman. I think nurse's expression was 'quite the lady, Miss +Ruth.'" + +"I have never been high in manner to her," I laughed. "We have a fine +gossip sometimes over the nursery fire. I like Mrs. Gill, and would not +injure her feelings for the world. She is so kind to Dot, too, when he +comes to play with Flurry." + +"Poor little man, he will be glad to get his dear Esther back," she +returned, in a sympathizing voice; and then she bade me good-night, and +begged me to hasten to bed, as St. Barnabas had just chimed eleven. + +I woke the next morning with a weight upon me, as though I were +expecting some ordeal; and though I scolded myself vigorously for my +moral cowardice, and called myself a selfish, lazy girl, I could not +shake off the feeling. + +Never had Miss Ruth seemed so dear to me as she had that day. As the +hour approached for my departure I felt quite unhappy at the thought of +even leaving her for those few hours. + +"We shall see you in the morning," she said, quite cheerfully, as I +knelt on the rug, drawing on my warm gloves. I fancied she noticed my +foolish, unaccountable depression, and would not add to it by any +expression of regret. + +"Oh, yes," I returned, with a sort of sigh, as I glanced round the room +where I had passed the evenings so pleasantly of late, and thought of +the mending basket at home. I was naughty, I confess it; there were +absolutely tears in my eyes, as I ran out into the cold dusk of a +February evening. + +The streets were wet and gleaming, the shop lights glimmered on pools +of rain-water; icy drops pattered down on my face; the brewers' horses +steamed as they passed with the empty dray; the few foot passengers in +High street shuffled along as hastily as they could; even Polly +Pattison's rosy face looked puckered up with cold as she put up the +shutters of the Dairy. + +Uncle Geoffrey's voice hailed me on the doorstep. + +"Here you are, little woman. Welcome home! We have missed Dame Bustle +dreadfully;" and as he kissed me heartily I could not help stroking his +rough, wet coat sleeve in a sort of penitent way. + +"Have you really missed me? It is good of you to say so, Uncle Geoff." + +"The house has not felt the same," he returned, pushing me in before +him, and bidding me shake my cloak as I took it off in the passage. + +And then the door opened, and dear mother came out to help me. As I +felt her gentle touch, and heard Dot's feeble "Hurrah! here is Esther!" +the uncomfortable, discontented feelings vanished, and my better self +regained the mastery. Yes, it was homely and shabby; but oh! so sunny +and warm! I forgot Miss Ruth when Dot's beautiful little face raised +itself from the cushions of the sofa, on which I had placed him, and he +put his arms round me as I knelt down beside him, and whispered that +his back was bad, and his legs felt funny, and he was so glad I was +home again, for Martha was cross, and had hard scrubby hands, and hurt +him often, though she did not mean it. This and much more did Dot +whisper in his childish confidence. + +Then Jack came flying in, with Smudge, as usual, in her arms, and a +most tumultuous welcome followed. And then came Carrie, with her soft +kiss and few quiet words. I thought she looked paler and thinner than +when I left home, but prettier than ever; and she, too, seemed pleased +to see me. I took off my things as quickly as I could--not stopping to +look round the somewhat disorderly room, where Jack had worked her +sweet will for the last month--and joined the family at the tea-table. +And afterward I sat close to mother, and talked to her as I mended one +of Dot's shirts. + +Now and then my thoughts strayed to a far different scene--to a room +lighted up with wax candles in silver sconces, and the white china lamp +that always stood on Miss Ruth's little table. + +I could see in my mind's eye the trim little figure in black silk and +lace ruffles, the diamonds gleaming on the small white hands. Flurry +would be on the rug in her white frock, playing with the Persian +kittens; most likely her father would be watching her from his armchair. + +I am afraid I answered mother absently, for, looking up, I caught her +wistful glance at me. Carrie was at her night school, and Uncle +Geoffrey had been called out. Jack was learning her lessons in the +front parlor, and only Dot kept us company. + +"You must find it very different from the Cedars," she said, +regretfully; "all that luxury must have spoiled you for home, Esther. +Don't think I am complaining, my love, if I say you seem a little dull +to-night." + +"Oh, mother!" flushing up to my temples with shame and irritation at +her words; and then another look at the worn face under the widow's cap +restrained my momentary impatience. Dot, who was watching us, struck in +in his childish way. + +"Do you like the Cedars best, Essie? Would you rather be with Flurry +than me?" + +My own darling! The bare idea was heresy, and acted on me like a moral +_douche_. + +"Oh! mother and Dot," I said, "how can you both talk so? I am not +spoiled--I refuse to be spoiled. I love the Cedars, but I love my own +dear little home best." And at this moment I believed my own words. +"Dot, how can you be so faithless--how could I love Flurry best? And +what would Allan say? You are our own little boy, you know; he said so, +and you belong to us both." And Dot's childish jealousy vanished. As +for dear mother, she smiled at me in a sweet, satisfied way. + +"That is like our own old Esther. You were so quiet all tea-time, my +dear, that I fancied something was amiss. It is so nice having you +working beside me again," she went on, with a little gentle artifice. +"I have missed your bright talk so much in the evenings." + +"Has Carrie been out much?" I asked; but I knew what the answer would +be. + +"Generally three evenings in the week," returned mother, with a sigh, +"and her home evenings have been so engrossed of late. Mrs. Smedley +gives her all sorts of things to do--mending and covering books; I +hardly knew what." + +"Carrie never sings to us now," put in Dot. + +"She is too tired, that is what she always says; but I cannot help +thinking a little music would be a healthy relaxation for her; but she +will have it that with her it is waste of time," said mother. + +Waste of time to sing to mother! I broke my thread in two with +indignation at the thought. Yes, I was wanted at home, I could see +that; Deborah told me so in her taciturn way, when I went to the +kitchen to speak to her and Martha. + +I had sad work with my room before I slept that night, when Jack was +fast asleep; and I was tired out when I crept shivering into my cold +bed. I hardly seemed to have slept an hour before I saw Martha's +unlovely face bending over me with the flaming candle, so different +from Miss Ruth's trim maid. + +"Time to get up, Miss Esther, if you are going to dress Master Dot +before breakfast. It is mortal cold, to be sure, and raw as raw; but I +have brought you a cup of hot tea, as you seemed a bit down last night." + +The good creature! I could have hugged her in my girlish gratitude. The +tea was a delicious treat, and put new heart into me. I was quite fresh +and rested when I went into Dot's little room. He opened his eyes +widely when he saw me. + +"Oh, Esther! is it really you, and not that ugly old Martha?" he cried +out, joyfully. "I do hate her, to be sure. I will be a good boy, and +you shall not have any trouble." And thereupon he fell to embracing me +as though he would never leave off. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +PLAYING IN TOM TIDLER'S GROUND. + + +We had had an old-fashioned winter--weeks of frost to delight the +hearts of the young skaters of Milnthorpe; clear, cold bracing days, +that made the young blood in our veins tingle with the sense of new +life and buoyancy; long, dark winter evenings, when we sat round the +clear, red fire, and the footsteps of the few passengers under our +window rang with a sort of metallic sound on the frozen pavements. + +What a rush of cold air when the door opened, what snow-powdered +garments we used to bring into Deborah's spotless kitchen! Dot used to +shiver away from my kisses, and put up a little mittened hand to ward +me off. "You are like a snow-woman, Essie," he would say. "Your face is +as hard and cold and red as one of the haws Flurry brought me." + +"She looks as blooming as a rose in June," Uncle Geoffrey answered +once, when he heard Dot's unflattering comparison. "Be off, lassie, and +take off those wet boots;" but as I closed the door he added to mother, +"Esther is improving, I think; she is less angular, and with that clear +fresh color she looks quite bonnie." + +"Quite bonnie." Oh, Uncle Geoffrey, you little knew how that speech +pleased me. + +Winter lasted long that year, and then came March, rough and boisterous +and dull as usual, with its cruel east wind and the dust, "a peck of +which was worth a king's ransom," as father used to say. + +Then came April, variable and bright, with coy smiles forever +dissolving in tears; and then May in full blossom and beauty giving +promise of summer days. + +We used to go out in the lanes, Flurry and I, to gather the spring +flowers that Miss Ruth so dearly loved. We made a primrose basket once +for her room, and many a cowslip ball for Dot, and then there were +dainty little bunches of violets for mother and Carrie, only Carrie +took hers to a dying girl in Nightingale lane. + +The roads round Milnthorpe were so full of lovely things hidden away +among the mosses, that I proposed to Flurry that we should collect +basketsful for Carrie's sick people. Miss Ruth was delighted with the +idea, and asked Jack and Dot to join us, and we all drove down to a +large wood some miles from the town, and spent the whole of the spring +afternoon playing in a new Tom Tidler's ground, picking up gold and +silver. The gold lay scattered broadcast on the land, in yellow patches +round the trunks of trees, or beyond in the gleaming meadows; and we +worked until the primroses lay heaped up in the baskets in wild +confusion, and until our eyes ached with the yellow gleam. I could hear +Dot singing softly to himself as he picked industriously. When he and +Flurry got tired they seated themselves like a pair of happy little +birds on the low bough of a tree. I could hear them twittering softly +to each other, as they swung, with their arms interlaced, backward and +forward in the sunlight; now and then I caught fragments of their talk. + +"We shall have plenty of flowers to pick in heaven," Dot was saying as +I worked near them. + +"Oh, lots," returned Flurry, in an eager voice, "red and white roses, +and lilies of the valley, miles of them--millions and millions, for all +the little children, you know. What a lot of children there will be, +Dot, and how nice to do nothing but play with them, always and forever." + +"We must sing hymns, you know," returned Dot, with a slight hesitation +in his voice. Being a well brought up little boy, he was somewhat +scandalized by Flurry's views; they sounded somewhat earthly and +imperfect. + +"Oh, we can sing as we play," observed Flurry, irreverently; she was +not at all in a heavenly mood this afternoon. "We can hang up our +harps, as they do in the Psalms, you know, and just gather flowers as +long as we like." + +"It is nice to think one's back won't ache so much over it, there," +replied poor Dot, who was quite weak and limp from his exertions. "One +of the best things about heaven is, though it all seems nice enough, +that we shan't be tired. Think of that, Flurry--never to be tired!" + +"I am never tired, though I am sleepy sometimes," responded Flurry, +with refreshing candor, "You forget the nicest part, you silly boy, +that it will never be dark. How I do hate the dark, to be sure." + +Dot opened his eyes widely at this. "Do you?" he returned, in an +astonished voice; "that is because you are a girl, I suppose. I never +thought much about it. I think it is nice and cozy when one is tucked +up in bed. I always imagine the day is as tired as I am, and that she +has been put to bed too, in a nice, warm, dark blanket." + +"Oh, you funny Dot," crowed Flurry. But she would not talk any more +about heaven; she was in wild spirits, and when she had swung enough +she commenced pelting Dot with primroses. Dot bore it stoutly for +awhile, until he could resist no longer, and there was a flowery battle +going on under the trees. + +It was quite late in the day when the tired children arrived home. + +Carrie fairly hugged Dot when the overflowing baskets were placed at +her feet. + +"These are for all the sick women and little children," answered Dot, +solemnly; "we worked so hard, Flurry and I." + +"You are a darling," returned Carrie, dimpling with pleasure. + +I believe this was the sweetest gift we could have made her. Nothing +for herself would have pleased her half so much. She made Jack and me +promise to help her carry them the next day, and we agreed, nothing +loth. We had quite a festive afternoon in Nightingale lane. + +I had never been with Carrie before in her rounds, and I was +wonderfully struck with her manner to the poor folk; there was so much +tact, such delicate sympathy in all she said and did. I could see surly +faces soften and rough voices grow silent as she addressed them in her +simple way. Knots of boys and men dispersed to let her pass. + +"Bless her sweet face!" I heard one old road-sweeper say; and all the +children seemed to crowd round her involuntarily, and yet, with the +exception of Dot, she had never seemed to care for children. + +I watched her as she moved about the squalid rooms, arranging the +primroses in broken bowls, and even teacups, with a sort of ministering +grace I had never noticed in her before. Mother had always praised her +nursing. She said her touch was so soft and firm, and her movement so +noiseless; and she had once advised me to imitate her in this; and as I +saw the weary eyes brighten and the languid head raise itself on the +pillow at her approach, I could not but own that Carrie was in her +natural sphere. + +As we returned home with our empty baskets, she told us a great deal +about her district, and seemed grateful to us for sharing her pleasure. +Indeed, I never enjoyed a talk with Carrie more; I never so thoroughly +entered into the interest of her work. + +One June afternoon, when I returned home a little earlier than usual, +for Flurry had been called down to go out with her father, I found Miss +Ruth sitting with mother. + +I had evidently disturbed a most engrossing conversation, for mother +looked flushed and a little excited, as she always did when anything +happened out of the common, and Miss Ruth had the amused expression I +knew so well. + +"You are earlier than usual, my dear," said mother, with an odd little +twitch of the lip, as though something pleased her. But here Dot, who +never could keep a secret for five minutes, burst out in his shrill +voice: + +"Oh, Essie, what do you think? You will never believe it--you and I and +Flurry are going to Roseberry for six whole weeks." + +"You have forgotten me, you ungrateful child," returned Miss Ruth in a +funny tone; "I am nobody, I suppose, so long as you get your dear +Esther and Flurry." + +Dot was instinctively a little gentleman. He felt he had made a +mistake; so he hobbled up to Miss Ruth, and laid his hand on hers: "We +couldn't do without you--could we, Essie?" he said in a coaxing voice. +"Esther does not like ordering dinners; she often says so, and she +looks ready to cry when Deb brings her the bills. It will be ever so +much nicer to have Miss Ruth, won't it, Esther?" But I was too +bewildered to answer him. + +"Oh, mother, is it really true? Can you really spare us, and for six +whole weeks? Oh, it is too delightful! But Carrie, does she not want +the change more than I?" + +I don't know why mother and Miss Ruth exchanged glances at this; but +mother said rather sadly: + +"Miss Lucas has been good enough to ask your sister, Esther; she +thought you might perhaps take turns; but I am sorry to say Carrie will +not hear of it. She says it will spoil your visit, and that she cannot +be spared." + +"Our parochial slave-driver is going out of town," put in Miss Ruth +dryly. She could be a little sarcastic sometimes when Mrs. Smedley's +name was implied. In her inmost heart she had no more love than I for +the bustling lady. + +"She is going to stay with her niece at Newport, and so her poor little +subaltern, Carrie, cannot be absent from her post. One day I mean to +give a piece of my mind to that good lady," finished Miss Ruth, with a +malicious sparkle in her eyes. + +"Oh, it's no use talking," sighed mother, and there was quite a +hopeless inflection in her voice. "Carrie is a little weak, in spite of +her goodness. She is like her mother in that--the strongest mind +governs her. I have no chance against Mrs. Smedley." + +"It is a shame," I burst out; but Miss Ruth rose from her chair, still +smiling. + +"You must restrain your indignation till I have gone, Esther," she +said, in mock reproof. "Your mother and I have done all we could, and +have coaxed and scolded for the last half-hour. The Smedley influence +is too strong for us. Never mind, I have captured you and Dot; +remember, you must be ready for us on Monday week;" and with that she +took her departure. + +Mother followed me up to my room, on pretense of looking over Jack's +things, but in reality she wanted a chat with me. + +The dear soul was quite overjoyed at the prospect of my holiday; she +mingled lamentations over Carrie's obstinacy with expressions of +pleasure at the treat in store for Dot and me. + +"And you will not be lonely without us, mother?" + +"My dear, how could I be so selfish! Think of the benefit the sea air +will be to Dot! And then, I can trust him so entirely to you." And +thereupon she began an anxious inquiry as to the state of my wardrobe, +which lasted until the bell rang. + +But, in spite of the delicious anticipations that filled me, I was not +wholly satisfied, and when mother had said good-night to us I detained +Carrie. + +She came back a little reluctantly, and asked me what I wanted with +her. She looked tired, almost worn out, and the blue veins were far too +perceptible on the smooth, white forehead. I noticed for the first time +a hollowness about the temples; the marked restlessness of an +over-conscientious mind was wearing out the body; the delicacy of her +look filled me with apprehension. + +"Oh, Carrie!" I said, vehemently, "you are not well; this hot weather +is trying you. Do listen to me, darling. I don't want to vex you, but +you must promise me to come to Roseberry." + +To my surprise she drew back with almost a frightened look on her face; +well, not that exactly, but a sort of scared, bewildered expression. + +"Don't, Esther. Why will none of you give me any peace? Is it not +enough that mother and Miss Lucas have been talking to me, and now you +must begin! Do you know how much it costs me to stand firm against you +all? You distress me, you wear me out with your talk." + +"Why cannot we convince you?" I returned, with a sort of despair. "You +are mother's daughter, not Mrs. Smedley's: you owe no right of +obedience to that woman." + +"How you all hate her!" she sighed. "I must look for no sympathy from +any of you--your one thought is to thwart me in every way." + +"Carrie!" I almost gasped, for she looked and spoke so unlike herself. + +"I don't mean to be unkind," she replied in a softening tone; "I +suppose you all mean it for the best. Once for all, Esther, I cannot +come to Roseberry. I have promised Mrs. Smedley to look after things in +her absence, and nothing would induce me to forfeit my trust." + +"You could write to her and say you were not well," I began; but she +checked me almost angrily. + +"I am well, I am quite well; if I long for rest, if the prospect of a +little change would be delightful, I suppose I could resist even these +temptations. I am not worse than many other girls; I have work to do, +and must do it. No fears of possible breakdowns shall frighten me from +my duty. Go and enjoy your holiday, and do not worry about me, Esther." +And then she kissed me, and took up her candle. + +I was sadly crestfallen, but no arguments could avail, I thought; and +so I let her go from me. And yet if I had known the cause of her sudden +irritability, I should not so soon have given up all hope. I little +knew how sorely she was tempted; how necessary some brief rest and +change of scene was to her overwrought nerves. If I had only been +patient and pleaded with her, I think I must have persuaded her; but, +alas! I never knew how nearly she had yielded. + +There was no sleep for Dot that night. I found him in a fever of +excitement, thumping his hot pillows and flinging himself about in vain +efforts to get cool. It was no good scolding him; he had these +sleepless fits sometimes; so I bathed his face and hands, and sat down +beside him, and laid my head against the pillow, hoping that he would +quiet down by-and-by. But nothing would prevent his talking. + +"I wish I were out with the flowers in the garden," he said; "I think +it is stupid being tucked up in bed in the summer. Allan is not in bed, +is he? He says he is often called up, and has to cross the quadrangle +to go to a great bare room where they bind up broken heads. Should you +like to be a doctor, Essie?" + +"If I were a man," I returned, confidently, "I should be either a +clergyman or a doctor; they are the grandest and noblest of +professions. One is a cure of bodies, and the other is a cure of souls." + +"Oh, but they hurt people," observed Dot, shrinking a little; "they +have horrid instruments they carry about with them." + +"They only hurt people for their own good, you silly little boy. Think +of all the dark sick rooms they visit, and the poor, helpless people +they comfort. They spend their lives doing good, healing dreadful +diseases, and relieving pain." + +"I think Allan's life will be more useful than Fred's," observed Dot. +Poor little boy! Constant intercourse with grown-up people was making +him precocious. He used to say such sharp, shrewd things sometimes. + +I sighed a little when he spoke of Fred. I could imagine him loitering +through life in his velveteen coat, doing little spurts of work, but +never settling down into thorough hard work. + +Allan's descriptions of his life were not very encouraging. His last +letter to me spoke a little dubiously about Fred's prospects. + +"He is just a drawing-master, and nothing else," wrote Allan. "Uncle +Geoffrey's recommendations have obtained admittance for him into one or +two good houses, and I hear he has hopes of Miss Hemming's school in +Bayswater. Not a very enlivening prospect for our elegant Fred! Fancy +that very superior young man sinking into a drawing-master! So much for +the hanging committee and the picture that is to represent the Cameron +genius. + +"I went down to Acacia road on Thursday evening, and dimly perceived +Fred across an opaque cloud of tobacco smoke. He and some kindred +spirits were talking art jargon in this thick atmosphere. + +"Fred looked a Bohemian of Bohemians in his gaudy dressing-gown and +velvet smoking-cap. His hair is longer than ever, and he has become +aesthetic in his tastes. There was broken china enough to stock a small +shop. I am afraid I am rather too much a Philistine for their notions. +I got some good downright stares and shrugs over my tough John Bull +tendencies. + +"Tell mother Fred is all right, and keeping out of debt, and so one +must not mind a few harmless vagaries." + +"Broken china, indeed!" muttered Uncle Geoff when I had finished +reading this clause. "Broken fiddlesticks! Why, the lad must be weak in +his head to spend his money on such rubbish." Uncle Geoffrey was never +very civil to Fred. + +Dot did not say any more, and I began a long story, to keep his tongue +quiet. As it was purposely uninteresting, and told in a monotonous +voice, it soon had the effect of making him drowsy. When I reached this +point, I stole softly from the room. It was bright moonlight when I lay +down in bed, and all night long I dreamed of a rippling sea and broad +sands, over which Dot and I were walking, hand in hand. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +LIFE AT THE BRAMBLES. + + +It was a lovely evening when we arrived at Roseberry. + +"We lead regular hermit lives at the Brambles, away from the haunts of +men," observed Miss Ruth; but I was too much occupied to answer her. +Dot and I were peeping through the windows of the little omnibus that +was conveying us and our luggage to the cottage. Miss Ruth had a pretty +little pony carriage for country use; but she would not have it sent to +the station to meet us--the omnibus would hold us all, she said. Nurse +could go outside; the other two servants who made up the modest +establishment at the Brambles had arrived the previous day. + +Roseberry was a straggling little place, without much pretension to +gentility. A row of white lodging-houses, with green verandas, looked +over the little parade; there was a railed-in green enclosure before +the houses, where a few children played. + +Half a dozen bathing-machines were drawn up on the beach; beyond was +the Preventive station, and the little white cottages where the +Preventive men lived, with neat little gardens in front. + +The town was rather like Milnthorpe, for it boasted only one long +street. A few modest shops, the Blue Boar Inn, and a bow-windowed +house, with "Library" painted on it in large characters, were mixed up +with pleasant-looking dwelling houses. The little gray church was down +a country road, and did not look as though it belonged to the town, but +the schools were in High street. Beyond Roseberry were the great +rolling downs. + +We had left the tiny parade and the lodging houses behind us, and our +little omnibus seemed jolting over the beach--I believe they called it +a road but it was rough and stony, and seemed to lead to the shore. It +was quite a surprise when we drove sharply round a low rocky point, and +came upon a low gray cottage, with a little garden running down to the +beach. + +Truly a hermit's abode, the Brambles; not another house in sight; low, +white chalky cliffs, with the green downs above them, and, far as we +could see, a steep beach, with long fringes of yellow sands, with the +grey sea breaking softly in the distance, for it was low tide, and the +sun had set. + +"Is this too lonely for you, Esther?" asked Miss Ruth, as we walked up +the pebbly path to the porch. It was a deep stone porch, with seats on +either side, and its depth gave darkness to the little square hall, +with its stone fireplace and oak settles. + +"What a delicious place!" was my answer, as I followed her from one +room into another. The cottage was a perfect nest of cozy little rooms, +all very tiny, and leading into each other. + +There was a snug dining-room that led into Mr. Lucas' study, and beyond +that two little drawing-rooms, very small, and simply though prettily +furnished. They were perfect summer rooms, with their Indian matting +and muslin curtains, with wicker chairs and lounges, and brackets with +Miss Ruth's favorite china. + +Upstairs the arrangements were just as simple; not a carpet was to be +seen, only dark polishes floors and strips of Indian matting, cool +chintz coverings, and furniture of the simplest maple and pine wood--a +charming summer retreat, fitted up with unostentatious taste. There was +a tiny garden at the back, shut in by a low chalk cliff, a rough zigzag +path that goats might have climbed led to the downs, and there was a +breach where we could enjoy the sweet air and wide prospect. + +It was quite a cottage garden. All the old-fashioned flowers bloomed +there; little pink cabbage roses, Turks-caps, lilies, lupins, and +monkshood and columbines. Everlasting peas and scarlet-runners ran +along the wall, and wide-lipped convolvuli, scarlet weeds of poppies +flaunted beside the delicate white harebells, sweet-william and +gillyflowers, and humble southernwood, and homely pinks and fragrant +clove carnations, and pansies of every shade in purple and golden +patches. + +"Oh, Essie, it reminds me of our cottage; why, there are the lilies and +the beehives, and there is the porch where you said you should sit on +summer evenings and mend Allan's socks." And Dot leaned on his crutches +and looked round with bright wide-open eyes. + +Our little dream cottage; well, it was not unlike it, only the sea and +the downs and the low chalk cliffs were added. How Dot and I grew to +love that garden! There was an old medlar tree, very gnarled and +crooked, under which Miss Ruth used to place her little tea-table; the +wicker chairs were brought out and there we often used to spend our +afternoons, with little blue butterflies hovering round us, and the +bees humming among the sweet thyme and marjoram, and sometimes an +adventurous sheep looking down on us from the cliff. + +We led a perfect gypsy life at the Brambles; no one called on us, the +vicar of Roseberry was away, and a stranger had taken his duty; no +interloper from the outer world broke the peaceful monotony of our +days, and the sea kept up its plaintive music night and day, and the +larks sang to us, and the busy humming of insect life made an undertone +of melody, and in early mornings the little garden seemed steeped in +dew and fragrance. We used to rise early, and after breakfast Flurry +and I bathed. There was a little bathing-room beyond the cottage with a +sort of wooden bridge running over the beach, and there Flurry and I +would disport ourselves like mermaids. + +After a brisk run on the sands or over the downs, we joined Miss Ruth +on the beach, where we worked and talked, or helped the children build +sand-castles, and deck them with stone and sea-weeds. What treasures we +collected for Carrie's Sunday scholars; what stores of bright-colored +seaweed--or sea flowers, as Dot persisted in calling them--and heaps of +faintly-tinged shells! + +Flurry's doll family had accompanied us to the Brambles. "The poor dear +things wanted change of air!" Flurry had decided; and in spite of my +dissuasion, all the fair waxen creatures and their heterogeneous +wardrobe had been consigned to a vast trunk. + +Flurry's large family had given her infinite trouble when we settled +for our mornings on the beach. She traveled up and down the long stony +hillocks to the cottage until her little legs ached, to fetch the +twelve dolls. When they were all deposited in their white sun-bonnets +under a big umbrella, to save their complexions, which, +notwithstanding, suffered severely, then, and then only, would Flurry +join Dot on the narrow sands. + +Sometimes the tide rose, or a sudden shower came on, and then great was +the confusion. Once a receding wave carried out Corporal Trim, the most +unlucky of dolls, to sea. Flurry wrung her hands and wept so bitterly +over this disaster that Miss Ruth was quite frightened, and Flossy +jumped up and licked his little mistress' face and the faces of the +dolls by turns. + +"Oh, the dear thing is drownded," sobbed Flurry, as Corporal Trim +floundered hopelessly in the surge. Dot's soft heart was so moved by +her distress that he hobbled into the water, crutches and all, to my +infinite terror. + +"Don't cry. Flurry; I've got him by the hair of his head," shouted Dot, +valiantly shouldering the dripping doll. Flurry ran down the beach with +the tears still on her cheeks, and took the wretched corporal and +hugged him to her bosom. + +"Oh, my poor drownded Trim," cried Flurry tenderly, and a strange +procession formed to the cottage. Flurry with the poor victim in her +arms and Flossy jumping and barking delightedly round her, and +snatching at the wet rags; Dot, also, wet and miserable, toiling up the +beach on his crutches; Miss Ruth and I following with the eleven dolls. + +The poor corporal spent the rest of the day watching his own clothes +drying by the kitchen fire, where Dot kept him company; Flurry trotted +in and out, and petted them both. I am afraid Dot, being a boy, often +found the dolls a nuisance, and could have dispensed with their +company. There was a grand quarrel once when he flatly refused to carry +one. "I can't make believe to be a girl," said Dot, curling his lip +with infinite contempt. + +"We used to spend our afternoons in the garden. It was cooler than the +beach, and the shade of the old medlar was refreshing. We sometimes +read aloud to the children, but oftener they were working in their +little gardens, or playing with some tame rabbits that belonged to +Flurry. Dot always hobbled after Flurry wherever she went; he was her +devoted slave. Flurry sometimes treated him like one of her dolls, or +put on little motherly airs, in imitation of Miss Ruth. + +"You are tired, my dear boy; pray lean on me," we heard her once say, +propping him with her childish arm. "Sit down in the shade, you must +not heat yourself;" but Dot rather resented her care of him, after the +fashion of boys, but on the whole they suited each other perfectly. + +In the evenings we always walked over the downs or drove with Miss Ruth +in her pony carriage through the leafy lanes, or beside the yellow +cornfields. The children used to gather large nosegays of poppies and +cornflowers, and little pinky convolvuli. Sometimes we visited a +farmhouse where some people lived whom Miss Ruth knew. + +Once we stopped and had supper there, a homely meal of milk, and brown +bread, and cream cheese, with a golden honeycomb to follow, which we +ate in the farmyard kitchen. What an exquisite time we had there, +sitting in the low window seat, looking over a bright clover field. A +brood of little yellow chickens ran over the red-brick floor, a black +retriever and her puppies lay before the fire--fat black puppies with +blunt noses and foolish faces, turning over on their backs, and +blundering under every one's feet. + +Dot and Flurry went out to see the cows milked, and came back with long +stories of the dear little white, curly-tailed pigs. Flurry wrote to +her father the next day, and begged that he would buy her one for a +pet. Both she and Dot were indignant when he told them the little pig +they admired so much would become a great ugly sow like its mother. + +Mrs. Blake, the farmer's wife, took a great fancy to Dot, and begged +him to come again, which both the children promised her most earnestly +to do. They both carried off spoils of bright red apples to eat on the +way. + +It was almost dark when we drove home through the narrow lanes; the +hedgerows glimmered strangely in the dusk; a fresh sea-ladened wind +blew in our faces across the downs, the lights shone from the +Preventive station, and across the vague mist glimmered a star or two. +How fragrant and still it was, only the soft washing of the waves on +the beach to break the silence! + +Miss Ruth shivered a little as we rattled down the road leading to the +Brambles. Dorcas, mindful of her mistress' delicacy, had lighted a +little fire in the inner drawing-room, and had hot coffee waiting for +us. + +It looked so snug and inviting that the children left it reluctantly to +go to bed; but Miss Ruth was inexorable. This was our cozy hour; all +through the day we had to devote ourselves to the children--we used to +enjoy this quiet time to ourselves. Sometimes I wrote to mother or +Carrie, or we mutually took up our books; but oftener we sat and talked +as we did on this evening, until Nurse came to remind us of the +lateness of the hour. + +Mr. Lucas paid us brief visits; he generally came down on Saturday +evening and remained until Monday. Miss Ruth could never coax him to +stay longer; I think his business distracted him, and kept his trouble +at bay. In this quiet place he would have grown restless. He had bought +the Brambles to please his wife, and she, and not Miss Ruth, had +furnished it. They had spent happy summers there when Flurry was a +baby. The little garden had been a wilderness until then; every flower +had been planted by his wife, every room bore witness to her charming +taste. No wonder he regarded it with such mingled feelings of pain and +pleasure. + +Mr. Lucas made no difference to our simple routine. Miss Ruth and +Flurry used to drive to the little station to meet him, and bring him +back in triumph to the seven o'clock nondescript meal, that was neither +dinner nor tea, nor supper, but a compound of all. I used to go up with +the children after that meal, that he and Miss Ruth might enjoy their +chat undisturbed. When I returned to the drawing-room Miss Ruth was +invariably alone. + +"Giles has gone out for a solitary prowl," she would say; and he rarely +returned before we went upstairs. Miss Ruth knew his habits, and seldom +waited up to say good-night to him. + +"He likes better to be alone when he is in this mood," she would say +sometimes. Her tact and cleverness in managing him were wonderful; she +never seemed to watch him, she never let him feel that his morbid fits +were noticed and humored, but all the same she knew when to leave him +alone, and when to talk to him; she could be his bright companion, or +sit silently beside him for hours. On Sunday mornings Mr. Lucas always +accompanied us to church, and in the afternoon he sat with the children +on the beach. Dot soon got very fond of him, and would talk to him in +his fearless way, about anything that came into his head; Miss Ruth +sometimes joined them, but I always went apart with my book. + +Mr. Lucas was so good to me that I could not bear to hamper him in the +least by my presence; with grown-up people he was a little stiff and +reserved, but with children he was his true self. + +Flurry doted on her father, and Dot told me in confidence that "he was +the nicest man he had ever known except Uncle Geoffrey." + +I could not hear their talk from my nest in the cliff, but I am afraid +Dot's chief occupation was to hunt the little scurrying crabs into a +certain pool he had already fringed with seaweed. I could see him and +Flurry carrying the big jelly-fishes, and floating them carefully. They +had left their spades and buckets at home, out of respect for the +sacredness of the day; but neither Flurry's clean white frock nor Dot's +new suit hindered them from scooping out the sand with their hands, and +making rough and ready ramparts to keep in their prey. + +Mr. Lucas used to lie on the beach with his straw hat over his eyes, +and watch their play, and pet Flossy. When he was tired of inaction he +used to call to the children, and walk slowly and thought fully on. +Flurry used to run after him. + +"Oh, do wait for Dot, father," she would plead; nothing would induce +her to leave her infirm and halting little playfellow. One day, when +Mr. Lucas was impatient of his slow progress, I saw him shoulder him, +crutches and all, and march off with him, Dot clapping his hands and +shouting with delight. That was the only time I followed them; but I +was so afraid Dot was a hindrance, and wanted to capture him, I walked +quite a mile before I met them coming back. + +Mr. Lucas was still carrying Dot; Flurry was trotting beside him, and +pretending to use Dot's crutches. + +"We have been ever so far, Essie," screamed Dot when he caught sight of +me. "We have seen lots of seagulls, and a great cave where the +smugglers used to hide." + +"Oh, Dot, you must not let Mr. Lucas carry you," I said, holding out my +arms to relieve him of his burden. "You must stay with me, and I will +tell you a story." + +"He is happier up here, aren't you, Frankie boy?" returned Mr. Lucas, +cheerfully. + +"Oh, but he will tire you," I faltered. + +"Tire me, this little bundle of bones!" peeping at Dot over his +shoulder; "why, I could walk miles with him. Don't trouble yourself +about him, Miss Esther. We understand each other perfectly." + +And then he left me, walking with long, easy strides over the uneven +ground, with Flurry running to keep up with him. + +They used to go on the downs after tea, and sit on the little green +beach, while Miss Ruth and I went to church. + +Miss Ruth never would use her pony carriage on Sunday. A boy used to +draw her in a wheel-chair. She never stayed at home unless she was +compelled to do so. I never knew any one enjoy the service more, or +enter more fully into it. + +No matter how out of tune the singing might be, she always joined in it +with a fervor that quite surprised me. "Depend upon it, Esther," she +used to say, "it is not the quality of our singing that matters but how +much our heart joins with the choir. Perfect praise and perfect music +cannot be expected here; but I like to think old Betty's cracked voice, +when she joins in the hymns, is as sweet to angels' ears as our younger +notes." + +The children always waited up for us on Sunday evening, and afterward +Miss Ruth would sing with them; sometimes Mr. Lucas would walk up and +down the gravel paths listening to them, but oftener I could catch the +red light of his cigar from the cliff seat. + +I wonder what sad thoughts came to him as the voices floated out to +him, mixed up with the low ripple of waves on the sand. + +"Where loyal hearts and true"--they were singing that, I remember; +Flurry in her childish treble. And Flurry's mother, lying in her quiet +grave--did the mother in paradise, I wonder, look down from her starry +place on her little daughter singing her baby hymn, and on that lonely +man, listening from the cliff seat in the darkness? + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. + + +The six weeks passed only too rapidly, but Dot and I were equally +delighted when Miss Ruth petitioned for a longer extension of absence, +to which dear mother returned a willing consent. + +A little note was enclosed for me in Miss Ruth's letter. + +"Make your mind quite easy, my dear child," she wrote, "we are getting +on very well, and really Jack is improving, and does all sorts of +little things to help me; she keeps her room tidier, and I have not had +to find fault with her for a week. + +"We do not see much of Carrie; she comes home looking very pale and +fagged; your uncle grumbles sometimes, but I tell him words are wasted, +the Smedley influence is stronger than ever. + +"But you need not think I am dull, though I do miss my bright, cheery +Esther, and my darling Frankie. Jack and I have nice walks, and Uncle +Geoffrey takes me sometimes on his rounds, and two or three times Mr. +Lucas has sent the carriage to take us into the country; he says the +horses need exercise, now his sister is away, but I know it is all his +kindness and thought for us. I will willingly spare you a little +longer, and am only thankful that the darling boy is deriving so much +benefit from the sea air." + +Dear, unselfish mother, always thinking first of her children's +interest, and never of her own wishes; and yet I could read between the +lines, and knew how she missed us, especially Dot, who was her constant +companion. + +But it was really the truth that the sea air was doing Dot good. He +complained less of his back, and went faster and faster on his little +crutches; the cruel abscesses had not tried him for months, and now it +seemed to me that the thin cheeks were rounding out a little. He looked +so sunburned and rosy, that I wished mother could have seen him. It was +only the color of a faintly-tinged rose, but all the same it was +wonderful for Dot. We had had lovely weather for our holiday; but at +the beginning of September came a change. About a week after mother's +letter had arrived, heavy storms of wind and rain raged round the coast. + +Miss Ruth and Dot were weather-bound, neither of them had strength to +brave the boisterous wind; but Flurry and I would tie down our hats +with our veils and run down the parade for a blow. It used to be quite +empty and deserted; only in the distance we could see the shiny hat of +the Preventive man, as he walked up and down with his telescope. + +I used to hold Flurry tightly by the hand, for I feared she would be +blown off her feet. Sometimes we were nearly drenched and blinded with +the salt spray. + +The sea looked so gray and sullen, with white curling waves leaping up +against the sea wall; heaps of froth lay on the parade, and even on the +green enclosure in the front of the houses. People said it was the +highest tide they had known for years. + +Once I was afraid to take Flurry out, and ran down to the beach alone. +I had to plant my feet firmly in the shingles, for I could hardly stand +against the wind. What a wild, magnificent scene it was, a study in +browns and grays, a strange colorless blending of faint tints and +uncertain shading. + +As the waves receded there was a dark margin of heaped-up seaweed along +the beach, the tide swept in masses of tangled things, the surge broke +along the shore with a voice like thunder, great foamy waves leaped up +in curling splendor and then broke to pieces in the gray abyss. The sky +was as gray as the sea; not a living thing was in sight except a lonely +seagull. I could see the gleam of the firelight through one of the +windows of the cottage. It looked so warm and snug. The beach was high +and dry round me, but a little beyond the Brambles the tide flowed up +to the low cliffs. Most people would have shivered in such a scene of +desolation, for the seagull and I had it all to ourselves, but the +tumult of the wind and waves only excited me. I felt wild with spirits, +and could have shouted in the exuberance of my enjoyment. + +I could have danced in my glee, as the foamy snowflakes fell round me, +and my face grew stiff and wet with the briny air. The white manes of +the sea-horses arched themselves as they swept to their destruction. +How the wind whistled and raved, like a hunted thing! "They that go +down to the sea in ships, and do their business in the deep waters," +those words seemed to flash to me across the wild tumult, and I thought +of all the wonders seen by the mariners of old. + +"Oh, Esther, how can you be so adventurous?" exclaimed Miss Ruth, as I +thrust a laughing face and wet waterproof into the room; she and the +children were sitting round the fire. + +"Oh, it was delicious," I returned. "It intoxicated me like new wine; +you cannot imagine the mighty duet of the sea and wind, the rolling +sullen bass, and the shrill crescendo." + +"It must have been horrible," she replied, with a little shiver. The +wild tempestuous weather depressed her; the loud discordance of the +jarring elements seemed to fret the quiet of her spirit. + +"You are quite right," she said to me as we sat alone that evening, +"this sort of weather disturbs my tranquillity; it makes me restless +and agitates my nerves. Last night I could not sleep; images of terror +blended with my waking thoughts. I seemed to see great ships driving +before the wind, and to hear the roaring of breakers and crashing of +timbers against cruel rocks; and when I closed my eyes, it was only to +see the whitened bones of mariners lying fathoms deep among green +tangled seaweed." + +"Dear Miss Ruth, no wonder you look pale and depressed after such a +night. Would you like me to sleep with you? the wind seems to act on me +like a lullaby. I felt cradled in comfort last night." + +"You are so strong," she said, with a little sadness in her voice. "You +have no nerves, no diseased sensibilities; you do not dread the evils +you cannot see, the universe does not picture itself to you in dim +terrors." + +"Why, no," I returned, wonderingly, for such suggestions were new to me. + +"Sleep your happy sleep, my dear," she said, tenderly, "and thank God +for your perfect health, Esther. I dozed a little myself toward +morning, before the day woke in its rage, and then I had a horrible +sort of dream, a half-waking scare, bred of my night-terrors. + +"I thought I was tossing like a dead leaf in the gale; the wind had +broken bounds, and carried me away bodily. Now I was lying along the +margin of waves, and now swept in wide circles in the air. + +"The noise was maddening. The air seemed full of shrieks and cries, as +though the universe were lost and bewailing itself, 'Lamentation and +mourning and woe,' seemed written upon the lurid sky and sea. I thought +of those poor lovers in Dante's 'Inferno,' blown like spectral leaves +before the infernal winds of hell; but I was alone in this tumultuous +torrent. + +"I felt myself sinking at last into the dim, choking surge--it was +horribly real, Esther--and then some one caught me by the hair and drew +me out, and the words came to me, 'for so He bringeth them to the haven +where they would be.'" + +"How strange!" I exclaimed in an awed tone, for Miss Ruth's face was +pale, and there was a touch of sadness in her voice. + +"It was almost a vision of one's life," she returned, slowly; "we drift +hither and thither, blown by many a gust of passion over many an unseen +danger. If we be not engulfed, it is because the Angel of His +Providence watches over us; 'drawn out of many waters,' how many a life +history can testify of that!" + +"We have our smooth days as well," I returned, cheerfully, "when the +sun shines, and there are only ripples on the waters." + +"That is in youth," she replied; "later on the storms must come, and +the wise mariner will prepare himself to meet them. We must not always +be expecting fair weather. Do you not remember the lines of my favorite +hymn: + + "'And oh, the joy upon that shore + To tell our shipwrecked voyage o'er.' + +"Really, I think one of the great pleasures in heaven will be telling +the perils we have been through, and how He has brought us home at +last." + +Miss Ruth would not let me sleep with her that night; but to my great +relief, for her pale, weary looks made me anxious, the wind abated, and +toward morning only the breaking surge was heard dashing along the +shore. + +"I have rested better," were the first words when we met, "but that one +night's hurly-burly has wrecked me a little," which meant that she was +only fit for bed. + +But she would not hear of giving up entirely, so I drew her couch to +the fire, and wrapped her up in shawls and left Dot to keep her +company, while Flurry and I went out. In spite of the lull the sea was +still very unquiet, and the receding tide gave us plenty of amusement, +and we spent a very happy morning. In the afternoon, Miss Ruth had some +errands for me to do in the town--wools to match, and books to change +at the library, after which I had to replenish our exhausted store of +note-paper. + +It was Saturday, and we had decided the pony carriage must go alone to +the station to meet Mr. Lucas. He generally arrived a little before +six, but once he had surprised us walking in with his portmanteau, just +as we were starting for our afternoon's walk. Flurry begged hard to +accompany me; but Miss Ruth thought she had done enough, and wished her +to play with Dot in the dining-room at some nice game. I was rather +sorry at Miss Ruth's decision, for I saw Flurry was in one of her +perverse moods. They occurred very seldom, but gave me a great deal of +trouble to overcome them. She could be very naughty on such occasions, +and do a vast amount of mischief. Flurry's break-outs, as I called +them, were extremely tiresome, as Nurse Gill and I knew well. I was +very disinclined to trust Dot in her company, for her naughtiness would +infect him, and even the best of children can be troublesome sometimes. +Flurry looked very sulky when I asked her what game they meant to play, +and I augured badly from her toss of the head and brief replies. She +was hugging Flossie on the window-seat, and would not give me her +attention, so I turned to Dot and begged him to be a good boy and not +to disturb Miss Ruth, but take care of Flurry. + +Dot answered amiably, and I ran off, determining to be back as soon as +I could. I wished Nurse Gill could sit with the children and keep them +in good temper, but she was at work in Miss Ruth's room and could not +come down. + +My errands took longer than I thought; wool matching is always a +troublesome business, and the books Miss Ruth wanted were out, and I +had to select others; it was more than an hour before I set off for +home, and then I met Nurse Gill, who wanted some brass rings for the +curtains she was making, and had forgotten to ask me to get them. + +The wind was rising again, and I was surprised to find Miss Ruth in the +porch with her handkerchief tied over her head, and Dorcas running down +the garden path. + +"Have you seen them, Miss Esther?" asked the girl, anxiously. + +"Who--what do you mean?" I inquired. + +"Miss Florence and Master Dot; we have been looking for them +everywhere. I was taking a cup of tea just now to mistress, and she +asked me to go into the dining-room, as the children seemed so quiet; +but they were not there, and Betty and I have searched the house and +garden over, and we cannot find them." + +"Oh, Esther, come here," exclaimed Miss Ruth in agony, for I was +standing still straining my eyes over the beach to catch a glimpse of +them. "I am afraid I was very wrong to send you out, and Giles will be +here presently, and Dorcas says Dot's hat is missing from the peg, and +Flurry's sealskin hat and jacket." + +Dot out in this wind! I stood aghast at the idea, but the next moment I +took Miss Ruth's cold little hands in mine. + +"You must not stand here," I said firmly; "come into the drawing-room, +I will talk to you there, and you too, Dorcas. No, I have not seen +them," as Miss Ruth yielded to my strong grasp, and stood shivering and +miserable on the rug. "I came past the Preventive station and down the +parade, and they were not there." + +"Could they have followed Nurse Gill?" struck in Dorcas. + +"No, for I met her just now, and she was alone. I hardly think they +would go to the town. Dot never cared for the shops, or Flurry either. +Perhaps they might be hidden in one of the bathing machines. Oh, Miss +Ruth," with an access of anxiety in my voice, "Dot is so weakly, and +this strong wind will blow him down; it must be all Flurry's +naughtiness, for nothing would have induced him to go out unless she +made him." + +"What are we to do?" she replied, helplessly. This sudden terror had +taken away her strength, she looked so ill. I thought a moment before I +replied. + +"Let Dorcas go down to the bathing machines," I said, at last, "and she +can speak to the Preventive man; and if you do not mind being alone, +Miss Ruth, and you must promise to lie down and keep quiet, Betty might +go into the town and find Nurse Gill. I will just run along the beach +and take a look all around." + +"Yes, do," she returned. "Oh, my naughty, naughty Flurry!" almost +wringing her hands. + +"Don't frighten yourself beforehand," I said, kissing her and speaking +cheerfully, though I did feel in a state about Dot; and what would +mother and Mr. Lucas say? "I daresay Dorcas or I will bring them back +in a few minutes, and then won't they get a scolding!" + +"Oh, no; I shall be too happy to scold them," she returned, with a +faint smile, for my words put fresh heart in her, and she would follow +us into the porch and stand looking after us. + +I scrambled over the shingles as fast as I could, for the wind was +rising, and I was afraid it would soon grow dusk. Nothing was in sight; +the whole shore was empty and desolate--fearfully desolate, even to my +eyes. + +It was no use going on, I thought; they must be hiding in the bathing +machines after all. And I was actually turning round when something +gray on the beach attracted my attention, and I picked it up. To my +horror, it was one of Dot's woolen mittens that mother had knitted for +him, and which he had worn that very afternoon. + +I was on their track, after all. I was sure of it now; but when I +lifted my eyes and saw the dreary expanse of shore before me, a blank +feeling of terror took possession of me. They were not in sight! +Nothing but cloudy skies and low chalky cliffs, and the surge breaking +on the shingles. + +All at once a thought that was almost an inspiration flashed across +me--the smugglers' cave! Flurry was always talking about it; it had +taken a strong hold of her imagination, and both she and Dot had been +wild to explore it, only Miss Ruth had never encouraged the idea. She +thought caves were damp, dreary places, and not fit for delicate +children. Flurry must have tempted Dot to accompany her on this +exploring expedition. I was as convinced of the fact as though I had +overheard the children's conversation. She would coax and cajole him +until his conscience was undermined. How could he have dragged himself +so far on his crutches? for the cave was nearly half a mile away from +where I stood, and the wind was rising fearfully. And now an icy chill +of terror came over me from head to foot--the tide was advancing! It +had already covered the narrow strip of sand; in less than an hour it +would reach the cliffs, for the shore curved a little beyond the +cottage, and with the exception of the beach before the Brambles, the +sea covered the whole of the shingles. + +I shall never, to my dying day, forget that moment's agony when my mind +first grasped the truth of the deadly peril those thoughtless babes had +incurred. Without instant help, those little children must be drowned, +for the water flowed into the cave. Even now it might be too late. All +these thoughts whirled through my brain in an instant. + +Only for a moment I paused and cast one despairing glance round me. The +cottage was out of sight. Nurse Gill, and Dorcas, and Betty were +scouring the town; no time to run back for help, no hope of making +one's voice heard with the wind whistling round me. + +"Oh, my God! help me to save these children!" I cried, with a sob that +almost choked me. And then I dashed like a mad thing toward the shore. + +My despair gave me courage, but my progress was difficult and slow. It +was impossible to keep up that pace over the heavy shingles with the +wind tearing round me and taking away my breath. + +Several times I had to stand and collect my energies, and each time I +paused I called the children's names loudly. But, alas! the wind and +the sea swallowed up the sound. + +How fast the tide seemed coming up! The booming of the breakers sounded +close behind me. I dared not look--I dared not think. I fought and +buffeted the wind, and folded my cloak round me. + +"Out of the depth I have cried unto Thee." Those were the words I said +over and over to myself. + +I had reached the cave at last, and leaned gasping and nearly faint +with terror before I began searching in its dim recesses. + +Great masses of slimy seaweed lay heaped up at the entrance; a faint +damp odor pervaded it. The sudden roar of wind and sea echoed in dull +hollowness, but here at least my voice could be heard. + +"Flurry-Dot!" I screamed. I could hear my own wild shriek dying away +through the cave. To my delight, two little voices answered: + +"Here we are Esther! Come along, we are having such a game! Flurry is +the smuggler, and I am the Preventive man, and Flossy is my dog, +and--oh, dear! what is the matter?" And Dot, who had hobbled out of a +snug, dry little corner near the entrance, looked up with frightened +eyes as I caught him and Flurry in my arms. I suppose my face betrayed +my fears, for I could not at that moment gasp out another word. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +A LONG NIGHT. + + +"What is the matter, Essie?" cried Dot, piteously, as I held him in +that tight embrace without speaking. "We were naughty to come, yes, I +know, but you said I was to take care of Flurry, and she would come. I +did not like it, for the wind was so cold and rough, and I fell twice +on the shingles; but it is nice here, and we were having such a famous +game." + +"Esther is going to be cross and horrid because we ran away, but father +will only laugh," exclaimed Flurry, with the remains of a frown on her +face. She knew she was in the wrong and meant to brave it out. + +Oh, the poor babes, playing their innocent games with Death waiting for +them outside! + +"Come, there is not an instant to lose," I exclaimed, catching up Dot +in my arms; he was very little and light, and I thought we could get on +faster so, and perhaps if the sea overtook us they would see us and put +out a boat from the Preventive station. "Come, come," I repeated, +snatching Flurry's hand, for she resisted a little: but when I reached +the mouth of the cave she uttered a loud cry, and tugged fiercely at my +hand to get free. + +"Oh, the sea, the dreadful sea!" she exclaimed, hiding her face; "it is +coming up! Look at the waves--we shall be drownded!" + +I could feel Dot shiver in my arms, but he did not speak, only his +little hands clung round my neck convulsively. Poor children! their +punishment had already begun. + +"We shall be drowned if you don't make haste," I returned, trying to +speak carefully, but my teeth chattered in spite of myself. "Come, +Flurry, let us run a race with the waves; take hold of my cloak, for I +want my hands free for Dot." I had dropped his crutches in the cave; +they were no use to him--he could not have moved a step in the teeth of +this wind. + +Poor Flurry began to cry bitterly, but she had confidence in my +judgment, and an instinct of obedience made her grasp my cloak, and so +we commenced our dangerous pilgrimage. I could only move slowly with +Dot; the wind was behind us, but it was terribly fierce. Flurry fell +twice, and picked herself up sobbing; the horrors of the scene utterly +broke down her courage, and she threw her arms round me frantically and +prayed me to go back. + +"The waves are nearly touching us!" she shrieked; and then Dot, +infected by her terrors, began to cry loudly too. "We shall be +drownded, all of us, and it is getting dark, and I won't go, I won't +go!" screamed the poor child trying to push me back with her feeble +force. + +Then despair took possession of me; we might have done it if Flurry had +not lost all courage; the water would not have been high enough to +drown us; we could have waded through it, and they would have seen us +from the cottage and come to our help. I would have saved them; I knew +I could; but in Flurry's frantic state it was impossible. Her eyes +dilated with terror, a convulsive trembling seized her. Must we go back +to the cave, and be drowned like rats in a hole? The idea was horrible, +and yet it went far back. Perhaps there was some corner or ledge of +rock where we might be safe; but to spend the night in such a place! +the idea made me almost as frantic as Flurry. Still, it was our only +chance, and we retraced our steps but still so slowly and painfully +that the spray of the advancing waves wetted our faces, and +beyond--ah!--I shut my eyes and struggled on, while Flurry hid her head +in the folds of my cloak. + +We gained the smugglers' cave, and then I put down Dot, and bade him +pick up his crutchers and follow me close, while I explored the cave. +It was very dark, and Flurry began to cry afresh, and would not let go +of my hand; but Dot shouldered his crutches, and walked behind us as +well as he could. + +At each instant my terror grew. It was a large winding cave, but the +heaps of seaweed everywhere, up to the very walls, proved that the +water filled the cavern. I became hysterical too. I would not stay to +be drowned there, I muttered between my chattering teeth; drowned in +the dark, and choked with all that rotten garbage! Better take the +children in either hand, and go out and meet our fate boldly. I felt my +brain turning with the horror, when all at once I caught sight of a +rough broken ledge of rock, rising gradually from the back of the cave. +Seaweed hung in parts high up, but it seemed to me in the dim twilight +there was a portion of the rock bare; if so, the sea did not cover +it--we might find a dry foothold. + +"Let go my hand a moment, Flurry," I implored; "I think I see a little +place where we may be safe. I will be back in a moment, dear." But +nothing could induce her to relax her agonized grasp of my cloak. I had +to argue the point. "The water comes all up here wherever the seaweed, +is," I explained. "You think we are safe, Flurry, but we can be drowned +where we stand; the sea fills the cave." But at this statement Flurry +only screamed the louder and clung closer. Poor child! she was beside +herself with fright. + +So I said to Dot: + +"My darling is a boy, and boys are not so frightened as girls; so you +will stay here quietly while Flurry and I climb up there, and Flossy +shall keep you company." + +"Don't be long," he implored, but he did not say another word. Dear, +brave little heart, Dot behaved like a hero that day. He then stooped +down and held Flossy, who whined to follow us. I I think the poor +animal knew our danger, for he shivered and cowered down in evident +alarm, and I could hear Dot coaxing him. + +It was very slippery and steep, and I crawled up with difficulty, with +Flurry clambering after me, and holding tightly to my dress. Dot +watched us wistfully as we went higher and higher, leaving him and +Flossy behind. The seaweed impeded us, but after a little while we came +to a bare piece of rock jutting out over the cave, with a scooped-out +corner where all of us could huddle, and it seemed to me as though the +shelf went on for a yard or two beyond it. We were above water-mark +there; we should be quite safe, and a delicious glimmer of hope came +over me. + +I had great difficulty in inducing Flurry to stay behind while I +crawled down for Dot. She was afraid to be alone in that dark place, +with the hollow booming of wind and waves echoing round her; but I told +her sternly that Dot and Flossy would be drowned and then she let me go. + +Dot was overjoyed to welcome me back, and then I lifted him up and bade +him crawl slowly on his hands and knees, while I followed with his +crutches, and Flossy crept after us, shivering and whining for us to +take him up. As we toiled up the broken ledge it seemed to grow darker, +and we could hardly see each other's faces if we tried, only the splash +of the first entering wave warned me that the sea would soon have been +upon us. + +I was giddy and breathless by the time we reached the nook where Flurry +was, and then we crept into the corner, the children clasping each +other across me, and Flossy on my lap licking our faces alternately. +Saved from a horrible death! For a little while I could do nothing but +weep helplessly over the children and thank God for a merciful +deliverance. + +As soon as the first hysterical outburst of emotion was over, I did my +best to make the children as comfortable as I could under such forlorn +circumstances. I knew Flurry's terror of darkness, and I could well +imagine how horribly the water would foam and splash beneath us, and I +must try and prevent them from seeing it. + +I made Dot climb into my lap, for I thought the hard rock would make +his poor back ache, and I could keep him from being chilled; and then I +induced Flurry to creep under my heavy waterproof cloak--how thankful I +was I put it on!--and told her to hold Flossy in her arms, for the +little creature's soft fur would be warm and comfortable; and then I +fastened the cloak together, buttoning it until it formed a little tent +above them. Flurry curled her feet into my dress and put her head on my +shoulder, and she and Dot held each other fast across me, and Flossy +rolled himself up into a warm ball and went to sleep. Poor little +creatures! They began to forget their sorrows a little, until Flurry +suddenly recollected that it was tea-time, and her father had arrived; +and then she began crying again softly. + +"I'm so hungry," she sobbed; "aren't you Dot?" + +"Yes, but I don't mean to mind it," returned Dot, manfully. "Essie is +hungry too." And he put up his hand and stroked my neck softly. The +darling, he knew how I suffered, and would not add to my pain by +complaining. + +I heard him say to Flurry in a whisper, "It is all our fault; we ought +to be punished for running away; but Essie has done nothing wrong. I +thought God meant to drown us, as He did the disobedient people." But +this awful reminder of her small sins was too much for Flurry. + +"I did not mean to be wicked," she wailed. "I thought it would be such +fun to play at smugglers in the cave, and Aunt Ruth and Esther never +would let me." + +"Yes, and I begged you not to run away, and you would," retorted Dot in +an admonishing tone. "I did not want come, too, because it was so cold, +and the wind blew so; but I promised Essie to take care of you, so I +went. I think you were quite as bad as the people whom God drowned, +because they would not be good and mind Noah." + +"But I don't want to be drowned," responded Flurry, tearfully. "Oh, +dear, Dot, don't say such dreadful things! I am good now, and I will +never, never disobey auntie again. Shall we say our prayers, Dot, and +ask God not to be so very angry, and then perhaps He will send some one +to take us out of this dark, dreadful place?" + +Dot approved of this idea, and they began repeating their childish +petitions together, but my mind strayed away when I tried to join them. + +Oh, how dark and desolate it was! I shivered and clasped the children +closer to me as the hollow moaning of the waves reverberated through +the cavern. Every minute the water was rising; by-and-by the spray must +wet us even in our sheltered corner. Would the children believe me when +I told them we were safe? Would not Flurry's terrors return at the +first touch of the cold spray? The darkness and the noise and the +horror were almost enough to turn her childish brain; they were too +much for my endurance. + +"Oh, heavens!" I cried to myself, "must we really spend a long, hideous +night in this place? We are safe! safe!" I repeated; but still it was +too horrible to think of wearing out the long, slow hours in such +misery. + +It was six now; the tide would not turn until three in the morning; it +had been rising for three hours now; it would not be possible to leave +the cave and make our way by the cliff for an hour after that. Ten +hours--ten long, crawling hours to pass in this cramped position! I +thought of dear mother's horror if she knew of our peril, and then I +thought of Allan, and a lump came in my throat. + +Mr. Lucas would be scouring the coast in search of us. What a night for +the agonized father to pass! And poor, fragile Miss Ruth, how would she +endure such hours of anxiety? I could have wrung my hands and moaned +aloud at the thought of their anguish, but for the children--the poor +children who were whispering their baby prayers together; that kept me +still. Perhaps they might be even now at the mouth of the cave, seeking +and calling to us. A dozen times I imagined I could hear the splash of +oars and the hoarse cries of the sailors; but how could our feeble +voices reach them in the face of the shrieking wind? No one would think +of the smugler's cave, for it was but one of many hollowed out of the +cliff. They would search for us, but very soon they would abandon it in +despair; they knew I had gone to seek the children; most likely I had +been too late, and the rising tide had engulfed us, and swept us far +out to sea. Miss Ruth would think of her dreams and tremble, and the +wretched father would sit by her, stunned and helpless, waiting for the +morning to break and bring him proof of his despair. + +The tears ran down my cheeks as these sad thoughts passed through my +mind, and a strong inward cry for deliverance, for endurance, for some +present comfort in this awful misery, shook my frame with convulsive +shudders. Dot felt them, and clasped me tighter, and Flurry trembled in +sympathy; my paroxysm disturbed them, but my prayer was heard, and the +brief agony passed. + +I thought of Jeremiah in his dungeon, of Daniel in the lions' den, of +the three children in the fiery furnace, and the Form that was like the +Son of God walking with them in the midst of the flames; and I knew and +felt that we were as safe on that rocky shelf, with the dark, raging +waters below us, as though we were by our own bright hearth fire at +home; then my trembling ceased, and I recovered voice to talk to the +children. + +I wanted them to go to sleep; but Flurry said, in a lamentable voice, +that she was too hungry, and the sea made such a noise; so I told them +about Shadrach, Meshech, and Abednego; and after I had finished that, +all the Bible stories I could remember of wonderful deliverance; and +by-and-by we came to the storm on the Galilean lake. + +Flurry leaned heavily against me. "Oh, it is getting colder," she +gasped; "Flossy keeps my hands warm, and the cloak is thick, and yet I +can't help shivering." And I could feel Dot shiver, too. "The water +seems very near us, I wish I did not feel afraid of it Esther," she +whispered, after another minute; but I pretended not to hear her. + +"Yes, it is cold, but not so cold as those disciples must have felt," I +returned; "they were in a little open boat, Flurry, and the water +dashed right over them, and the vessel rocked dreadfully"--here I +paused--"and it was dark, for Jesus was not yet come to them." + +"I wish He would come now," whispered Dot. + +"That is what the disciples wished, and all the time they little knew +that He was on His way to them, and watching them toiling against the +wind, and that very soon the wind would cease, and they would be safe +on the shore. We do not like being in this dark cave, do we, Flurry +darling? And the sea keeps us awake; but He knows that, and He is +watching us; and by-and-by, when the morning comes, we shall have light +and go home." + +Flurry said "Yes," sleepily, for in spite of the cold and hunger she +was getting drowsy; it must have been long past her bedtime. We had sat +on our dreary perch three hours, and there were six more to wait. I +noticed that the sound of my voice tranquillized the children; so I +repeated hymns slowly and monotonously until they nodded against me and +fell into weary slumbers. "Thank God!" I murmured when I perceived +this, and I leaned back against the rock, and tried to close my eyes; +but they would keep opening and staring into the darkness. It was not +black darkness--I do not think I could have borne that; a sort of murky +half-light seemed reflected from the water, or from somewhere, and +glimmered strangely from a background of inky blackness. + +It was bitterly cold now; my feet felt numbed, and the spray wetted and +chilled my face. I dared not move my arm from Dot, he leaned so heavily +against it, and Flurry's head was against him. She had curled herself +up like Flossy, and I had one hand free, only I could not disentangle +it from the cloak. I dared not change my cramped position, for fear of +waking them. I was too thankful for their brief oblivion. If I could +only doze for a few moments; if I could only shut out the black waters +for a minute! The tumults of my thoughts were indescribable. My whole +life seemed to pass before me; every childish folly, every girlish +error and sin, seemed to rise up before me; conversations I had +forgotten, little incidents of family life, dull or otherwise; speeches +I had made and repented, till my head seemed whirling. It must be +midnight now, I thought. If I could only dare; but a new terror kept me +wide awake. In spite of my protecting arms, would not Dot suffer from +the damp chilliness? He shivered in his sleep, and Flurry moaned and +half woke, and then slept again. I was growing so numbed and cramped +that I doubted my endurance for much longer. Dot seemed growing +heavier, and there was the weight of Flurry and Flossy. If I could only +stretch myself! And then I nearly cried out, for a sudden flash seemed +to light the cavern. One instant, and it was gone; but that second +showed a grewsome scene--damp, black walls, with a frothing turbulous +water beneath them, and hanging arches exuding moisture. Darkness +again. From whence had that light flashed? As I asked myself the +question it came again, startling me with its sudden brilliancy; and +this time it was certainly from some aperture overhead, and a little +beyond where we sat. + +Gone again, and this time utterly; but not before I caught a glimpse of +the broad rocky shelf beyond us. The light had flashed down not a dozen +yards from where we stood; it must have been a lantern; if so, they +were still seeking us, this time on the cliffs. It was only midnight, +and there were still four weary hours to wait, and every moment I was +growing more chilled and numbed. I began to dread the consequences to +myself as well as to the children. If I could only crawl along the +shelf and explore, perhaps there might be some opening to the cliff. I +had not thought of this before, until the light brought the idea to my +mind. + +I perceived, too, that the glimmering half-light came from above, and +not from the mouth of the cave. For a moment the fear of losing my +balance and falling back into the water daunted me, and kept me from +moving; but the next minute I felt I must attempt it. I unfastened my +cloak and woke Dot softly, and then whispered to him that I was cramped +and in pain, and must move up and down the platform; and he understood +me, and crawled sleepily off my lap; then I lifted Flurry with +difficulty, for she moaned and whimpered at my touch. + +My numbness was so great I could hardly move my limbs; but I crawled +across Flurry somehow, and saw Dot creep into my place, and covered +them with my cloak; and then I commenced to move slowly and carefully +on my hands and knees up the rocky path. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +"YOU BRAVE GIRL!" + + +They told me afterward that this was a daring feat, and fraught with +awful peril, for in that painful groping in the darkness I might have +lost my balance and fallen back into the water. + +I was conscious of this at the time; but we cannot die until our hour +is come, and in youth one's faith is more simple and trusting; to pray +is to be heard, to grasp more tightly by the mantle of His Providence, +so I committed myself to Heaven, and crept slowly along the face of the +rock. In two or three minutes I felt cold air blowing down upon my +face, and, raising myself cautiously, I found I was standing under an +aperture, large enough for me to crawl through, which led to the downs. +For one moment I breathed the fresh night air and caught the glimmer of +starlight, and then I crept back to the children. + +Flurry was awake and weeping piteously, and Dot was trying to comfort +her in a sleepy voice; but she was quiet the moment I told them about +the hole. + +"I must leave you behind, Dot," I said, sorrowfully, "and take Flurry +first;" and the brave little fellow said: + +"All right, Essie," and held back the dog, who was whining to follow. + +I put my arm round Flurry, and made her promise not to lose hold of the +rock. The poor child was dreadfully frightened, and stopped every now +and then, crying out in horror that she was falling into the water, but +I held her fast and coaxed her to go on again; and all the time the +clammy dews of terror stood on my forehead. Never to my dying day shall +I forget those terrible moments. + +But we were mercifully preserved, and to my joy I felt the winds of +heaven blowing round us, and in another moment Flurry had crawled +through the hole in the rock, and was sitting shivering on the grass. + +"Now I must go back for Dot and Flossy," I exclaimed; but as I spoke +and tried to disengage myself from Flurry's nervous grasp, I heard a +little voice below. + +"I am here, Essie, and I have got Flossy all safe. Just stoop down and +take him, and then I shall clamber up all right." + +"Oh, my darling, how could you?" The courageous child had actually +dragged himself with the dog under one arm all along the dangerous +path, to spare me another journey. + +I could scarcely speak, but I covered his cold little face with kisses +as he tottered painfully into my arms--my precious boy, my brave, +unselfish Dot! + +"I could not bring the crutches or the cloak, Essie," he whispered. + +"Never mind them," I replied, with a catch in my voice. "You are safe; +we are all safe--that is all I can take in. I must carry you, Dot, and +Flurry shall hold my dress, and we shall soon be home." + +"Where is your hat, Essie?" he asked, putting up his hand to my hair. +It was true I was bareheaded, and yet I had never missed it. My cloak +lay below in the cavern. What a strange sight I must have presented if +any one could have seen us! My hair was blowing loosely about my face; +my dress seemed to cling round my feet. + +How awfully dark and desolate the downs looked under that dim, starry +light. Only the uncertain glimmer enabled me to keep from the cliffs or +discern the right path. The heavy booming of the sea and the wind +together drowned our voices. When it lulled I could hear Flurry sobbing +to herself in the darkness, and Flossy, whining for company, as he +followed us closely. Poor Dot was spent and weary, and lay heavily +against my shoulder. Every now and then I had to stop and gather +strength, for I felt strangely weak, and there was an odd beating at my +heart. Dot must have heard my panting breath, for he begged me more +than once to put him down and leave him, but I would not. + +My strength was nearly gone when we reached the shelving path leading +down to the cottage, but I still dragged on. A stream of light came +full upon us as we turned the corner; it came from the cottage. + +The door was wide open and the parlor blinds were raised, and the ruddy +gleam of lamplight and firelight streamed full on our faces. + +No one saw us as we toiled up the pebbled path; no one waited for us in +the porch. I have a faint recollection that I stood in the hall, +looking round me for a moment in a dazed fashion; that Flossy barked, +and a door burst open; there was a wave of light, and a man's voice +saying something. I felt myself swaying with Dot in my arms; but some +one must have caught us, for when I came to myself I was lying on the +couch by the drawing-room fire, and Miss Ruth was kneeling beside me +raining tears over my face. + +"And Dot!" I tried to move and could not, and fell back on my pillow. +"The children!" I gasped, and there was a sudden movement in the room, +and Mr. Lucas stood over me with his child in his arms. Was it my +fancy, or were there tears in his eyes, too? + +"They are here, Esther," he said, in a soothing voice. "Nurse is taking +care of your boy." And then he burst out, "Oh, you brave girl! you +noble girl!" in a voice of strong emotion, and turned away. + +"Hush, Giles, we must keep her quiet," admonished his sister. "We do +not know what the poor thing has been through, but she is as cold as +ice. And feel how soaking her hair is!" + +Had it rained? I suppose it had, but then the children must be wet too! + +Miss Ruth must have noticed my anxious look, for she kissed me and +whispered: + +"Don't worry, Esther; we have fires and hot baths ready. Nurse and the +others will attend to the children; they will soon be warmed and in +bed. Let me dry your hair and rub your cold hands; and drink this, and +you will soon be able to move." + +The cordial and food they gave me revived my numb faculties, and in a +little while I was able, with assistance, to go to my room. Miss Ruth +followed me, and tenderly helped me to remove my damp things; but I +would not lie down in my warm bed until I had seen with my own eyes +that Flurry was already soundly asleep and Dot ready to follow her +example. + +"Isn't it delicious?" he whispered, drowsily, as I kissed him; and then +Miss Ruth led me back to my room, and tucked me up and sat down beside +me. + +"Now tell me all about it," she said, "and then you will be able to +sleep." For a strong excitement had succeeded the faintness, and in +spite of my aching limbs and weariness I had a sensation as though I +could fly. + +But when I told her she only shuddered and wept, and before I had half +narrated the history of those dismal hours she was down on her knees +beside the bed, kissing my hands. + +"Do let me," she sobbed, as I remonstrated. "Oh, Esther, how I love +you! How I must always love you for this!" + +"No, I am not Miss Ruth any longer; I am Ruth. I am your own friend and +sister, who would do anything to show her gratitude. You dear +girl!--you brave girl!--as Giles called you." + +This brought to my lips the question, "How had Mr. Lucas borne this +dreadful suspense?" + +"As badly as possible," she answered, drying her eyes. "Oh, Esther! +what we have all been through. Giles came in half an hour after you +left to search the shore. He was in a dreadful state, as you may +imagine. He sent down to the Preventive station at once, and there was +a boat got ready, and he went with the men. They pulled up and down for +an hour or two, but could find no trace of you." + +"We were in the cavern all the time," I murmured. + +"That was the strangest part of all," she returned. "Giles remembered +the cavern, and they went right into the mouth, and called as loudly as +they could." + +"We did not hear them; the wind was making such a noise, and it was so +dark." + +"The men gave up all hope at last, and Giles was obliged to come back. +He walked into the house looking as white as death. 'It is all over,' +he said; 'the tide has overtaken them, and that girl is drowned with +them.' And then he gave a sort of sob, and buried his face in his +hands. I turned so faint that for a little time he was obliged to +attend to me, but when I was better he got up and left the house. It +did not seem as though he could rest from the search, and yet he had +not the faintest glimmer of hope. He would have the cottage illuminated +and the door left open, and then he lighted his lantern and walked up +and down the cliffs, and every time he came back his poor face looked +whiter and more drawn. I had got hold of his hand, and was trying to +keep him from wandering out again, when all at once we heard Flossy +bark. Giles burst open the door, and then he gave a great cry, for +there you were, my poor Esther, standing under the hall lamp, with your +hair streaming over your shoulders and Dot in your arms, and Flurry +holding your dress, and you looked at us and did not seem to see us, +and Giles was just in time to catch you as you were reeling. He had you +all in his arms at once," finished Miss Ruth, with another sob, "till I +took our darling Flurry from him, and then he laid you down and carried +Dot to the fire." + +"If I could not have saved them I would have died with them; you knew +that, Miss Ruth." + +"Ruth," she corrected. "Yes, I knew that, and so did Giles. He said +once or twice, 'She is strong enough or sensible enough to save them if +it were possible, but no one can fight against fate.' Now I must go +down to him, for he is waiting to hear all about it, and you must go to +sleep, Esther, for your eyes are far too bright." + +But, greatly to her surprise and distress, I resisted this advice and +broke out into frightened sobs. The sea was in my ears, I said, when I +tried to close my eyes, and my arms felt empty without Dot and I could +not believe he was safe, though she told me so over and over again. + +I was greatly amazed at my own want of control; but nothing could +lessen this nervous excitement until Mr. Lucas came up to the door, and +Miss Ruth went out to him in sore perplexity. + +"What am I to do, Giles? I cannot soothe her in the least." + +"Let her have the child," he returned, in his deep voice; "she will +sleep then." And he actually fetched little Dot and put him in Miss +Ruth's arms. + +"Isn't it nice, Essie?" he muttered sleepily, as he nestled against me. + +It was strange, but the moment my arm was round him, and I felt his +soft breathing against my shoulder, my eyelids closed of their own +accord, and a sense of weariness and security came over me. + +Before many minutes were over I had fallen into a deep sleep, and Miss +Ruth was free to seek her brother and give him the information for +which he was longing. + +It was nearly five in the morning when I closed my eyes, and it was +exactly the same time on the following afternoon when I opened them. + +My first look was for Dot, but he was gone, the sun was streaming in at +the window, a bright fire burned in the grate, and Nurse Gill was +sitting knitting in the sunshine. + +She looked up with a pleasant smile on her homely face as I called to +her rather feebly. + +"How you have slept, to be sure, Miss Esther--a good twelve hours. But +I always say Nature is a safe nurse, and to be trusted. There's Master +Dot has been up and dressed these three hours and more, and Miss Flurry +too." + +"Oh, Nurse Gill, are you sure they are all right?" I asked, for it was +almost too good news to be true. + +"Master Dot is as right as possible, though he is a little palish, and +complains of his back and legs, which is only to be expected if they do +ache a bit. Miss Flurry has a cold, but we could not induce her to lie +in bed; she is sitting by the fire now on her father's knee, and Master +Dot is with them: but there, Miss Ruth said she was to be called as +soon as you woke, Miss Esther, though I did beg her not to put herself +about, and her head so terribly bad as it has been all day." + +"Oh, nurse, don't disturb her," I pleaded, eagerly, "I am quite well, +there is nothing the matter with me. I want to get up this moment and +dress myself;" for a great longing came over me to join the the little +group downstairs. + +"Not so fast, Miss Esther," she returned, good-humoredly. "You've had a +fine sleep, to be sure, and young things will stand a mortal amount of +fatigue; but there isn't a speck of color in your face, my poor lamb. +Well, well," as I showed signs of impatience--"I won't disturb Miss +Ruth, but I will fetch you some coffee and bread-and-butter, and we +will see how you will feel then." + +Mrs. Gill was a dragon in her way, so I resigned myself to her +peremptory kindness. When she trotted off on her charitable errand, I +leaned on my elbow and looked out of the window. It was Sunday evening, +I remembered, and the quiet peacefulness of the scene was in strangest +contrast to the horrors of yesterday; the wind had lulled, and the big +curling waves ceased to look terrible in the sunlight; the white spray +tossed lightly hither and thither, and the long line of dark seaweed +showed prettily along the yellow sands. The bitter war of winds and +waves was over, and the defeated enemy had retired with spent fury, and +sunk into silence. Could it be a dream? had we really lived through +that dreadful nightmare? But at this moment Nurse Gill interrupted the +painful retrospect by placing the fragrant coffee and brown +bread-and-butter before me. + +I ate and drank eagerly, to please myself as well as her, and then I +reiterated my intention to get up. It cost me something, however, to +persevere in my resolution. My limbs trembled under me, and seemed to +refuse their support in the strangest way, and the sight of my pale +face almost frightened me, and I was grateful to Nurse Gill when she +took the brush out of my shaking hand and proceeded to manipulate the +long tangled locks. + +"You are no more fit than a baby to dress yourself, Miss Esther," said +the good old creature, in a vexed voice. "And to think of drowning all +this beautiful hair. Why, there is seaweed in it I do declare, like a +mermaid." + +"The rocks were covered with it," I returned, in a weary indifferent +voice; for Mrs. Gill's officiousness tired me, and I longed to free +myself from her kindly hands. + +When I was dressed, I crept very slowly downstairs. My courage was +oozing away fast, and I rather dreaded all the kind inquiries that +awaited me. But I need not have been afraid. + +Dot clapped his hands when he saw me, and Mr. Lucas put down Flurry and +came to meet me. + +"You ought not to have exerted yourself," he said, reproachfully, as +soon as he looked at me; and then he took hold of me and placed me in +the armchair, and Flurry brought me a footstool and sat down on it, Dot +climbed up on the arm of the chair and propped himself against me, and +Miss Ruth rose softly from her couch and came across the room and +kissed me. + +"Oh, Esther, how pale you look!" she said, anxiously. + +"She will soon have her color back again," returned Mr. Lucas, looking +at me kindly. I think he wanted to say something, but the sight of my +weakness deterred him. I could not have borne a word. The tears were +very near the surface now, so near that I could only close my eyes and +lean my head against Dot; and, seeing this, they very wisely left me +alone. I recovered myself by-and-by, and was able to listen to the talk +that went on around me. The children's tongues were busy as usual; +Flurry had gone back to her father, and she and Dot were keeping up a +brisk fire of conversation across the hearth-rug. I could not see Mr. +Lucas' face, as he had moved to a dark corner, but Miss Ruth's couch +was drawn full into the firelight, and I could see the tears glistening +on her cheek. + +"Don't talk any more about it, my darlings," she said at last. "I feel +as though I should never sleep again, and I am sure it is bad for +Esther." + +"It does not hurt me," I returned, softly. "I suppose shipwrecked +sailors like to talk over the dangers they escape; somehow everything +seems so far away and strange to-night, as though it had happened +months ago." But though I said this I could not help the nervous thrill +that seemed to pass over me now and then. + +"Shall I read to you a little?" interrupted Mr. Lucas, quietly. "The +children's talk tires your head;" and without waiting for an answer, he +commenced reading some of my favorite hymns and a lovely poem, in a low +mellow voice that was very pleasant and soothing. + +Nurse came to fetch Flurry, and then Dot went too, but Mr. Lucas did +not put down the book for a long time. I had ceased to follow the +words; the flicker of the firelight played fitfully before my eyes. The +quiet room, the shaded lamplight, the measured cadence of the reader's +voice, now rising, now falling, lulled me most pleasantly. I must have +fallen asleep at last, for Flossy woke me by pushing his black nose +into my hand; for when I sat up and rubbed my eyes Mr. Lucas was gone, +and only Miss Ruth was laughing softly as she watched me. + +"Giles went away half an hour ago," she said amused at my perplexed +face. "He was so pleased when he looked up and found you were asleep. I +believe your pale face frightened him, but I shall tell him you look +much better now." + +"My head feels less bewildered," was my answer. + +"You are beginning to recover yourself," she returned, decidedly; "now +you must be a good child and go to bed;" and I rose at once. + +As I opened the drawing-room door, Mr. Lucas came out from his study. + +"Were you going to give me the slip?" he said, pleasantly. "I wanted to +bid you good-by, as I shall be off in the morning before you are awake." + +"Good by," I returned, rather shyly, holding out my hand; but he kept +it a moment longer than usual. + +"Esther, you must let me thank you," he said, abruptly. "I know but for +you I must have lost my child. A man's gratitude for such a mercy is a +strong thing, and you may count me your friend as long as I live." + +"You are very good," I stammered, "but I have done nothing; and there +was Dot, you know." I am afraid I was very awkward, but I dreaded his +speaking to me so, and the repressed emotion of his face and voice +almost frightened me. + +"There, I have made you quite pale again," he said, regretfully. "Your +nerves have not recovered from the shock. Well, we will speak of this +again; good-night, my child, and sleep well," and with another kind +smile he left me. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +A LETTER FROM HOME. + + +I was so young and healthy that I soon recovered from the shock, and in +a few days I had regained strength and color. Mr. Lucas had gone to see +mother, and the day after his visit she wrote a fond incoherent letter, +full of praises of my supposed heroism. Allan, to whom I had narrated +everything fully, wrote more quietly, but the underlying tenderness +breathed in every word for Dot and me touched me greatly. Dot had not +suffered much; he was a little more lame, and his back ached more +constantly. But it was Flurry who came off worst; her cold was on her +chest, and when she threw it off she had a bad cough, and began to grow +pale and thin; she was nervous, too, and woke every night calling out +to me or Dot, and before many days were over Miss Ruth wrote to her +brother and told him that Flurry would be better at home. + +We were waiting for his answer, when Miss Ruth brought a letter to my +bedside from mother, and sat down, as usual, to hear the contents, for +I used to read her little bits from my home correspondence, and she +wanted to know what Uncle Geoffrey thought about Flurry. My sudden +exclamation frightened her. + +"What is wrong, Esther? It is nothing about Giles?" + +"Oh, no!" I returned, the tears starting to my eyes, "but I must go +home at once; Carrie is very ill, they are afraid it is an attack of +rheumatic fever. Mother writes in such distress, and there is a message +from Uncle Geoffrey, asking me to pack up and come to them without +delay. There is something about Flurry, too; perhaps you had better +read it." + +"I will take the letter away with me. Don't hurry too much, Esther; we +will talk it over at breakfast, and there is no train now before +eleven, and nurse will help you to pack." + +That was just like Miss Ruth--no fuss, no unnecessary words, no adding +to my trouble by selfish regrets at my absence. She was like a man in +that, she never troubled herself about petty details, as most women do, +but just looked straight at the point in question. + +Her calmness reassured me, and by breakfast-time I was able to discuss +matters quietly. + +"I have sent nurse to your room, Esther," she said, as she poured out +the coffee; "the children have had their bread and milk, and have gone +out to play; it is so warm and sunny, it will not hurt Flurry. The pony +carriage will be round here at half-past ten, so you will have plenty +of time, and I mean to drive you to the station myself." + +"You think of everything," I returned, gratefully. "Have you read the +letter? Does it strike you that Carrie is so very ill?" + +"I am afraid so," she admitted, reluctantly; "your mother says she has +been ailing some time, only she would not take care of herself, and +then she got wet, and took her class in her damp things. I am afraid +you have a long spell of nursing before you; rheumatic fever sometimes +lasts a long time. Your uncle says something about a touch of pleurisy +as well." + +I pushed away my plate, for I could not eat. I am ashamed to say a +strong feeling of indignation took possession of me. + +"She would not give up," I burst out, angrily: "she would not come here +to recruit herself, although she owned she felt ill; she has just gone +on until her strength was exhausted and she was not in a state for +anything, and now all this trouble and anxiety must come on mother, and +she is not fit for it." + +"Hush, Esther; you must not feel like this," she returned, gently. +"Poor Carrie will purchase wisdom dearly; depend upon it, the knowledge +that she has brought on this illness through her own self-will will be +the sharpest pang of all. You must go home and be a comfort to them +all, as you have been our comfort," she added, sweetly; "and, Esther, I +have been thinking over things, and you must trust Dot to me. We shall +all return to the Cedars, most likely to-morrow, and I will promise not +to let him out of my sight." + +And as I regarded her dubiously, she went on still more eagerly: + +"You must let me keep him, Esther. Flurry is so poorly, and she will +fret over the loss of her little companion; and with such a serious +illness in the house, he would only be an additional care to you." And +as she seemed so much in earnest, I consented reluctantly to wait for +mother's decision; for, after all, the child would be dull and +neglected, with Jack at school, and mother and me shut up in Carrie's +sick room. So in that, as in all else, Miss Ruth was right. + +Dot cried a little when I said good-by to him; he did not like seeing +me go away, and the notion of Carrie's illness distressed him, and +Flurry cried, too, because he did, and then Miss Ruth laughed at them +both. + +"You silly children," she said, "when we are all going home to-morrow, +and you can walk over and see Esther every day, and take her flowers +and nice things for Carrie." Which view of the case cheered them +immensely, and we left them with their heads very close together, +evidently planning all sorts of surprises for Carrie and me. + +Miss Ruth talked very cheerfully up to the last moment, and then she +grew a little silent and tearful. + +"I shall miss you so, Esther, both here and at the Cedars," she said +tenderly. "I feel it may be a long time before you come to us again; +but there, I mean to see plenty of you," she went on, recovering +herself. "I shall bring Dot every day, if it be only for a few +minutes!" And so she sent me away half comforted. + +It was a dreary journey, and I was thankful when it was over; there was +no one to meet me at the station, so I took one of the huge lumbering +flies, and a sleepy old horse dragged me reluctantly up the steep +Milnthorpe streets. + +It was an odd coincidence, but as we passed the bank and I looked out +of the window half absently, Mr. Lucas came down the steps and saw me, +and motioned to the driver to stop. + +"I am very sorry to see you here," he said, gravely. "I met Dr. Cameron +just now, and he told me your mother had written to recall you." + +"Did he say how Carrie was?" I interrupted anxiously. + +"She is no better, and in a state of great suffering; it seems she has +been imprudent, and taken a severe chill; but don't let me keep you, if +you are anxious to go on." But I detained him a moment. + +"Flurry seems better this morning," I observed; "her cough is less +hard." + +He looked relieved at that. + +"I have written for them to come home to-morrow, and to bring Dot, too; +we will take care of him for you, and make him happy among us, and you +will have enough on your hands." + +And then he drew back, and went slowly down High street, but the +encounter had cheered me; I was beginning to look on Mr. Lucas as an +old friend. + +Uncle Geoffrey was on the door-step as I drove up, and we entered the +house together. + +"This is a bad business, I am afraid," he said, in a subdued voice, as +he closed the parlor door; "it goes to one's heart to see that pretty +creature suffer. I am glad, for all our sakes, that Allan will be here +next week." And then I remembered all at once that the year was out, +and that Allan was coming home to live; but he had said so little about +it in his last letters that I was afraid of some postponement. + +"He is really coming, then?" I exclaimed, in joyful surprise; this was +good news. + +"Yes, next Thursday; and I shall be glad of the boy's help," he +replied, gruffly; and then he sat down and told me about Carrie. + +Foolish girl, her zeal had indeed bordered upon madness. It seems Uncle +Geoffrey had taxed her with illness a fortnight ago, and she had not +denied it; she had even consented to take the remedies prescribed her +in the way of medicine, but nothing would induce her to rest. The +illness had culminated last Sunday; she had been caught in a heavy +rain, and her thin summer walking dress had been drenched, and yet she +had spent the afternoon as usual at the schools. A shivering fit that +evening had been the result. + +"She has gradually got worse and worse," continued Uncle Geoffrey; "it +is not ordinary rheumatic fever; there is certainly sciatica, and a +touch of pleurisy; the chill on her enfeebled, worn-out frame has been +deadly, and there is no knowing the mischief that may follow. I would +not have you told before this, for after a nasty accident like yours, a +person is not fit for much. Let me look at you, child. I must own you +don't stem much amiss. Now listen to me, Esther. I have elected Deborah +head-nurse, and you must work under her orders. Bless me," catching a +glimpse of a crimson disappointed face, for I certainly felt +crestfallen at this, "a chit like you cannot be expected to know +everything. Deb is a splendid nurse; she has a head on her shoulders, +that woman," with a little chuckle; "she has just put your mother out +of the room, because she says that she is no more use than a baby, so +you will have to wheedle yourself into her good graces if you expect to +nurse Carrie." + +"Why did you send for me, if you expect me to be of no use?" I +returned, with decided temper, for this remark chafed me; but he only +chuckled again. + +"Deborah sent for you, not I," he said, in an amused voice. "'Couldn't +we have Miss Esther home?' she asked; 'she has her wits about her,' +which I am afraid was a hit at somebody." + +This soothed me down a little, for my dignity was sadly affronted that +Deborah should be mistress of the sick room. I am afraid after all that +I was not different from other girls, and had not yet outgrown what +mother called the "porcupine stage" of girlhood, when one bristles all +over at every supposed slight, armed at every point with minor +prejudices, like "quills upon the fretful porcupine." + +Uncle Geoffrey bade me run along, for he was busy, so I went upstairs +swallowing discontent with every step, until I looked up and saw +mother's pale sad face watching me from a doorway, and then every +unworthy feeling vanished. + +"Oh, my darling, thank Heaven I have you again!" she murmured, folding +me in her loving arms; "my dear child, who has never given me a +moment's anxiety." And then I knew how heavily Carrie's willfulness had +weighed on that patient heart. + +She drew me half weeping into Carrie's little room, and we sat down +together hand in hand. The invalid had been moved into mother's room, +as it was large and sunny, and I could hear Deborah moving quietly as I +passed the door. + +Mother would not speak about Carrie at first; she asked after Dot, and +was full of gratitude to Miss Ruth for taking care of him; and then the +dear soul cried over me, and said she had nearly lost us both, and that +but for me her darling boy would have been drowned. Mr. Lucas had told +her so. + +"He was full of your praises, Esther," she went on, drying her eyes; +"he says he and Miss Ruth will be your fast friends through life; that +there is nothing he would not do to show his gratitude; it made me so +proud to hear it." + +"It makes me proud, too, mother; but I cannot have you talking about +me, when I am longing to hear about Carrie." + +Mother sighed and shook her head, and then it was I noticed a tremulous +movement about her head, and, oh! how gray her hair was, almost white +under her widow's cap. + +"There is not much to say," she said, despondently; "your uncle will +not tell me if she be in actual danger, but he looks graver every day. +Her sufferings are terrible; just now Deborah would not let me remain, +because I fretted so, as though a mother can help grieving over her +child's agony. It is all her own fault, Esther, and that makes it all +the harder to bear." + +I acquiesced silently, and then I told mother that I had come home to +spare her, and do all I could for Carrie--as much as Deborah would +allow. + +"You must be very prudent, then," she replied, "for Deborah is very +jealous, and yet so devoted, that one cannot find fault with her. +Perhaps she is right, and I am too weak to be of much use, but I should +like you to be with your sister as much as possible." + +I promised to be cautious, and after a little more talk with mother I +laid aside my traveling things and stole gently into the sick room. + +Deborah met me on the threshold with uplifted finger and a resolute +"Hush!" on her lips. She looked more erect and angular than ever, and +there was a stern forbidding expression on her face; but I would not be +daunted. + +I caught her by both her hands, and drew her, against her will, to the +door. + +"I want to speak to you," I whispered; and when I had her outside, I +looked straight into her eyes. "Oh, Deb," I cried, "is it not dreadful +for all of us? and I have been in such peril, too. What should we do +without you, when you know all about nursing, and understand a sick +room so well? You are everything to us, Deborah, and we are so +grateful, and now you must let me help you a little, and spare you +fatigue. I daresay there are many little things you could find for me +to do." + +I do not know about the innocence of the dove, but certainly the wisdom +of the serpent was in my speech; my humility made Deborah throw down +her arms at once. "Any little thing that I can do," I pleaded, and her +face relaxed and her hard gray eyes softened. + +"You are always ready to help a body, Miss Esther, I will say that, and +I don't deny that I am nearly ready to drop with fatigue through not +having my clothes off these three nights. The mistress is no more help +than a baby, not being able to lift, or to leave off crying." + +"And you will let me help you?" I returned, eagerly, a little too +eagerly, for she drew herself up. + +"I won't make any promises, Miss Esther," she said, rather stiffly; +"the master said I must have help, and I am willing to try what you can +do, though you are young and not used to the ways of a sick room," +finished the provoking creature; but I restrained my impatience. + +"Any little thing that I can do," I repeated, humbly; and my +forbearance had its reward, for Deborah drew aside to let me pass into +the room, only telling me, rather sharply, to say as little possible +and keep my thoughts to myself. Deborah's robust treatment was +certainly bracing, and it gave me a sort of desperate courage; but the +first shock of seeing Carrie was dreadful. + +The poor girl lay swathed in bandages, and as I entered the room her +piteous moanings almost broke my heart. Burning with fever, and racked +by pain, she could find no ease or rest. + +As I kissed her she shuddered, and her eyes looked at me with a +terrible sadness in them. + +"Oh, my poor dear, how sorry I am!" I whispered. I dared not say more +with Deborah hovering jealously in the back-ground. + +"Don't be sorry," she groaned; "I deserved it. I deserve it all." And +then she turned away her face, and her fair hair shaded it from me. Did +I hear it aright; and was it a whispered prayer for patience that +caught my ear as she turned away. + +Deborah would not let me stay long. She sent me down to have tea and +talk to mother, but she promised that I should come up again by-and-by. +I was surprised as I opened the parlor door to find Mr. Lucas talking +to Uncle Geoffrey and mother with Jack looking up at him with +awe-struck eyes. He came forward with an amused smile, as he noticed my +astonished pause. + +"You did not expect to see me here," he said, in his most friendly +manner; "but I wanted to inquire after your sister. Mrs. Cameron has +been so good as to promise me a cup of tea, so you must make it." + +That Mr. Lucas should be drinking tea at mother's table! somehow, I +could not get over my surprise. I had never seen him in our house +before, and yet in the old times both he and his wife had been frequent +visitors. Certainly he seemed quite at home. + +Mother had lighted her pretty china lamp, and Uncle Geoffrey had thrown +a log of wood on the fire, and the parlors looked bright and cozy, and +even Jack's hair was brushed and her collar for once not awry. I +suppose Mr. Lucas found it pleasant, for he stayed quite late, and I +wondered how he could keep his dinner waiting so long; but then Uncle +Geoffrey was such a clever man, and could talk so well. I thought I +should have to leave them at last, for it was nearly the time that +Deborah wanted me; but just then Mr. Lucas looked across at me and +noticed something in my face. + +"You want to be with your sister," he said, suddenly interpreting my +thoughts, "and I am reducing my cook to despair. Good-by, Mrs. Cameron. +Many thanks for a pleasant hour." And then he shook hands with us all, +and left the room with Uncle Geoffrey. + +"What an agreeable, well-bred man," observed mother. "I like him +exceedingly, and yet people call him proud and reserved." + +"He is not a bit," I returned, indignantly; and then I kissed mother, +and ran upstairs. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +"YOU WERE RIGHT, ESTHER." + + +For many, many long weeks, I might say months, my daily life was lived +in Carrie's sick room. + +What a mercy it is that we are not permitted to see the course of +events--that we take moment by moment from the Father's hand, not +knowing what lies before us! + +It was September when I had that little altercation with Deborah on the +threshold, and when she drew aside for me to pass into that +dimly-lighted sickroom; it was Christmas now, and I was there still. +Could I have foreseen those months, with their record of suffering, +their hours of changeless monotony, well might my courage have failed. +As it was, I watched the slow progression of nights and days almost +indifferently; the walls of the sickroom closed round me, shutting me +out from the actual world, and concentrating my thoughts on the frail +girl who was fighting against disease and death. + +So terrible an illness I pray to Heaven I may never see again; sad +complications producing unheard-of tortures, and bringing the sufferer +again and again to the very brink of death. + +"If I could only die: if I were only good enough to be allowed to die!" +that was the prayer she breathed; and there were times when I could +have echoed it, when I would rather have parted with her, dearly as I +loved her, than have seen her so racked with agony; but it was not to +be. The lesson was not completed. There are some who must be taught to +live, who have to take back "the turned lesson," as one has beautifully +said, and learn it more perfectly. + +If I had ever doubted her goodness in my secret soul, I could doubt no +longer, when I daily witnessed her weakness and her exceeding patience. +She bore her suffering almost without complaint, and would often hide +from us how much she had to endure. + +"'It is good to be still.' Do you remember that, Esther?" she said +once; and I knew she was quoting the words of one who had suffered. + +After the first day I had no further difficulty with Deborah; she soon +recognized my usefulness, and gave me my share of nursing without +grudging. I took my turn at the night-watching, and served my first +painful apprenticeship in sick nursing. Mother could do little for us; +she could only relieve me for a couple of hours in the afternoon, +during which Uncle Geoffrey insisted that I should have rest and +exercise. + +Allan did not come home when we expected him; he had to postpone his +intention for a couple of months. This was a sad disappointment, as he +would have helped us so much, and mother's constant anxiety that my +health should not suffer by my close confinement was a little trying at +times. I was quite well, but it was no wonder that my fresh color faded +a little, and that I grew a little quiet and subdued. The absence of +life and change must be pernicious to young people; they want air, +movement, a certain stirring of activity and bustle to keep time with +their warm natures. + +Every one was very kind to me. Uncle Geoffrey would take me on his +rounds, and often Miss Ruth and Flurry would call for me, and drive me +into the country, and they brought me books and fruit and lovely +flowers for Carrie's room; and though I never saw Mr. Lucas during his +few brief visits he never failed to send me a kind message or to ask if +there was anything he could do for us. + +Miss Ruth, or Ruth, as I always called her now, would sometimes come up +into the sickroom and sit for a few minutes. Carrie liked to see her, +and always greeted her with a smile; but when Mrs. Smedley heard of it, +and rather peremptorily demanded admittance, she turned very pale, and +calling me to her, charged me, in an agitated voice, never to let her +in. "I could not see her, I could not," she went on, excitedly. "I like +Miss Ruth; she is so gentle and quiet. But I want no one but you and +mother." + +Mother once--very injudiciously, as Uncle Geoffrey and I thought--tried +to shake this resolution of Carrie's. + +"Poor Mrs. Smedley seems so very grieved and disappointed that you will +not see her, my dear. This is the third time she has called this week, +and she has been so kind to you." + +"Oh, mother, don't make me see her!" pleaded Carrie, even her lips +turning white; and of course mother kissed her and promised that she +should not be troubled. But when she had left the room Carrie became +very much agitated. + +"She is the last I ought to see, for she helped to bring me to this; +she taught me to disobey my mother--yes, Esther, she did indeed!" as I +expostulated in a shocked manner. "She was always telling me that my +standard was not high enough--that I ought to look above even the +wisest earthly parents. She said my mother had old-fashioned notions of +duty; that things were different in her young days; that, in spite of +her goodness, she had narrow views; that it was impossible for her even +to comprehend me." + +"Dear Carrie, surely you could not have agreed with her?" I asked, +gently; but her only answer was a sigh as she sank back upon her +pillows. + +It was the evening Allan was expected, I remember. It was December now, +and for nine weeks I had been shut up in that room, with the exception +of my daily walk or drive. + +Deborah had gone back to her usual work; it was impossible to spare her +longer. But she still helped in the heaviest part of the nursing, and +came from time to time to look after us both. + +Dot had remained for six weeks at the Cedars; but mother missed him so +much that Uncle Geoffrey decided to bring him home; and how glad and +thankful I was to get my darling back! + +I saw very little of him, however, for, strange to say, Carrie did not +care for him and Jack to stay long in the room. I was not surprised +that Jack fidgeted her, for she was restless and noisy, and her loud +voice and awkward manners would jar sadly on an invalid; but Dot was +different. + +In a sick room he was as quiet as a little mouse, and he had such nice +ways. It grieved me to see Carrie shade her eyes in that pained manner +when he hobbled in softly on his crutches. + +"Carrie always cries when she sees me!" Dot said once, with a little +quiver of his lips. Alas! we neither of us understood the strange +misery that even the sight of her afflicted little brother caused her. + +Mother had gone downstairs when she had made her little protest about +Mrs. Smedley, and we were left alone together. I was resting in the low +cushioned chair Ruth had sent me in the early days of Carrie's illness, +and was watching the fire in a quiet fashion that had become habitual +to me. The room looked snug and pleasant in the twilight; the little +bed on which I slept was in the farthest corner; a bouquet of hothouse +flowers stood on the little round table, with some books Mr. Lucas had +sent up for me. It must have looked cheerful to Carrie as she lay among +the pillows; but to my dismay there were tears on her cheeks--I could +see them glistening in the firelight. + +"Do you feel less well to-night, dear?" I asked, anxiously, as I took a +seat beside her; but she shook her head. + +"I am better, much better," was her reply, "thanks to you and Deborah +and Uncle Geoffrey," but her smile was very sad as she spoke. "How good +you have been to me, Esther--how kind and patient! Sometimes I have +looked at you when you were asleep over there, and I have cried to see +how thin and weary you looked in your sleep, and all through me." + +"Nonsense," I returned, kissing her; but my voice was not quite clear. + +"Allan will say so to-night when he sees you--you are not the same, +Esther. Your eyes are graver, and you seem to have forgotten how to +laugh, and it is all my fault." + +"Dear Carrie, I wish you would not talk so." + +"Let me talk a little to-night," she pleaded. "I feel better and +stronger, and it will be such a relief to tell you some of my thoughts. +I have been silent for nine weeks, and sometimes the pent-up pain has +been more than I could bear." + +"My poor Carrie," stroking the thin white hand on the coverlid. + +"Yes, I am that," she sighed. "Do you remember our old talks together? +Oh, how wise you were, Esther, but I would not listen to you; you were +all for present duties. I can recollect some of your words now. You +told me our work lay before us, close to us, at our very feet, and yet +I would stretch out my arms for more, till my own burdens crushed me, +and I fell beneath them." + +"You attempted too much," I returned; "your intention was good, but you +overstrained your powers." + +"You are putting it too mildly," she returned, with a great sadness in +her voice. "Esther, I have had time to think since I have lain here, +and I have been reviewing your life and mine. I wanted to see where the +fault lay, and how I had missed my path. God was taking away my work +from me; the sacrifice I offered was not acceptable." + +"Oh, my dear, hush!" But she lifted her hand feebly and laid on my lips. + +"It was weeks before I found it out, but I think I see it clearly now. +We were both in earnest about our duty, we both wanted to do the best +we could for others; but, Esther, after all it was you who were right; +you did not turn against the work that was brought to you--your +teaching, and house, and mother, and Dot, and even Jack--all that came +first, and you knew it; you have worked in the corner of the vineyard +that was appointed to you, and never murmured over its barrenness and +narrow space, and so you are ripe and ready for any great work that may +be waiting for you in the future. 'Faithful in little, faithful in +much'--how often have I applied those words to you!" + +I tried to stem the torrent of retrospection, but nothing would silence +her; as she said herself, the pent up feelings must have their course. +But why did she judge herself so bitterly? It pained me inexpressibly +to hear her. + +"If I had only listened to you!" she went on; "but my spiritual +self-will blinded me. I despised my work. Oh, Esther! you cannot +contradict me; you know how bitterly I spoke of the little Thornes; how +I refused to take them into my heart; how scornfully I spoke of my +ornamental brickmaking." + +I could not gainsay her words on that point; I knew her to be wrong. + +"I wanted to choose my work; that was the fatal error. I spurned the +little duties at my feet, and looked out for some great work that I +must do. Teaching the little Thornes was hateful to me; yet I could +teach ragged children in the Sunday-school for hours. Mending Jack's +things and talking to mother were wearisome details; yet I could toil +through fog and rain in Nightingale lane, and feel no fatigue. My work +was impure, my motives tainted by self-will. Could it be accepted by +Him who was subject to His parents for thirty years, who worked at the +carpenter's bench, when He could have preached to thousands?" And here +she broke down, and wept bitterly. + +What could I answer? How could I apply comfort to one so sorely +wounded? And yet through it all who could doubt her goodness? + +"Dear Carrie," I whispered, "if this be all true, if there be no +exaggeration, no morbid conscientiousness in all you say, still you +have repented, and your punishment has been severe." + +"My punishment!" she returned, in a voice almost of despair. "Why do +you speak of it as past, when you know I shall bear the consequences of +my own imprudence all my life long? This is what is secretly fretting +me. I try to bow myself to His will; but, oh! it is so hard not to be +allowed to make amends, not to be allowed to have a chance of doing +better for the future, not to be allowed to make up for all my +deficiencies in the past; but just to suffer and be a burden." + +I looked at her with frightened eyes. What could she mean, when she was +getting better every day, and Uncle Geoffrey hoped she might be +downstairs by Christmas Day? + +"Is it possible you do not know, Esther?" she said incredulously; but +two red spots came into her thin cheeks. "Have not mother and Uncle +Geoffrey told you?" + +"They have told me nothing," I repeated. "Oh, Carrie, what do you mean? +You are not going to die?" + +"To die? Oh, no!" in a tone of unutterable regret. "Should I be so +sorry for myself if I thought that? I am getting well--well," with a +slight catching of her breath--"but when I come downstairs I shall be +like Dot." + +I do not know what I said in answer to this terrible revelation. Uncle +Geoffrey had never told me; Carrie had only extorted the truth from him +with difficulty. My darling girl a cripple! It was Carrie who tried to +comfort me as I knelt sobbing beside her. + +"Oh, Esther, how you cry! Don't, my dear, don't. It makes me still more +unhappy. Have I told you too suddenly? But you must know. That is why I +could not bear to see Dot come into the room. But I mean to get over my +foolishness." + +But I attempted no answer. "Cruel, cruel!" were the only words that +forced themselves through my teeth. + +"You shall not say that," she returned, stroking my hair. "How can it +be cruel if it be meant for my good? I have feared this all along, +Esther; the mischief has set in in one hip. It is not the suffering, +but the thought of my helplessness that frightens me." And here her +sweet eyes filled with tears. + +Oh, how selfish I was, when I ought to have been comforting her, if +only the words would come! And then a sudden thought came to me. + +"They also serve who only stand and wait," and I repeated the line +softly, and a sort of inspiration came over me. + +"Carrie," I said, embracing her, "this must be the work the loving +Saviour has now for you to do. This is the Cross He would have you take +up, and He who died to save the sinful and unthankful will give you +grace sufficient to your need." + +"Yes, I begin to think it is!" she returned; and a light came into her +eyes, and she lay back in a satisfied manner. "I never thought of it in +that way; it seemed my punishment--just taking away my work and leaving +me nothing but helplessness and emptiness." + +"And now you will look at it as still more difficult work. Oh, Carrie, +what will mine be compared to that--to see you patient under suffering, +cheerfully enduring, not murmuring or repining? What will that be but +preaching to us daily?" + +"That will do," she answered faintly; "I must think it out. You have +done more for me this afternoon than any one has." And seeing how +exhausted she was, I left her, and stole back to my place. + +She slept presently, and I sat still in the glimmering firelight, +listening to the sounds downstairs that told of Allan's arrival; but I +could not go down and show my tear-stained face. Deborah came up +presently to lay the little tea-table, and then Carrie woke up, and I +waited on her as usual, and tried to coax her failing appetite; and +by-and-by came the expected tap at the door. + +Of course it was Allan; no one but himself would come in with that +alert step and cheerful voice. + +"Well, Carrie, my dear," he said, affectionately, bending over her as +she looked up at him--whatever he felt at the sight of her changed face +he kept to himself; he kissed me without a word and took his seat by +the bedside. + +"You know, Allan?" she whispered, as he took her hand. + +"Yes, I know; Uncle Geoffrey has told me; but it may not be as bad as +you think--you have much for which to be thankful; for weeks he never +thought you would get over it. What does it matter about the lameness, +Carrie, when you have come back to us from the very jaws of death?" and +his voice trembled a little. + +"I felt badly about it until Esther talked to me," she returned. +"Esther has been such a nurse to me, Allan." + +He looked at me as she said this, and his eyes glistened. "Esther is +Esther," he replied, laconically; but I knew then how I satisfied him. + +"When we were alone together that night--for I waited downstairs to say +good-night to him, while Deborah stayed with Carrie--he suddenly drew +me toward him and looked in my face. + +"Poor child," he said, tenderly, "it is time I came home to relieve +you; you have grown a visionary, unsubstantial Esther, with large eyes +and a thin face; but somehow I never liked the look of you so well." + +That made me smile. "Oh, Allan, how nice it is to have you with me +again!" + +"Nice! I should think so; what walks we will have, by the bye. I mean +to have Carrie downstairs before a week is over; what is the good of +you both moping upstairs? I shall alter all that." + +"She is too weak too move," I returned, dubiously. + +"But she is not too weak to be carried. You are keeping her too quiet, +and she wants rousing a little; she feeds too much on her own thoughts, +and it is bad for her; she is such a little saint, you know," continued +Allan, half jestingly, "she wants to be leavened a little with our +wickedness. + +"She is good; you would say so if you heard her." + +"Not a bit more good than some other people--Miss Ruth, for example;" +but I could see from his mischievous eyes that he was not thinking of +Ruth. How well and handsome he was looking: he had grown broader, and +there was an air of manliness about him--"my bonnie lad," as I called +him. + +I went to bed that night with greater contentment in my heart, because +Allan had come home; and even Carrie seemed cheered by the hopeful view +he had taken of her case. + +"He thinks, perhaps, that after some years I may not be quite so +helpless," she whispered, as I said good-night to her, and her face +looked composed and quiet in the fading firelight; "anyhow, I mean to +bear it as well as I can, and not give you more trouble." + +"I do not think it a trouble," was my answer as her arms released me; +and as I lay awake watching the gleaming shadows in the room, I thought +how sweet such ministry is to those we love, their very helplessness +endearing them to us. After all, this illness had drawn us closer +together, we were more now as sisters should be, united in sympathy and +growing deeper into each other's hearts. "How pleasant it is to live in +unity!" said the Psalmist; and the echo of the words seemed to linger +in my mind until I fell asleep. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +SANTA CLAUS. + + +After all Allan's sanguine prognostication was not fulfilled. The new +year had opened well upon us before Carrie joined the family circle +downstairs. + +But the sickroom was a different place now, when we had Allan's cheery +visits to enliven our long evenings. A brighter element seemed +introduced into the house. I wondered if Carrie felt as I did! if her +heart leaped up with pleasure at the sound of his merry whistle, or the +light springing footsteps that seemed everywhere! + +His vigorous will seemed to dominate over the whole household; he would +drag me out peremptorily for what he called wholesome exercise, which +meant long, scrambling walks, which sent me home with tingling pulses +and exuberant spirits, until the atmosphere of the sick room moderated +and subdued them again. + +He continued to relieve me in many ways; sometimes he would come in +upon us in his quick, alert way, and bundle me and my work-basket +downstairs, ordering me to talk to mother, while he gave Carrie a dose +of his company. Perhaps the change was good for her, for I always +fancied she looked less depressed when I saw her again. + +Our choice of reading displeased him not a little; the religious +biographies and sentimental sacred poetry that Carrie specially +affected were returned to the bookshelves by our young physician with +an unsparing hand; he actually scolded me in no measured terms for what +he called my want of sense. + +"What a goose you are, Esther," he said, in a disgusted voice; "but, +there, you women are all alike," continued the youthful autocrat. "You +pet one another's morbid fancies, and do no end of harm. Because Carrie +wants cheering, you keep her low with all these books, which feed her +gloomy ideas. What do you say? she likes it; well, many people like +what is not good for them. I tell you she is not in a fit state for +this sort of reading, and unless you will abide by my choice of books I +will get Uncle Geoffrey to forbid them altogether." + +Carrie looked ready to cry at this fierce tirade, but I am afraid I +only laughed in Allan's face; still, we had to mind him. He set me to +work, I remember, on some interesting book of travels, that carried +both of us far from Milnthorpe, and set us down in wonderful tropical +regions, where we lost ourselves and our troubles in gorgeous +descriptions. + +One evening I came up and found Allan reading the "Merchant of Venice," +to her, and actually Carrie was enjoying it. + +"He reads so well," she said, rather apologetically, as she caught +sight of my amused face; she did not like to own even to me that she +found it more interesting than listening to Henry Martyn's life. + +It charmed us both to hear the sound of her soft laugh; and Allan went +downstairs well satisfied with the result of his prescription. + +On Christmas Eve I had a great treat. Ruth wanted me to spend the +evening with her; and as she took Carrie into her confidence, she got +her way without difficulty. Carrie arranged every thing; mother was to +sit with her, and then Allan and Deborah would help her to bed. I was +to enjoy myself and have a real holiday, and not come home until Allan +fetched me. + +I had quite a holiday feeling as I put on my new cashmere dress. Ruth +had often fetched me for a drive, but I had not been inside the Cedars +for months, and the prospect of a long evening there was delicious. + +Flurry ran out into the hall to meet me, and even Giles' grave face +relaxed into a smile as he hoped "Miss Cameron was better;" but Flurry +would hardly let me answer, she was so eager to show me the wreaths +auntie and she had made, and to whisper that she had hung out a +stocking for Santa Claus to fill, and that Santa Claus was going to +fill one for Dot too. + +"Come in, you naughty little chatterbox, and do not keep Esther in the +hall," exclaimed Ruth, from the curtained doorway; and the next minute +I had my arms round her. Oh, the dear room! how cozy it looked after my +months of absence; no other room, not even mother's pretty drawing-room +at Combe Manor, was so entirely to my taste. + +There was the little square tea-table, as usual, and the dark blue +china cups and saucers, and the wax candles in their silver sconces, +and white china lamp, and the soft glow of the ruddy firelight playing +into the dim corner. + +Ruth drew up the low rocking chair, and took off my hat and jacket, and +smoothed my hair. + +"How nice you look Esther, and what a pretty dress! Is that Allan's +present? But you are still very thin, my dear. + +"Oh, I am all right," I returned, carelessly, for what did it matter +how I looked, now Carrie was better? "Dear Ruth," I whispered, as she +still stood beside me, "I can think of nothing but the pleasure of +being with you again." + +"I hope you mean to include me in that last speech," said a voice +behind me; and there was Mr. Lucas standing laughing at us. He had come +through the curtained doorway unheard, and I rose in some little +confusion to shake hands. + +To my surprise, he echoed Miss Ruth's speech; but then he had not seen +me for three months. I had been through so much since we last met. + +"What have they been doing to you, my poor child?" Those were actually +his words, and his eyes rested on my face with quite a grieved, pitying +expression. + +"Allan told me I was rather unsubstantial-looking," I returned, trying +to speak lightly; but somehow the tears came to my eyes. "I was so +tired before he came home, but now I am getting rested." + +"I wonder at Dr. Cameron letting a child like you work so hard," he +retorted, quite abruptly. He had called me child twice, and I was +eighteen and a half, and feeling so old--so old. I fancy Ruth saw my +lip quiver, for she hastily interposed: + +"Let her sit down, Giles, and I will give her some tea. She looks as +cold as a little starved robin." + +And after that no one spoke again of my altered looks. It troubled me +for a few minutes, and then it passed out of my mind. + +After all, it could not be helped if I were a little thin and worn. The +strain of those three months had been terrible; the daily spectacle of +physical suffering before my eyes, the wakeful nights, the long +monotonous days, and then the shock of knowing that Carrie must be a +cripple, had all been too much for me. + +We talked about it presently, while Flurry sat like a mouse at my feet, +turning over the pages of a new book of fairy tales. The kind sympathy +they both showed me broke down the barrier of my girlish reserve, and I +found comfort in speaking of the dreary past. I did not mind Mr. Lucas +in the least: he showed such evident interest in all I told them. After +dinner he joined us again in the drawing-room, instead of going as +usual for a short time to his study. + +"When are you coming back to stay with us?" he asked, suddenly, as he +stirred the logs until they emitted a shower of sparks. + +"Yes," echoed his sister, "Carrie is so much better now that we think +it is high time for you to resume your duties; poor Flurry has been +neglected enough." + +My answer was simply to look at them both; the idea of renewing work +had never occurred to me; how could Carrie spare me? And yet ought I +not to do my part all the more, now she was laid by? For a moment the +sense of conflicting duties oppressed me. + +"Please do not look pale over it," observed Mr. Lucas, kindly; "but you +do not mean, I suppose, to be always chained to your sister's couch? +That will do neither of you any good." + +"Oh, no, I must work, of course," I returned, breathlessly. "Carrie +will not be able to do anything, so it is the more necessary for me, +but not yet--not until we have her downstairs." + +"Then we will give you three weeks' grace," observed Mr. Lucas, coolly. +"It is as you say, with your usual good sense, absolutely necessary +that one of you should work; and as Flurry has been without a governess +long enough, we shall expect you to resume your duties in three weeks' +time." + +I was a little perplexed by this speech, it was so dignified and +peremptory; but looking up I could see a little smile breaking out at +the corner of his mouth. Ruth too seemed amused. + +"Very well," I returned in the same voice; "I must be punctual, or I +shall expect my dismissal." + +"Of course you must be punctual," he retorted; and the subject dropped, +but I perceived he was in earnest under his jesting way. Flurry's +governess was wanted back, that was clear. + +As for me, the mere notion of resuming my daily work at the Cedars was +almost too delightful to contemplate. I had an odd idea, that missing +them all had something to do with my sober feelings. I felt it when I +went up to kiss Flurry in her little bed; the darling child was lying +awake for me. + +She made me lie down on the bed beside her, and hugged me close with +her warm arms, and her hair fell over my face like a veil, and then +prattled to me about Santa Claus and the wonderful gifts she expected. + +"Will Santa Claus bring you anything, Esther?" + +"Not much, I fear," was my amused answer. We were rather a gift-loving +family, and at Combe Manor our delight had been to load the breakfast +table on Christmas day with presents for every member of the family, +including servants; but of course now our resources were limited, and I +expected few presents; but in my spare time I had contrived a few +surprises in the shape of work. A set of embroidered baby linen for +Flurry's best doll, dainty enough for a fairy baby; a white fleecy +shawl for mother, and another for Carrie, and a chair-back for Ruth; +she was fond of pretty things, but I certainly did not look for much in +return. + +Allan had brought me that pretty dress from London, and another for +Carrie, and he had not Fortunatus' purse, poor fellow! + +"I have got a present for you," whispered Flurry, and I could imagine +how round and eager her eyes were; I think with a little encouragement +she would have told me what it was; but I assured her that I should +enjoy the surprise. + +"It won't keep you awake trying to guess, will it?" she asked, +anxiously; and when I said no, she seemed a little disappointed. + +"Dot has got one too," she observed, presently; but I knew all about +that. Dot was laboriously filling an album with his choicest works of +art. His fingers were always stained with paint or Indian ink at meal +times, and if I unexpectedly entered the room, I could see a +square-shaped book being smuggled away under the tablecloth. + +I think these sudden rushes were rather against the general finish of +the pictures, causing in some places an unsightly smudge or a blotchy +appearance. In one page the Tower of Babel was disfigured by this very +injudicious haste, and the bricks and the builders were wholly +indistinguishable for a sad blotch of ochre; still, the title page made +up for all such defects: "To my dear sister, Esther, from her +affectionate little brother, Frankie." + +"Aunt Ruth has one, too," continued Flurry; but at this point I thought +it better to say good-night. As it was, I found Allan had been waiting +for me nearly half-an-hour, and pretended to growl at me for my +dawdling, though in reality he was thoroughly enjoying his talk with +Ruth. + +Carrie was awake when I entered the room; she was lying watching the +fire. She welcomed me with her sweetest smile, and though I fancied her +cheek was wet as I kissed it, her voice was very tranquil. + +"Have you had a pleasant evening, Esther?" + +"Very pleasant. Have you missed me very much, darling?" + +"I always miss you," she replied, gently; "but Allan has done his best +to make the time pass quickly. And then dear mother was so good; she +has been sitting with me ever so long; we have had such a nice talk. +Somehow I begin to feel as if I had never known what mother was before." + +I knew Carrie wanted to tell me all about it, but I pretended I was +tired, and that it was time to be asleep. So she said no more; she was +submissive to us even in trifles now; and very soon I heard the sound +of her soft, regular breathing. + +As for me, I laid wide awake for hours; my evening had excited me. The +thought of resuming my happy duties at the Cedars pleased and +exhilarated me. How kind and thoughtful they had been for my comfort, +how warmly I had been welcomed! + +I fell to sleep at last, and dreamed that Santa Claus had brought me a +mysterious present. The wrappers were so many that Deborah woke me +before I reached the final. I remember I had quite a childish feeling +of disappointment when my pleasant dream was broken. + +What a Christmas morning that was! Outside the trees were bending with +hoar frost, a scanty whiteness lay on the lawn, and the soft mysterious +light of coming snow seemed to envelope everything. Inside the fire +burned ruddily, and Carrie lay smiling upon her pillows, with a little +parcel in her outstretched hands. I thought of my unfinished dream, and +told it to her as I unfolded the silver paper that wrapped the little +box. + +"Oh, Carrie!" I exclaimed, for there was her little amethyst cross and +beautiful filagree chain; that had been father's gift to her, the +prettiest ornament she possessed, and that had been my secret +admiration for years. + +"I want you to have it," she said, smiling, well pleased at my +astonished face. "I can never wear it again, Esther; the world and I +have parted company. I shall like to see you in it. I wish it were +twice as good; I wish it were of priceless value, for nothing is too +good for my dear little sister." + +I was very near crying over the little box, and Carrie was praising the +thickness and beauty of her shawl, when in came Dot, with his +scrap-book under his arm, and Jack, with a wonderful pen-wiper she had +concocted, with a cat and kitten she had marvelously executed in gray +cloth. + +Nor was this all. Downstairs a perfect array of parcels was grouped +round my plate. There was a book from Allan, and a beautiful little +traveling desk from Uncle Geoffrey. Mother had been searching in her +jewel case, and had produced a pearl-ring, which she presented to me +with many kisses. + +But the greatest surprise of all was still in store for me. Flurry's +gift proved to be a very pretty little photograph of herself and +Flossy, set in a velvet frame. Ruth's was an ivory prayer-book: but +beside it lay a little parcel, directed in Mr. Lucas' handwriting, and +a note inside begging me to accept a slight tribute of his gratitude. I +opened it with a trembling hand, and there was an exquisite little +watch, with a short gold chain attached to it--a perfect little beauty, +as even Allan declared it to be. + +I was only eighteen, and I suppose most girls would understand my +rapture at the sight. Until now a silver watch with a plain black guard +had been my only possession; this I presented to Jack on the spot, and +was in consequence nearly hugged to death. + +"How kind, how kind!" was all I could say; and mother seemed nearly as +pleased as I was. As for Uncle Geoffrey and Allan, they took it in an +offhand and masculine fashion. + +"Very proper, very prettily done," remarked Uncle Geoffrey, +approvingly. "You see he has reason to be grateful to you, my dear, and +Mr. Lucas is just the man to acknowledge it in the most fitting way." + +"I always said he was a brick," was Allan's unceremonious retort. "It +is no more than he ought to have done, for your pluckiness saved +Flurry." But to their surprise I turned on them with hot cheeks. + +"I have done nothing, it is all their kindness and goodness to me: it +is far too generous. How ever shall I thank him?" And then I snatched +up my treasure, and ran upstairs to show it to Carrie; and I do not +think there was a happier girl that Christmas morning than Esther +Cameron. + +The one drawback to my pleasure was--how I was to thank Mr. Lucas? But +I was spared this embarrassment, for he and Flurry waited after service +in the porch for us, and walked down High street. + +He came to my side at once with a glimmer of fun in his grave eyes. + +"Well, Miss Esther, has Santa Claus been good to you? or has he taken +too great a liberty?" + +"Oh, Mr. Lucas," I began, in a stammering fashion, but he held up his +hand peremptorily. + +"Not a word, not a syllable, if you please; the debt is all on my side, +and you do not fancy it can be paid in such a paltry fashion. I am glad +you are not offended with me, that is all." And then he proceeded to +ask kindly after Carrie. + +His manner set me quite at my ease, and I was able to talk to him as +usual. Dot was at the window watching for our approach. He clapped his +hands delightedly at the sight of Mr. Lucas and Flurry. + +"I suppose I must come in a moment to see my little friend," he said, +in a kindly voice, and in another moment he was comfortably seated in +our parlor with Dot climbing on his knee. + +I never remember a happier Christmas till then, though, thank God, I +have known still happier ones since. True, Carrie could not join the +family gathering downstairs; but after the early dinner we all went up +to her room, and sat in a pleasant circle round the fire. + +Only Fred was missing; except the dear father who lay in the quiet +churchyard near Combe Manor; but we had bright, satisfactory letters +from him, and hoped that on the whole he was doing well. + +We talked of him a good deal, and then it was that Dot announced his +grand purpose of being an artist. + +"When I am a man," he finished, in a serious voice, "I mean to work +harder than Fred, and paint great big pictures, and perhaps some grand +nobleman will buy them of me." + +"I wonder what your first subject will be, Frankie?" asked Allan, in a +slightly amused voice. He was turning over Dot's scrap-book, and was +looking at the Tower of Babel in a puzzled way. + +"The Retreat of the Ten Thousand under Xenophon," was the perfectly +startling answer, at which Allan opened his eyes rather widely, and +Uncle Geoffrey laughed. Dot looked injured and a little cross. + +"People always laugh when I want to talk sense," he said, rather +loftily. + +"Never mind, Frankie, we won't laugh any more," returned Allan, eager +to soothe his favorite; "it is a big subject, but you have plenty of +years to work it out in, and after all the grand thing in me is to aim +high." Which speech, being slightly unintelligible, mollified Dot's +wrath. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +ALLAN AND I WALK TO ELTHAM GREEN. + + +The next great event in our family annals was Carrie's first appearance +downstairs. + +Uncle Geoffrey had long wished her to make the effort, but she had made +some excuse and put it off from day to day; but at last Allan took it +into his head to manage things after his usual arbitrary fashion, and +one afternoon he marched into the room, and, quietly lifting Carrie in +his arms, as though she were a baby, desired me to follow with, her +crutches, while he carried her downstairs. + +Carrie trembled a good deal, and turned very white, but she offered no +remonstrance; and when Allan put her down outside the parlor door, she +took her crutches from me in a patient uncomplaining way that touched +us both. + +I always said we ought to have prepared Dot, but Allan would not hear +of my telling him; but when the door opened and Carrie entered, walking +slowly and painfully, being still unused to her crutches, we were all +startled by a loud cry from Dot. + +"She is like me! Oh, poor, poor Carrie!" cried the little fellow, with +a sob; and he broke into such a fit of crying that mother was quite +upset. It was in vain we tried to soothe him; that Carrie drew him +toward her with trembling arms and kissed him, and whispered that it +was God's will, and she did not mind so very much now; he only kept +repeating, "She is like me--oh, dear--oh dear! she is like me," in a +woe-begone little voice. + +Dot was so sensitive that I feared the shock would make him ill, but +Allan came at last to the rescue. He had been called out of the room +for a moment, and came back to find a scene of dire confusion--it took +so little to upset mother, and really it was heartbreaking to all of us +to see the child's grief. + +"Hallo, sonny, what's up now?" asked Allan, in a comical voice, lifting +up Dot's tear-stained face for a nearer inspection. + +"Oh, she is like me," gasped Dot; "she has those horrid things, you +know; and it's too bad, it's too bad!" he finished, with another +choking sob. + +"Nonsense," returned Allan, with sturdy cheerfulness; "she won't use +them always, you silly boy." + +"Not always!" returned Dot, with a woe-begone, puckered-up face. + +"Of course not, you little goose--or gander, I mean; she may have to +hobble about on them for a year or two, perhaps longer; but Uncle Geoff +and I mean to set her all right again--don't we, Carrie?" Carrie's +answer was a dubious smile. She did not believe in her own recovery; +but to Dot, Allan's words were full of complete comfort. + +"Oh, I am so glad, I am so glad!" cried the unselfish little creature. +"I don't mind a bit for myself; I shouldn't be Dot without my sticks, +but it seemed so dreadful for poor Carrie." + +And then, as she kissed him, with tears in her eyes, he whispered "that +she was not to mind, for Allan would soon make her all right: he always +did." + +Carrie tried to be cheerful that evening, but it cost her a great +effort. It was hard returning to everyday life, without strength or +capacity for its duties, with no bright prospect dawning in the future, +only a long, gray horizon of present monotony and suffering. But here +the consolation of the Gospel came to her help; the severe test of her +faith proved its reality; and her submission and total abnegation of +will brought her the truest comfort in her hour of need. + +Looking back on this part of our lives, I believe Carrie needed just +this discipline; like many other earnest workers she made an idol of +her work. It cost her months of suffering before she realized that God +does not always need our work; that a chastened will is more acceptable +to Him than the labor we think so all-sufficient. Sad lesson to poor +human pride, that believes so much in its own efforts, and yet that +many a one laid by in the vigor of life and work, has to learn so +painfully. Oh, hardest of all work, to do nothing while others toil +round us, to wait and look on, knowing God's ways are not our ways, +that the patient endurance of helplessness is the duty ordained for us! + +Carrie had to undergo another ordeal the following day, for she was +just settled on her couch when Mrs. Smedley entered unannounced. + +I had never liked Mrs. Smedley; indeed, at one time I was very near +hating her; but I could not help feeling sorry for the woman when I saw +how her face twitched and worked at the sight of her favorite. + +Carrie's altered looks must have touched her conscience. Carrie was a +little nervous, but she soon recovered herself. + +"You must not be sorry for me," she said, taking her hand, for actually +Mrs. Smedley could hardly speak; tears stood in her hard eyes, and then +she motioned to me to leave them together. + +I never knew what passed between them, but I am sure Mrs. Smedley had +been crying when I returned to the room. She rose at once, making some +excuse about the lateness of the hour--and then she did what she never +had done before--kissed me quite affectionately, and hoped they would +soon see me at the vicarage. + +"There, that is over," said Carrie, as if to herself, in a relieved +tone; but she did not seem disposed for any questioning, so I let her +close her eyes and think over the interview in silence. + +The next day was a very eventful one. I had made up my mind to speak to +mother and Carrie that morning, and announce my intention of going back +to the Cedars. I was afraid it would be rather a blow to Carrie, and I +wanted to get it over. + +In two or three days the three weeks' leave of absence would be +over--Ruth would be expecting to hear from me. The old saying, +"_L'homme propose, Dieu dispose_," was true in this case. I had little +idea that morning, when I came down to breakfast, that all my cherished +plans were to be set aside, and all through old Aunt Podgill. + +Why, I had never thought of her for years; and, as far as I can tell, +her name had not been mentioned in our family circle, except on the +occasion of dear father's death, when Uncle Geoffrey observed that he +or Fred must write to her. She was father's and Uncle Geoffrey's aunt, +on their mother's side, but she had quarreled with them when they were +mere lads, and had never spoken to them since. Uncle Geoffrey was most +in her black books, and she had not deigned to acknowledge his letter. + +"A cantankerous old woman," I remember he had called her on that +occasion, and had made no further effort to propitiate her. + +It was rather a shock, then, to hear Aunt Podgill's name uttered in a +loud voice by Allan, as I entered the room, and my surprise deepened +into astonishment to find mother was absolutely crying over a +black-edged letter. + +"Poor Mrs. Podgill is dead," explained Uncle Geoffrey, in rather a +subdued voice, as I looked at him. + +But the news did not affect me much; I thought mother's handkerchief +need hardly be applied to her eyes on that account. + +"That is a pity, of course; but, then, none of us knew her," I +remarked, coldly. "She could not have been very nice, from your +account, Uncle Geoffrey, so I do not know why we have to be so sorry +for her death," for I was as aggrieved as possible at the sight of +mother's handkerchief. + +"Well, she was a cantankerous old woman," began Uncle Geoffrey; and +then he checked himself and added, "Heaven forgive me for speaking +against the poor old creature now she is dead." + +"Yes, indeed, I have a great respect for Aunt Podgill," put in Allan; +and I thought his voice was rather curious, and there was a repressed +mirthful gleam in his eyes, and all the time mother went on crying. + +"Oh, my dear," she sobbed at last, "I am very foolish to be so +overcome; but if it had only come in Frank's--in your father's time, it +might--it might have saved him;" and here she broke down. + +"Ah, to be sure, poor thing!" ejaculated Uncle Geoffrey in a +sympathizing tone; "that is what is troubling her; but you must cheer +up, Dora, for, as I have always told you, Frank was never meant to be a +long-lived man." + +"What are you all talking about?" I burst out, with vexed impatience. +"What has Mrs. Podgill's death to do with father? and why is mother +crying? and what makes you all so mysterious and tiresome?" for I was +exasperated at the incongruity between mother's tears and Allan's +amused face. + +"Tell her," gasped out mother: and Uncle Geoffrey, clearing his voice, +proceeded to be spokesman, only Allan interrupted him at every word. + +"Why, you see, child, your mother is just a little upset at receiving +some good news--" + +"Battling good news," put in Allan. + +"It is natural for her, poor thing! to think of your father; but we +tell her that if he had been alive things would have shaped themselves +differently--" + +"Of course they would," from that tiresome Allan. + +"Aunt Podgill, being a cantankerous--I mean a prejudiced--person, would +never have forgotten her grudge against your father; but as in our last +moments 'conscience makes cowards of us all,' as Shakespeare has +it"--Uncle Geoffrey always quoted Shakespeare when he was agitated, and +Allan said, "Hear, hear!" softly under his breath--"she could not +forget the natural claims of blood; and so, my dear," clearing his +throat a little more, "she has left all her little fortune to your +mother; and a pretty little penny it is, close upon seven hundred a +year, and the furniture besides." + +"Uncle Geoffrey!" now it was my turn to gasp. Jack and Dot burst out +laughing at my astonished face; only Dot squeezed my hand, and +whispered, "Isn't it splendid, Essie?" Mother looked at me tearfully. + +"It is for your sakes I am glad, that my darling girls may not have to +work. Carrie can have every comfort now; and you can stay with us, +Esther, and we need not be divided any longer." + +"Hurrah," shouted Dot, waving his spoon over his head; but I only +kissed mother without speaking; a strange, unaccountable feeling +prevented me. If we were rich--or rather if we had this independence--I +must not go on teaching Flurry; my duty was at home with mother and +Carrie. + +I could have beaten myself for my selfishness; but it was true. +Humiliating as it is to confess it, my first feeling was regret that my +happy days at the Cedars were over. + +"You do not seem pleased," observed Allan, shrewdly, as he watched me. + +"I am so profoundly astonished that I am not capable of feeling," I +returned hastily; but I blushed a little guiltily. + +"It is almost too good to believe," he returned. "I never liked the +idea of you and Carrie doing anything, and yet it could not be helped; +so now you will all be able to stay at home and enjoy yourselves." + +Mother brightened up visibly at this. + +"That will be nice, will it not, Esther? And Dot can have his lessons +with you as usual. I was so afraid that Miss Ruth would want you back +soon, and that Carrie would be dull. How good of your Aunt Podgill to +make us all so happy! And if it were not for your father--" and here +the dear soul had recourse to her handkerchief again. + +If I was silent, no one noticed it; every one was so eager in detailing +his or her plans for the future. It was quite a relief when the lengthy +breakfast was over, and I was free to go and tell Carrie; somehow in +the general excitement no one thought of her. I reproached myself still +more for my selfishness, and called myself all manner of hard names +when I saw the glow of pleasure on her pale face. + +"Oh, Esther, how nice! How pleased dear mother must be! Now we shall +have you all to ourselves, and you need not be spending all your days +away from us." + +How strange! Carrie knew of my warm affection for Ruth and Flurry, and +yet it never occurred to her that I should miss my daily intercourse +with them. It struck me then how often our nearest and dearest +misunderstand or fail to enter into our feelings. + +The thought recurred to me more than once that morning when I sat at my +work listening to the discussion between her and mother. Carrie seemed +a different creature that day; the wonderful news had lifted her out of +herself, and she rejoiced so fully and heartily in our good fortune +that I was still more ashamed of myself, and yet I was glad too. + +"It seems so wonderful to me, mother," Carrie was saying, in her sweet +serious way, "that just when I was laid by, and unable to keep myself +or any one else, that this provision should be made for us." + +"Yes, indeed; and then there is Dot, too, who will never be able to +work," observed mother. + +It was lucky Dot did not hear her, or we might have had a reproachful +_resume_ of his artistic intentions. + +"Dear mother, you need not be anxious any longer over the fortune of +your two cripples," returned Carrie, tenderly. "I shall not feel so +much a burthen now; and then we shall have Esther to look after us." +And they both looked at me in a pleased, affectionate way. What could I +do but put down my work and join in that innocent, loving talk? + +At our early dinner that day Allan seemed a little preoccupied and +silent, but toward the close of the meal he addressed me in his +off-hand fashion. + +"I want you to come out with me this afternoon; mother can look after +Carrie." + +"It is a half holiday; may I come too?" added Jack, coaxingly. + +"Wait till you are asked, Miss Jacky," retorted Allan good-humoredly. +"No, I don't want your ladyship's company this afternoon; I must have +Esther to myself." And though Jack grumbled and looked discontented, he +would not change his decision. + +I had made up my mind to see Ruth, and tell her all about it; but it +never entered my head to dispute Allan's will if he wanted me to walk +with him. I must give up Ruth, that was all; and I hurried to put on my +things, that I might not keep him waiting, as he possessed his full +share of masculine impatience. + +I thought that he had some plan to propose to me, but to my surprise he +only talked about the most trivial subjects--the weather, the state of +the roads, the prospects of skating. + +"Where are we going?" I asked at last, for we were passing the Cedars, +and Allan rarely walked in that direction; but perhaps he had a patient +to see. + +"Only to Eltham Green," he returned briefly. + +The answer was puzzling. Eltham Green was half a mile from the Cedars, +and there was only one house there, beside a few scattered cottages; +and I knew Uncle Geoffrey's patient, Mr. Anthony Lambert, who lived +there, had died about a month ago. + +As Allan did not seem disposed to be communicative, I let the matter +rest, and held my peace; and a few minutes quick walking brought us to +the place. + +It was a little common, very wild and tangled with gorse, and in summer +very picturesque. Some elms bordered the road, and there was a large +clear-looking pond, and flocks of geese would waddle over the common, +hissing and thrusting out their yellow bills to every passer-by. + +The cottages were pretty and rustic-looking, and had gay little gardens +in front. They belonged to Mr. Lucas; and Eltham Cottage, as Mr. +Lambert's house was called, was his property also. + +Flurry and I had always been very fond of the common, where Flossy had +often run barking round the pond, after a family of yellow ducklings. + +"Eltham Cottage is still to let," I observed, looking up at the board; +"it is such a pretty house." + +Allan made no response to that, but bade me enter, as he wanted to look +at it. + +It was a long, two-storied cottage, with a veranda all round it, and in +summer a profusion of flowers--roses and clematis, and a splendid +passionflower--twined round the pillars and covered the porch. + +The woman who admitted us ushered us into a charming little hall, with +a painted window and a glass door opening on to the lawn. There was a +small room on one side of it, and on the other the dining room and +drawing-room. The last was a very long, pleasant room, with three +windows, all opening French fashion on to the veranda, and another +glass door leading into a pretty little conservatory. + +The garden was small, but very tastefully laid out; but there was a +southern wall, where peaches and nectarines were grown, and beehives +stood, and some pretty winding walks, which led to snug nooks, where +ferns or violets were hidden. + +"What a sweet place!" I exclaimed, admiringly, at which Allan looked +exultant; but he only bade me follow him into the upper rooms. + +These were satisfactory in every respect. Some were of sunny aspect, +and looked over the garden and some large park-like meadows; the front +ones commanded the common. + +"There is not a bad room in the house," said Allan; and then he made me +admire the linen-presses and old-fashioned cupboards, and the bright +red-tiled kitchen looking out on a laurestinus walk. + +"It is a dear house!" I exclaimed, enthusiastically, at which Allan +looked well-pleased. Then he took me by the arm, and drew me to a +little window-seat on the upper landing--a proceeding that reminded me +of the days at Combe Manor, when I sat waiting for him, and looking +down on the lilies. + +"I am glad you think so," he said, solemnly; "for I wanted to ask your +advice about an idea of mine; it came into my head this morning when we +were all talking and planning, that this house would be just the thing +for mother." + +"Allan!" I exclaimed, "you really do not mean to propose that we should +leave Uncle Geoffrey?" + +"No, of course not," with a touch of impatience, for he was always a +little hasty if people did not grasp his meaning at once, "but, you, +see, houses in Milnthorpe are scarce, and we are rather too tight a fit +at present. Besides, it is not quiet enough for Carrie: the noise of +the carts and gigs on Monday morning jars her terribly. What I propose +is, that you should all settle down here in this pretty countrified +little nook, and take Uncle Geoff and Deb with you, and leave Martha +and me to represent the Camerons in the old house in the High street." + +"But, Allan--" I commenced, dubiously, for I did not like the idea of +leaving him behind; but he interrupted me, and put his views more +forcibly before me. + +Carrie wanted quiet and country air, and so did Dot, and the +conservatory and garden would be such a delight to mother. Uncle +Geoffrey would be dull without us, and there was a nice little room +that could be fitted up for him and Jumbles; he would drive in to his +work every morning and he--Allan--could walk out and see us on two or +three evenings in the week. + +"I must be there, of course, to look after the practice. I am afraid I +am cut out for an old bachelor, Esther, like Uncle Geoff, for I do not +feel at all dismal at the thought of having a house to myself," +finished Allan with his boyish laugh. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +TOLD IN THE SUNSET. + + +What a clever head Allan had! I always said there was more in that boy +than half a dozen Freds! To think of such a scheme coming into his +mind, and driving us all nearly wild with excitement! + +Allan's strong will bore down all opposition. Mother's feeble +remonstrances, which came from a sheer terror of change; even Uncle +Geoffrey's sturdy refusal to budge an inch out of the old house where +he had lived so long, did not weigh a straw against Allan's solid +reasoning. + +It took a vast amount of talking, though, before our young autocrat +achieved his final victory, and went off flushed and eager to settle +preliminaries with Mr. Lucas. It was all sealed, signed, and delivered +before he came back. + +The pretty cottage at Eltham was to be ours, furnished with Aunt +Podgill's good old-fashioned furniture, and in the early days of April +we were to accomplish our second flitting. + +The only remaining difficulty was about Jack; but this Uncle Geoffrey +solved for us. The gig would bring him into Milnthorpe every morning, +and he could easily drive Jack to her school, and the walk back would +be good for her. In dark, wintry weather she could return with him, or, +if occasion required it, she might be a weekly boarder. + +Mr. Lucas came back with Allan, and formally congratulated mother on +her good fortune. + +I do not know if it were my fancy, but he seemed a little grave and +constrained in his manners that evening, and scarcely addressed me at +all until the close of his visit. + +"Under the circumstances I am afraid Flurry will have to lose her +governess," he said, not looking at me, however, but at mother; and +though I opened my lips to reply, my mother answered for me. + +"Well, yes, I am afraid so. Carrie depends so much on her sister." + +"Of course, of course," he returned, hastily; and actually he never +said another word, but got up and said good-by to mother. + +But I could not let him go without a word after all his kindness to me; +so, as Allan had gone out, I followed him out into the hall, though he +tried to wave me back. + +"It is cold; I shall not open the hail door while you stand there, Miss +Esther." + +"Oh, I do not mind the cold one bit," I returned, nervously; "but I +want to speak to you a moment, Mr. Lucas. Will you give Ruth my love, +and tell her I will come and talk to her to-morrow, and--and I am so +sorry to part with Flurry." + +"You are not more sorry than she will be," he returned, but not in his +old natural manner; and then he begged me so decidedly to go back into +the warm room that I dared not venture on another word. + +It was very unsatisfactory; something must have put him out, I thought, +and I went back to mother feeling chilled and uncomfortable. Oh, dear! +how dependent we are for comfort on the words and manners of those +around us. + +I went to the Cedars the following afternoon, and had a long +comfortable talk with Ruth. She even laid aside her usual quiet +undemonstrativeness, and petted and made much of me, though she laughed +a little at what she called my solemn face. + +"Confess now, Esther, you are not a bit pleased about all this money!" + +"Oh, indeed I am," I returned, quite shocked at this. "I am so +delighted for mother and Dot and Carrie." + +"But not for yourself," she persisted. + +There was no deceiving Ruth, so I made a full confession, and stammered +out, in great confusion, that I did not like losing her and Flurry; +that it was wrong and selfish, when Carrie wanted me so; but I knew +that even at Eltham I should miss the Cedars. + +She seemed touched at that. "You are a faithful soul, Esther; you never +forget a kindness, and you cannot bear even a slight separation from +those you love. We have spoiled you, I am afraid." + +"Yes, indeed," I returned, rather sadly, "you have been far too good to +me." + +"That is a matter of opinion. Well, what am I to say to comfort you, +when you find fault with even your good luck? Will it make you any +better to know we shall all miss you dreadfully? Even Giles owned as +much; and as for Flurry, we had quite a piece of work with her." + +"Mr. Lucas never even said he was sorry," I returned, in a piqued +voice. It was true I was quite spoiled, for I even felt aggrieved that +he did not join us in the drawing-room, and yet I knew he was in the +house. + +"Oh, you do not know Giles," she answered, brightly; "he is one of the +unselfish ones, he would not have damped what he thought your happiness +for the world. You see, Esther, no one in their senses would ever +believe that you were really sorry at your stroke of good fortune; it +is only I who know you, my dear, that can understand how that is." + +Did she understand? Did I really understand myself? Anyhow, I felt +horribly abashed while she was speaking. I felt I had been conducting +myself in an unfledged girlish fashion, and that Ruth, with her staid +common sense, was reproving me. + +I determined then and there that no more foolish expression of regret +should cross my lips; that I would keep all such nonsense to myself; so +when Flurry ran in very tearful and desponding, I took Ruth's cue, and +talked to her as cheerfully as possible, giving her such vivid +descriptions of the cottage and the garden, and the dear little +honeysuckle arbor where Dot and she could have tea, that she speedily +forgot all her regrets in delicious anticipations. + +"Yes, indeed," observed Ruth, as she benevolently contemplated us, "I +expect Flurry and I will be such constant visitors that your mother +will complain that there is no end of those tiresome Lucases. Run +along, Flurry, and see if your father means to come in and have some +tea. Tell him Esther is here." + +Flurry was a long time gone, and then she brought back a message that +her father was too busy, and she might bring him a cup there, and that +she was to give his kind regards to Miss Cameron, and that was all. + +I went home shortly after that, and found mother and Carrie deep in +discussion about carpets and curtains. They both said I looked tired +and cold, and that Ruth had kept me too long. + +"I think I am getting jealous of Ruth," Carrie said, with a gentle +smile. + +And somehow the remark did not please me; not that Carrie really meant +it, though; but it did strike me sometimes that both mother and she +thought that Ruth rather monopolized me. + +My visits to the Cedars became very rare after this, for we were soon +engrossed with the bustle of moving. For more than six weeks I trudged +about daily between our house and Eltham Cottage. There were carpets to +be fitted, and the furniture to be adapted to each room, and when that +was done, Allan and I worked hard in the conservatory; and here Ruth +often joined us, bringing with her a rare fern or plant from the +well-stocked greenhouses at the Cedars. She used to sit and watch us at +our labors, and say sometimes how much she wished she could help us, +and sometimes she spent an hour or two with Carrie to make up for my +absence. + +I rather reveled in my hard work, and grew happier every day, and the +cottage did look so pretty when we had finished. + +Ruth was with me all the last afternoon. We lighted fires in all the +rooms, and they looked so cozy. The table in the dining-room was spread +with Aunt Podgill's best damask linen and her massive old-fashioned +silver; and Deborah was actually baking her famous griddle cakes, to +the admiration of our new help, Dorcas, before the first fly, with +mother and Carrie and Dot, drove up to the door. I shall never forget +mother's pleased look as she stood in the little hall, and Carrie's +warm kiss as I welcomed them. + +"How beautiful it all looks!" she exclaimed; "how home-like and bright +and cozy; you have managed so well, Esther!" + +"Esther always manages well," observed dear mother, proudly. The extent +to which she believed in me and my resources was astonishing. She +followed me all over the house, praising everything. I was glad Ruth +heard her, and knew that I had done my best for them all. Allan +accompanied the others, and we had quite a merry evening. + +Ruth stayed to tea. "She was really becoming one of us!" as mother +observed; and Allan took her home. We all crowded into the porch to see +them off; even Carrie, who was getting quite nimble on her crutches. It +was a warm April night; the little common was flooded with moonlight; +the spring flowers were sleeping in the white rays, and the limes +glistened like silver. Uncle Geoffrey and I walked with them to the +gate, while Ruth got into her pony carriage. + +I did not like saying good-night to Allan; it seemed so strange for him +to be going back to the old house alone; but he burst into one of his +ringing laughs when I told him so. + +"Why, I like it," he said, cheerily; "it is good fun being monarch of +all I survey. Didn't I tell you I was cut out for an old bachelor? You +must come and make tea for me sometimes, when I can't get out here." +And then, in a more serious voice, he added, "It does put one into such +good spirits to see mother and you girls safe in this pretty nest." + +I had never been idle; but now the day never seemed long enough for my +numerous occupations, and yet they were summer days, too. + +The early rising was now an enjoyment to me. I used to work in the +garden or conservatory before breakfast, and how delicious those hours +were when the birds and I had it all to ourselves; and I hardly know +which sang the loudest, for I was very happy, very happy indeed, +without knowing why. I think this unreasoning and unreasonable +happiness is an attribute of youth. + +I had got over my foolish disappointment about the Cedars. Ruth kept +her word nobly, and she and Flurry came perpetually to the cottage. +Sometimes I spent an afternoon or evening at the Cedars, and then I +always saw Mr. Lucas, and he was most friendly and pleasant. He used to +talk of coming down one afternoon to see how I was getting on with my +fernery, but it was a long time before he kept his promise. + +The brief cloud, or whatever it was, had vanished and he was his own +genial self. Flurry had not another governess, but Ruth gave her +lessons sometimes, and on her bad days her father heard them. It was +rather desultory teaching, and I used to shake my head rather solemnly +when I heard of it; but Ruth always said that Giles wished it to be so +for the present. The child was not strong, and was growing fast, and it +would not hurt her to run wild a little. + +When breakfast was over, Dot and I worked hard; and in the afternoon I +generally read to Carrie; she was far less of an invalid now, and used +to busy herself with work for the poor while she lay on her couch and +listened. She used to get mother to help her sometimes, and then Carrie +would look so happy as she planned how this garment was to be for old +Nanny Stables, and the next for her little grandson Jemmy. With +returning strength came the old, unselfish desire to benefit others. It +put her quite into spirits one day when Mrs. Smedley asked her to cover +some books for the Sunday school. + +"How good of her to think of it; it is just work that I can do!" she +said, gratefully; and for the rest of the day she looked like the old +Carrie again. + +Allan came to see us nearly every evening. Oh, those delicious summer +evenings! how vividly even now they seem to rise before me, though +many, many happy years lie between me and them. + +Somehow it had grown a sort of habit with us to spend them on the +common. Mother loved the sweet fresh air, and would sit for hours among +the furze bushes and gorse, knitting placidly, and watching the +children at their play, or the cottagers at work in their gardens; and +Uncle Geoffrey, in his old felt hat, would sit beside her, reading the +papers. + +Allan used to tempt Carrie for a stroll over the common; and when she +was tired he and Jack and I would saunter down some of the long country +lanes, sometimes hunting for glow-worms in the hedges, sometimes +extending our walk until the moon shone over the silent fields, and the +night became sweet and dewy, and the hedgerows glimmered strangely in +the uncertain light. + +How cozy our little drawing-room always looked on our return! The lamp +would be lighted on the round table, and the warm perfume of flowers +seemed to steep the air with fragrance; sometimes the glass door would +lie open, and gray moths come circling round the light, and outside lay +the lawn, silvered with moonlight. Allan used to leave us regretfully +to go back to the old house at Milnthorpe; he said we were such a snug +party. + +When Carrie began to visit the cottages and to gather the children +round her couch on Sunday afternoons, I knew she was her old self +again. Day by day her sweet face grew calmer and happier; her eyes lost +their sad wistful expression, and a little color touched her wan cheeks. + +Truly she often suffered much, and her lameness was a sad hindrance in +the way of her usefulness; but her hands were always busy, and on her +well days she spent hours in the cottages reading to two or three old +people, or instructing the younger ones. + +It was touching to see her so thankful for the fragments of work that +still fell to her share, content to take the humblest task, if she only +might give but "a cup of cold water to one of these little ones;" and +sometimes I thought how dearly the Good Shepherd must love the gentle +creature who was treading her painful life-path so lovingly and +patiently. + +I often wondered why Mr. Lucas never kept his promise of coming to see +us; but one evening when Jack and Allan and I returned from our stroll +we found him sitting talking to mother and Uncle Geoffrey. + +I was so surprised at his sudden appearance that I dropped some of the +flowers I held in my hand, and he laughed as he helped me to pick them +up. + +"I hope I haven't startled you," he said, as we shook hands. + +"No--that is--I never expected to see you here this evening," I +returned, rather awkwardly. + +"Take off your hat, Esther," said mother, in an odd tone; and I thought +she looked flushed and nervous, just as she does when she wants to cry. +"Mr. Lucas has promised to have supper with us, and, my dear, he wants +you to show him the conservatory and the fernery." + +It was still daylight, though the sun was setting fast; we had returned +earlier than usual, for Allan had to go back to Milnthorpe, and he bade +us goodnight hastily as I prepared to obey mother. + +Jack followed us, but mother called her back, and asked her to go to +one of the cottages and fetch Carrie home. Such a glorious sunset met +our eyes as we stepped out on the lawn; the clouds were a marvel of +rose and violet and golden splendor; the windows of the cottage were +glittering with the reflected beams, and a delicious scent of lilies +was in the air. + +Mr. Lucas seemed in one of his grave moods, for he said very little +until we reached the winding walk where the ferns were, and then---- + +I am not going to repeat what he said; such words are too sacred; but +it came upon me with the shock of a thunderbolt what he had been +telling mother, and what he was trying to make me understood, for I was +so stupid that I could not think what he meant by asking me to the +Cedars, and when he saw that, he spoke more plainly. + +"You must come back, Esther; we cannot do without you any longer," he +continued very gently, "not as Flurry's governess, but as her mother, +and as my wife." + +He was very patient with me, when he saw how the suddenness and the +wonder of it all upset me, that a man like Mr. Lucas could love me, and +be so clever and superior and good. How could such a marvelous thing +have happened? + +And mother knew it, and Uncle Geoffrey, for Mr. Lucas had taken +advantage of my absence to speak to them both, and they had given him +leave to say this to me. Well, there could be no uncertainty in my +answer. I already reverenced and venerated him above other men, and the +rest came easy, and before we returned to the house the first +strangeness and timidity had passed; I actually asked him--summoning up +all my courage, however--how it was he could think of me, a mere girl +without beauty, or cleverness, or any of the ordinary attractions of +girlhood. + +"I don't know," he answered, and I knew by his voice he was smiling; +"it has been coming on a long time; when people know you they don't +think you plain, Esther, and to me you can never be so. I first knew +what I really felt when I came out of the room that dreadful night, and +saw you standing with drenched hair and white face, with Dot in your +arms and my precious Flurry clinging to your dress; when I saw you +tottering and caught you. I vowed then that you, and none other, should +replace Flurry's dead mother;" and when he had said this I asked no +more. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +RINGING THE CHANGES. + + +When Mr. Lucas took me to mother, she kissed me and shed abundance of +tears. + +"Oh, my darling, if only your poor father could know of this," she +whispered; and when Uncle Geoffrey's turn came he seemed almost as +touched. + +"What on earth are we to do without you, child?" he grumbled, wiping +his eye-glasses. "There, go along with you. If ever a girl deserved a +good husband and got it, you are the one." + +"Yes, indeed," sighed mother; "Esther is every one's right hand." + +But Mr. Lucas sat down by her side and said something so kind and +comforting that she soon grew more cheerful, and I went up to Carrie. + +She was resting a little in the twilight, and I knelt down beside her +and hid my face on her shoulder, and now the happy tears would find a +vent. + +"Why, Esther--why, my dear, what does this mean?" she asked, anxiously; +and then, with a sudden conviction dawning on her, she continued in an +excited voice--"Mr. Lucas is here; he has been saying something, +he--he----" And then I managed somehow to stammer out the truth. + +"I am so happy; but you will miss me so dreadfully, darling, and so +will Dot and mother." + +But Carrie took me in her arms and silenced me at once. + +"We are all happy in your happiness; you shall not shed a tear for +us--not one. Do you know how glad I am, how proud I feel that he should +think so highly of my precious sister! Where is he? Let me get up, that +I may welcome my new brother. So you and your dear Ruth will be +sisters," she said, rallying me in her gentle way, and that made me +smile and blush. + +How good Carrie was that evening! Mr. Lucas was quite touched by her +few sweet words of welcome, and mother looked quite relieved at the +sight of her bright face. + +"What message am I to take to Ruth?" he said to me, as we stood +together in the porch later on that evening. + +"Give her my dear love, and ask her to come to me," was my +half-whispered answer; and as I went to bed that night Carrie's words +rang in my ears like sweetest music--"You and Ruth will be sisters." + +But it was Allan who was my first visitor. Directly Uncle Geoffrey told +him what had happened, he put on his broad-brimmed straw hat, and +leaving Uncle Geoffrey to attend to the patients, came striding down to +the cottage. + +He had burst open the door and caught hold of me before I could put +down Dot's lesson book. The little fellow looked up amazed at his +radiant face. + +"What a brick you are, Esther, and what a brick he is!" fairly hugging +me. "I never was so pleased at anything in my life. Hurrah for Mr. +Lucas at the Cedars!" and Allan threw up his hat and caught it. No +wonder Dot looked mystified. + +"What does he mean?" asked the poor child; "and how hot you look, +Essie." + +"Listen to me, Frankie," returned Allan, sitting down by Dot. "The +jolliest thing in the world has happened. Esther has made her fortune; +she is going to have a good husband and a rich husband, and one we +shall all like, Dot; and not only that, but she will have a dear little +daughter as well." + +Dot fairly gasped as he looked at us both, and then he asked me rather +piteously if Allan was telling him a funny story to make him laugh. + +"Oh, no, dear Dot," I whispered, bringing my face on a level with his, +and bravely disregarding Allan's quizzical looks. "It is quite true, +darling, although it is so strange I hardly know how to believe it +myself. But one day I am going to the Cedars." + +"To live there? to leave us? Oh, Essie!" And Dot's eyes grew large and +mournful. + +"Mr. Lucas wants me, and Flurry. Oh, my darling, forgive me!" as a big +tear rolled down his cheek. "I shall always love you, Dot; you will not +lose me. Oh, dear! oh dear! what am I to say to him, Allan?" + +"You will not love me the most any longer, Essie." + +And as I took him in my arms and kissed him passionately his cheek felt +wet against mine. + +"Oh, Frankie, fie for shame!" interrupted Allan. "You have made Esther +cry, and just now, when she was so happy. I did not think you were so +selfish." + +But I would not let him go on. I knew where the pain lay. Dot was +jealous for the first time in his life, and for a long time he refused +to be comforted. + +Allan left us together by-and-by, and I took my darling on my lap and +listened to his childish exposition of grief and the recital of +grievances that were very real to him. How Flurry would always have me, +and he (Dot) would be dull and left out in the cold. How Mr. Lucas was +a very nice man; but he was so old, and he did not want him for a +brother--indeed, he did not want a brother at all. + +He had Allan and that big, stupid Fred--for Dot, for once in his sweet +life, was decidedly cross. And then he confided to me that he loved +Carrie very much, but not half so well as he loved me. He wished Mr. +Lucas had taken her instead. She was very nice and very pretty, and all +that, and why hadn't he? + +But here I thought it high time to interpose. + +"But, Dot, I should not have liked that at all. And I am so happy," I +whispered. + +"You love him--that old, old man, Essie!" in unmitigated astonishment. + +"He is not old at all," I returned, indignantly; for, in spite of his +iron-gray hair, Mr. Lucas could hardly be forty, and was still a +young-looking man. + +Dot gave a wicked little smile at that. In his present mood he rather +enjoyed vexing me. + +I got him in a better frame of mind by-and-by. I hardly knew what I +said, but I kissed him, and cried and told him how unhappy he made me, +and how pleased mother and Carrie and Jack were; and after that he left +off saying sharp things, and treated me to a series of penitent hugs, +and promised that he would not be cross with "my little girl" Flurry; +for after that day he always persisted in calling her "my little girl." + +Dot had been a little exhausting, so I went down to the bench near the +fernery to cool myself and secure a little quiet, and there Ruth found +me. I saw her coming over the grass with outstretched hands, and such a +smile on her dear face; and though I was so shy that I could scarcely +greet her, I could feel by the way she kissed me how glad--how very +glad--she was. + +"Dear Esther! My dear new sister!" she whispered. + +"Oh, Ruth, is it true?" I returned, blushing. "Last night it seemed +real, but this morning I feel half in a dream. It will do me good to +know that you are really pleased about this." + +"Can you doubt it, dearest?" she returned, reproachfully. "Have you not +grown so deep into our hearts that we cannot tear you out if you would? +You are necessary to all of us, Esther--to Flurry and me as to +Giles----" + +But I put my hand on her lips to stop her. It was sweet, and yet it +troubled me to know what he thought of me; but Ruth would not be +stopped. + +"He came home so proud and happy last night. 'She has accepted me, +Ruth,' he said, in such a pleased voice, and then he told me what you +had said about being so young and inexperienced." + +"That was my great fear," I replied, in a low voice. + +"Your youth is a fault that will mend," she answered, quaintly. "I wish +I could remember Giles' rhapsody--'So true, so unselfish, so womanly +and devoted.' By-the-by, I have forgotten to give you his message; he +will be here this afternoon with Flurry." + +We talked more soberly after a time, and the sweet golden forenoon wore +away as we sat there looking at the cool green fronds of the ferns +before us, with mother's bees humming about the roses. There was summer +over the land and summer in my heart, and above us the blue open sky of +God's Providence enfolding us. + +I was tying up the rose in the porch, when I saw Mr. Lucas and Flurry +crossing the common. Dot, who was helping me, grew a little solemn all +at once. + +"Here is your little girl, Essie," he said very gravely. My dear boy, +how could he? + +"Oh, Esther," she panted, for she had broken away from her father at +the sight of us, "auntie has told me you are going to be my own mamma, +in place of poor mamma who died. I shall call you mammy. I was lying +awake ever so long last night, thinking which name it should be, and I +like that best." + +"You shall call me what you like, dear Flurry; but I am only Esther +now." + +"Yes, but you will be mammy soon," she returned, nodding her little +head sagely. "Mamma was such a grand lady; so big and handsome, she was +older, too--" But here Mr. Lucas interrupted us. + +Dot received him in a very dignified manner. + +"How do you do?" he said, putting out his mite of a hand, in such an +old-fashioned way. I could see Mr. Lucas' lip curl with secret +amusement, and then he took the little fellow in his arms. + +"What is the matter, Dot? You do not seem half pleased to see me this +afternoon. I suppose you are very angry with me for proposing to take +Esther away. Don't you want an old fellow like me to be your brother?" + +Dot's face grew scarlet. Truth and politeness were sadly at variance, +but at last he effected a compromise. + +"Esther says you are not so very old, after all," he stammered. + +"Oh, Esther says that, does she?" in an amused voice. + +"Father is not old at all," interrupted Flurry, in a cross voice. + +"Never mind, so that Esther is satisfied," returned Mr. Lucas, +soothingly; "but as Flurry is going to be her little girl, you must be +my little boy, eh, Dot?" + +"I am Esther's and Allan's little boy," replied Dot, rather +ungraciously. We had spoiled our crippled darling among us, and had +only ourselves to blame for his little tempers. + +"Yes, but you must be mine too," he replied, still more gently; and +then he whispered something into his ear. I saw Dot's sulky countenance +relax, and a little smile chase away his frown, and in another moment +his arms closed round Mr. Lucas' neck; the reconciliation was complete. + +What a happy autumn that was! But November found us strangely busy, for +we were preparing for my wedding. We were married on New Year's Day, +when the snow lay on the ground. A quiet, a very quiet wedding, it was. +I was married in my traveling dress, at Giles' expressed wish, and we +drove straight from the church door to the station, for we were to +spend the first few weeks in Devonshire. + +Dear Jessie, my old schoolmate, was my only bridesmaid; for Carrie +would not hear of fulfilling that office on her crutches. + +I have a vague idea that the church was very full and I have a misty +recollection of Dot, with very round eyes, standing near Allan; but I +can recall no more, for my thoughts were engaged by the solemn vows we +were exchanging. + +Three weeks afterward, and we were settled in the house that was to be +mine for so many happy years; but never shall I forget the sweetness of +that home-coming. + +Dear Ruth welcomed us on the threshold, and then took my hand and +Giles' and led us into the bright firelit room. Two little faces peeped +at us from the curtained recess, and these were Dot and Flurry. I had +them both in my arms at once. I would not let Giles have Flurry at +first till he threatened to take Dot. + +Oh, how happy we were. Ruth made tea for us, and I sat in my favorite +low chair. The children scrambled up on Giles' knee, and he peeped at +me between their eager faces; but I was quite content to let them +engross him; it was pleasure enough for me to watch them. + +"Why, how grand you look, Essie!" Dot said at last. "Your fingers are +twinkling with green and white stones, and your dress rustles like old +Mrs. Jameson's." + + "'And she shall walk in silk attire, + And silver have to spare,'" + +sang Giles. "Never mind Dot, Esther. Your brave attire suits you well." + +"She looks very nice," put in Ruth, softly; "but she is our dear old +Esther all the same." + +"Nonsense, auntie," exclaimed Flurry, in her sharp little voice. "She +is not Esther any longer; she is my dear new mammy." At which we all +laughed. + +I was always mammy to Flurry, though my other darlings called me +mother; for before many years were over I had Dots of my own--dear +little fat Winnie, her brother Harold, and baby Geoffrey--to whom Ruth +was always "auntie," or "little auntie," as my mischievous Harold +called her. + +As the years passed on there were changes at Eltham Cottage--some of +them sad and some of them pleasant, after the bitter-sweet fashions of +life. + +The first great sorrow of my married life was dear mother's death. She +failed a little after Harold's birth, and, to my great grief, she never +saw my baby boy, Geoffrey. A few months before he came into the world +she sank peacefully and painlessly to rest. + +Fred came up to the funeral, and stayed with Allan; he had grown a long +beard, and looked very manly and handsome. His pictures were never +accepted by the hanging committee; and after a few years he grew tired +of his desultory work, and thankfully accepted a post Giles had +procured for him in the Colonies. After this he found his place in +life, and settled down, and when we last heard from him he was on the +eve of marriage with a Canadian girl. He sent us her photograph, and +both Giles and I approved of the open, candid face and smiling brown +eyes, and thought Fred had done well for himself. + +Allan was a long time making his choice; but at last it fell on our new +vicar's daughter, Emily Sherbourne; for, three years after our +marriage, Mr. Smedley had been attacked by sudden illness, which +carried him off. + +How pleased I was when Allan told me that he and Emmie had settled it +between them. She was such a sweet girl; not pretty, but with a +lovable, gentle face, and she had such simple kindly manners, so +different from the girls of the present day, who hide their good +womanly hearts under such abrupt loud ways. Emily, or, as we always +called her, Emmie, was not clever, but she suited Allan to a nicety. +She was wonderfully amiable, and bore his little irritabilities with +the most placid good humor; nothing put her out, and she believed in +him with a credulity that amused Allan largely; but he was very proud +of her, and they made the happiest couple in the world, with the +exception of Giles and me. + +Carrie lost her lameness, after all; but not until she had been up to +London and had undergone skillful treatment under the care of a very +skillful physician. I shall always remember Dot's joy when she took her +first walk without her crutches. She came down to the Cedars with Jack, +now a fine well-grown girl, and I shall never forget her sweet April +face of smiles and tears. + +"How good God has been to me, Essie," she whispered, as we sat together +under the cedar tree, while Jack ran off for her usual romp with Winnie +and Harold. "I have just had to lie quiet until I learned the lesson He +wanted me to learn years ago, and now He is making me so happy, and +giving me back my work." + +It was just so; Carrie had come out of her painful ordeal strengthened +and disciplined, and fit to teach others. No longer the weak, dreamy +girl who stretched out over-eager hands for the work God in His wise +providence withheld from her, she had emerged from her enforced +retirement a bright helpful woman, who carried about her a secret fund +of joy, of which no earthly circumstances could deprive her. + +"My sweet sister Charity," Allan called her, and the poor of Milnthorpe +had reason to bless her; for early and late she labored among them, +tending the sick and dying, working often at Allan's side among his +poorer patients. + +At home she was Uncle Geoffrey's comfort, and a most sweet companion +for him and Jack. As for Dot, he lived almost entirely at the Cedars. +Giles had grown very fond of him, and we neither of us could spare him. +They say he will always be a cripple; but what does that matter, when +he spends day after day so happily in the little room Giles has fitted +up for him? + +We believe, after all, Dot will be an artist. He has taken a lifelike +portrait of my Harold that has delighted Giles, and he vows that he +shall have all the advantages he can give him; for Giles is very +rich--so rich that I almost tremble at the thought of our +responsibilities; only I know my husband is a faithful steward, and +makes a good use of his talents. Carrie is his almoner, and sometimes I +work with her. There are some almshouses which Giles is building in +which I take great interest, and where I mean to visit the old people, +with Winnie trotting by my side. + +Just now Giles came in heated and tired. "What, little wife, still +scribbling?" + +"Wait a moment, dear Giles," I replied. "I have just finished." + +And so I have--the few scanty recollections of Esther Cameron's life. + + + +THE END. + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Esther, by Rosa Nouchette Carey + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ESTHER *** + +***** This file should be named 6850.txt or 6850.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/6/8/5/6850/ + +Produced by Avinash Kothare, Tom Allen, Charles Franks and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. HTML version by +Al Haines. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Esther + A Book for Girls + +Author: Rosa Nouchette Carey + +Release Date: November, 2004 [EBook #6850] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on February 2, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ESTHER *** + + + + +Produced by Avinash Kothare, Tom Allen, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + +ESTHER: + +A BOOK FOR GIRLS. + +BY + +ROSA NOUCHETTE CAREY + + + + +CONTENTS. + + +CHAPTER I. +The Last Day at Redmayne House. + +CHAPTER II. +The Arrival at Combe Manor. + +CHAPTER III. +Dot. + +CHAPTER IV. +Uncle Geoffrey. + +CHAPTER V. +The Old House at Milnthorpe. + +CHAPTER VI. +The Flitting. + +CHAPTER VII. +Over the Way. + +CHAPTER VIII. +Flurry and Flossy. + +CHAPTER IX. +The Cedars. + +CHAPTER X. +"I Wish I Had a Dot of My Own." + +CHAPTER XI. +Miss Ruth's Nurse. + +CHAPTER XII. +I Was Not Like Other Girls. + +CHAPTER XIII. +"We Have Missed Dame Bustle." + +CHAPTER XIV. +Playing in Tom Tidler's Ground. + +CHAPTER XV. +Life at the Brambles. + +CHAPTER XVI. +The Smugglers' Cave. + +CHAPTER XVII. +A Long Night. + +CHAPTER XVIII. +"You Brave Girl!" + +CHAPTER XIX. +A Letter from Home. + +CHAPTER XX. +"You Were Right, Esther." + +CHAPTER XXI. +Santa Claus. + +CHAPTER XXII. +Allan and I Walk to Eltham Green. + +CHAPTER XXIII. +Told in the Sunset. + +CHAPTER XXIV. +Ringing the Changes. + + + + +ESTHER + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +THE LAST DAY AT REDMAYNE HOUSE. + + +What trifles vex one! + +I was always sorry that my name was Esther; not that I found fault +with the name itself, but it was too grave, too full of meaning for +such an insignificant person. Some one who was learned in such +matters--I think it was Allan--told me once that it meant a star, or +good fortune. + +It may be so, but the real meaning lay for me in the marginal note +of my Bible: Esther, fair of form and good in countenance, that +Hadassah, who was brought to the palace of Shushan, the beautiful +Jewish queen who loved and succored her suffering people; truly a +bright particular star among them. + +Girls, even the best of them, have their whims and fancies, and I +never looked at myself in the glass on high days and holidays, when a +festive garb was desirable, without a scornful protest, dumbly +uttered, against so shining a name. There was such a choice, and I +would rather have been Deborah or Leah, or even plain Susan, or +Molly; anything homely, that would have suited my dark, low-browed +face. Tall and angular, and hard-featured--what business had I with +such a name? + +"My dear, beauty is only skin-deep, and common sense is worth its +weight in gold; and you are my good sensible Esther," my mother said +once, when I had hinted rather too strongly at my plainness. Dear +soul, she was anxious to appease the pangs of injured vanity, and was +full of such sweet, balmy speeches; but girls in the ugly duckling +stage are not alive to moral compliments; and, well--perhaps I hoped +my mother might find contradiction possible. + +Well, I am older and wiser now, less troublesomely introspective, +and by no means so addicted to taking my internal structure to +pieces, to find out how the motives and feelings work; but all the +same, I hold strongly to diversity of gifts. I believe beauty is a +gift, one of the good things of God; a very special talent, for which +the owner must give account. But enough of this moralizing, for I +want to speak of a certain fine afternoon in the year of our Lord, +18--well, never mind the date. + +It was one of our red-letter days at Redmayne House--in other words, +a whole holiday; we always had a whole holiday on Miss Majoribanks' +birthday. The French governess had made a grand toilette, and had +gone out for the day. Fraulein had retired to her own room, and was +writing a long sentimental effusion to a certain "liebe Anna," who +lived at Heidelberg. As Fraulein had taken several of us into +confidence, we had heard a great deal of this Anna von Hummel, a +little round-faced German, with flaxen plaits and china-blue eyes, +like a doll; and Jessie and I had often wondered at this strong +Teutonic attachment. Most of the girls were playing croquet--they +played croquet then--on the square lawn before the drawing-room +windows; the younger ones were swinging in the lime-walk. Jessie and +I had betaken ourselves with our books to a corner we much affected, +where there was a bench under a may-tree. + +Jessie was my school friend--chum, I think we called it; she was a +fair, pretty girl, with a thoroughly English face, a neat compact +figure, and manners which every one pronounced charming and lady-like; +her mind was lady-like too, which was the best of all. + +Jessie read industriously--her book seemed to rivet her attention; +but I was restless and distrait. The sun was shining on the limes, +and the fresh green leaves seemed to thrill and shiver with life: a +lazy breeze kept up a faint soughing, a white butterfly was hovering +over the pink may, the girls' shrill voices sounded everywhere; a +thousand undeveloped thoughts, vague and unsubstantial as the +sunshine above us, seemed to blend with the sunshine and voices. + +"Jessie, do put down your book--I want to talk." Jessie raised her +eyebrows a little quizzically but she was always amiable; she had +that rare unselfishness of giving up her own will ungrudgingly; I +think this was why I loved her so. Her story was interesting, but she +put down her book without a sigh. + +"You are always talking, Esther," she said, with a provoking little +smile; "but then," she added, quickly, as though she were afraid that +I should think her unkind, "I never heard other girls talk so well." + +"Nonsense," was my hasty response: "don't put me out of temper with +myself. I was indulging in a little bit of philosophy while you were +deep in the 'Daisy Chain.' I was thinking what constituted a great +mind." + +Jessie opened her eyes widely, but she did not at once reply; she +was not, strictly speaking, a clever girl, and did not at once grasp +any new idea; our conversations were generally rather one-sided. Emma +Hardy, who was our school wag, once observed that I used Jessie's +brains as an airing-place for my ideas. Certainly Jessie listened +more than she talked, but then, she listened so sweetly. + +"Of course, Alfred the Great, and Sir Philip Sidney, and Princess +Elizabeth of France, and all the heroes and heroines of old time--all +the people who did such great things and lived such wonderful lives +--may be said to have had great minds; but I am not thinking about +them. I want to know what makes a great mind, and how one is to get +it. There is Carrie, now, you know how good she is; I think she may +be said to have one." + +"Carrie--your sister?" + +"Why, yes," I returned, a little impatiently; for certainly Jessie +could not think I meant that stupid, peevish little Carrie Steadman, +the dullest girl in the school; and whom else should I mean, but +Carrie, my own dear sister, who was two years older than I, and who +was as good as she was pretty, and who set us all such an example of +unworldliness and self-denial; and Jessie had spent the Christmas +holidays at our house, and had grown to know and love her too; and +yet she could doubt of whom I was speaking; it could not be denied +that Jessie was a little slow. + +"Carrie is so good," I went on, when I had cooled a little, "I am +sure she has a great mind. When I read of Mrs. Judson and Elizabeth +Fry, or of any of those grand creatures, I always think of Carrie. +How few girls of nineteen would deprive themselves of half their +dress allowance, that they might devote it to the poor; she has given +up parties because she thinks them frivolous and a waste of time; and +though she plays so beautifully, mother can hardly get her to +practice, because she says it is a pity to devote so much time to a +mere accomplishment, when she might be at school, or reading to poor +old Betty Martin." + +"She might do both," put in Jessie, rather timidly; for she never +liked contradicting any of my notions, however far-fetched and +ill-assorted they might be. "Do you know, Esther, I fancy your mother +is a little sorry that Carrie is so unlike other girls; she told me once +that she thought it such a pity that she had let her talents rust +after all the money that had been spent on her education." + +"You must have misunderstood my mother," I returned, somewhat +loftily; "I heard her once say to Uncle Geoffrey that she thought +Carrie was almost perfection. You have no idea how much Mr. Arnold +thinks of her; he is always holding her up as his pattern young lady +in the parish, and declares that he should not know what to do +without her. She plays the organ at all the week-day services, and +teaches at the Sunday school, and she has a district now, and a +Bible-class for the younger girls. No wonder she cannot find time to +practice, or to keep up her drawing." And I looked triumphantly at +Jessie; but her manner did not quite please me. She might not be +clever, but she had a good solid set of opinions to which she could +hold stoutly enough. + +"Don't think me disagreeable, Esther," she pleaded. "I think a great +deal of Carrie; she is very sweet, and pretty, and good, and we +should all be better if we were more like her; but no one is quite +faultless, and I think even Carrie makes mistakes at times." + +"Oh, of course!" I answered a little crossly, for I could not bear +her finding fault with Carrie, who was such a paragon in my eyes. But +Jessie took no notice of my manner, she was such a wise little +creature; and I cannot help thinking that the less importance we +attach to people's manner the better. Under a little roughness there +is often good stuff, and some good people are singularly unfortunate +in manner. + +So Jessie went on in her gentle way, "Do you remember Miss +Majoribanks' favorite copy: 'Moderation in all things'? I think this +ought to apply to everything we do. We had an old nurse once, who +used to say such droll things to us children. I remember I had been +very good, and done something very wonderful, as I thought, and +nursie said to me in her dry way, 'Well, Miss Jessie, my dear, duty +is not a hedgehog, that you should be bristling all over in that way. +There is no getting at you to-day, you are too fully armed at all +points for praise.' And she would not say another word; and another +time, when I thought I ought to have been commended; she said, 'Least +done is soonest mended; and well done is not ill done, and that is +all about it.' Poor old nurse! she would never praise any one." + +"But, Jessie--how does this apply to Carrie?" + +"Well, not very much, I dare say; only I think Carrie overdoes her +duty sometimes. I remember one evening your mother look so +disappointed when Carrie said she was too tired to sing." + +"You mean the evening when the Scobells were there, and Carrie had +been doing parish work all the day, and she came in looking so pale +and fagged? I thought mother was hard on her that night. Carrie cried +about it afterward in my room." + +"Oh, Esther, I thought she spoke so gently! She only said, 'Would it +not have been better to have done a little less to-day, and reserved +yourself for our friends? We ought never to disappoint people if we +can help it.'" + +"Yes; only mother looked as if she were really displeased; and +Carrie could not bear that; she said in her last letter that mother +did not sympathize entirely in her work, and that she missed me +dreadfully, for the whole atmosphere was rather chilling sometimes." + +Jessie looked a little sorry at this. "No one could think that of +your home, Esther." And she sighed, for her home was very different +from ours. Her parents were dead, and as she was an only child, she +had never known the love of brother or sister; and the aunt who +brought her up was a strict narrow-minded sort of person, with +manners that must have been singularly uncongenial to my +affectionate, simple-minded Jessie. Poor Jessie! I could not help +giving her one of my bear-like hugs at this, so well did I know the +meaning of that sigh; and there is no telling into what channel our +talk would have drifted, only just at that moment Belle Martin, the +pupil-teacher, appeared in sight, walking very straight and fast, and +carrying her chin in an elevated fashion, a sort of practical +exposition of Madame's "Heads up, young ladies!" But this was only +her way, and Belle was a good creature. + +"You are to go in at once, Miss Cameron," she called out, almost +before she reached us. "Miss Majoribanks has sent me to look for you; +your uncle is with her in the drawing-room." + +"Uncle Geoffrey? Oh, my dear Uncle Geoff!" I exclaimed, joyfully. +"Do you really mean it, Belle?" + +"Yes, Dr. Cameron is in the drawing-room," repeated Belle. But I +never noticed how grave her voice was. She commenced whispering to +Jessie almost before I was a yard away, and I thought I heard an +exclamation in Jessie's voice; but I only said to myself, "Oh, my +dear Uncle Geoff!" in a tone of suppressed ecstasy, and I looked +round on the croquet players as I threaded the lawn with a sense of +pity that not one of them possessed an uncle like mine. + +Miss Majoribanks was seated in state, in her well-preserved black +satin gown, with her black gloves reposing in her lap, looking rather +like a feminine mute; but on this occasion I took no notice of her. I +actually forgot my courtesy, and I am afraid I made one of my awkward +rushes, for Miss Majoribanks groaned slightly, though afterward she +turned it into a cough. + +"Why, Esther, you are almost a woman now," said my uncle, putting me +in front of him, and laying his heavy hand on my shoulder. "Bless me, +how the child has grown, and how unlike she is to Carrie!" + +"I was seventeen yesterday," I answered, pouting a little, for I +understood the reference to Carrie; and was I not the ugly duckling? +--but I would not keep up the sore feeling a minute, I was so pleased +to see him. + +No one would call Uncle Geoffrey handsome--oh, dear, no! his +features were too rugged for that; but he had a droll, clever face, +and a pair of honest eyes, and his gray hair was so closely cropped +that it looked like a silver cap. He was a little restless and +fidgety in his movements, too, and had ways that appeared singular to +strangers, but I always regarded his habits respectfully. Clever men, +I thought, were often eccentric; and I was quite angry with my mother +when she used to say, "Geoff was an old bachelor, and he wanted a +wife to polish him; I should like to see any woman dare to marry +Uncle Geoff." + +"Seventeen, sweet seventeen! Eh, Esther?" but he still held my hand +and looked at me thoughtfully. It was then I first noticed how grave +he looked. + +"Have you come from Combe Manor, Uncle Geoff, and are they all quite +well at home?" I asked, rather anxiously, for he seemed decidedly +nervous. + +"Well, no," he returned, rather slowly; "I am sorry to spoil your +holiday, child, but I have come by your mother's express desire to +fetch you home. Frank--your father, I mean--is not well, and they +will be glad of your help and--bless me"--Uncle Geoff's favorite +exclamation--"how pale the girl looks!" + +"You are keeping something from me--he is very ill--I know he is +very ill!" I exclaimed, passionately. "Oh, uncle, do speak out! he is +--" but I could not finish my sentence, only Uncle Geoffrey understood. + +"No, no, it is not so bad as that," putting his arm round me, for I +was trembling and shaking all over; "he is very ill--I dare not deny +that there is much ground for fear; but Esther, we ought to lose no +time in getting away from here. Will you swallow this glass of wine, +like a good, brave child, and then pack up your things as soon as +possible?" + +There was no resisting Uncle Geoffrey's coaxing voice; all his +patients did what he told them, so I drank the wine, and tried to +hurry from the room, only my knees felt so weak. + +"Miss Martin will assist you," whispered Miss Majoribanks, as I +passed her; and, sure enough, as I entered the dormitory, there was +Belle emptying my drawers, with Jessie helping her. Even in my +bewildered state of wretchedness I wondered why Miss Majoribanks +thought it necessary for me to take all my things. Was I bidding good-by +to Redmayne House? + +Belle looked very kindly at me as she folded my dresses, but Jessie +came up to me with tears in her eyes. "Oh, Esther!" she whispered, +"how strange to think we were talking as we were, and now the +opportunity has come?" and though her speech was a little vague, I +understood it; she meant the time for me to display my greatness of +mind--ah, me! my greatness of mind--where was it? I was of no use at +all; the girls did it all between them, while I sat on the edge of my +little bed and watched them. They were as quick as possible, and yet +it seemed hours before the box was locked, and Belle had handed me +the key; by-and-by, Miss Majoribanks came and fetched me down, for +she said the fly was at the door, and Dr. Cameron was waiting. + +We girls had never cared much for Miss Majoribanks, but nothing +could exceed her kindness then. I think the reason why schoolmistresses +are not often beloved by their pupils--though there certainly are +exceptions to that rule--is that they do not often show their good hearts. + +When Miss Majoribanks buttoned my gloves for me, and smoothed my +hair, and gave me that motherly kiss, I felt I loved her. "God bless +you my dear child! we shall all miss you; you have worked well and +been a credit to the establishment. I am sorry indeed to part with +you." Actually these were Miss Majoribanks' words, and spoken, too, +in a husky voice! + +And when I got downstairs, there were all the girls, many of them +with their croquet mallets in their hands, gathered in the front +garden, and little Susie Pierrepoint, the baby of the school, +carrying a large bunch of lavender and sweet-william from her own +little garden, which she thrust into my hands. + +"They are for you," cried Susie; and then they all crowded round and +kissed me. + +"Good-by, Esther; we are so sorry to lose you; write to us and let +us know how you are." + +Jessie's pale little face came last. "Oh, my darling! how I shall be +thinking of you!" cried the affectionate creature; and then I broke +down, and Uncle Geoffrey led me away. + +"I am glad to see your school-fellows love you," he said, as we +drove off, and Redmayne House became lost to sight. "Human affection +is a great boon, Esther." + +Dear Uncle Geoffrey! he wanted to comfort me; but for some time I +would not speak or listen. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE ARRIVAL AT COMBE MANOR. + + +The great secret of Uncle Geoffrey's influence with people was a +certain quiet undemonstrative sympathy. He did not talk much; he was +rather given to letting people alone, but his kindliness of look made +his few spoken words more precious than the voluble condolences of +others. + +He made no effort to check the torrent of tears that followed my +first stunned feelings; indeed, his "Poor child!" so tenderly +uttered, only made them flow more quickly. It was not until we were +seated in the railway compartment, and I had dried them of my own +accord, that he attempted to rouse me by entering into conversation, +and yet there was much that he knew must be said, only "great haste, +small speed," was always Uncle Geoffrey's favorite motto. "There is +time for all things, and much more," as he used to tell us. + +"Are you better now?" he asked, kindly. "That is right; put your +handkerchief away, and we can have a little talk together. You are a +sensible girl, Esther, and have a wise little head on your shoulders. +Tell me, my child, had you any idea of any special anxiety or trouble +that was preying on your father's mind?" + +"No, indeed," I returned, astonished. "I knew the farm was doing +badly, and father used to complain now and then of Fred's +extravagance, and mother looked once or twice very worried, but we +did not think much about it." + +"Then I am afraid what I am going to tell you will be a great +shock," he returned, gravely. "Your father and mother must have had +heavy anxieties lately, though they have kept it from you children. +The cause of your father's illness is mental trouble. I must not hide +from you, Esther, that he is ruined." + +"Ruined!" I tried to repeat the word aloud, but it died on my lips. + +"A man with a family ought not to speculate," went on my uncle, +speaking more to himself than me. "What did Frank know about the +business? About as much as Fred does about art. He has spent +thousands on the farm, and it has been a dead loss from the +beginning. He knew as much about farming as Carrie does. Stuff and +nonsense! And then he must needs dabble in shares for Spanish mines; +and that new-fangled Wheal Catherine affair that has gone to smash +lately. Every penny gone; and a wife, and--how many of you are there, +Esther?" + +But I was too much overwhelmed to help him in his calculation, so he +commenced striking off on his fingers, one by one. + +"Let me see; there's Fred, brought up, young coxcomb! to think +himself a fine gentleman and an artist, with almost as much notion of +work as I have of piano playing; and Allan, who has more brains than +the rest of you put together; and Carrie, who is half a saint and +slightly hysterical; and your poor little self; and then comes that +nondescript article Jack. Why in the world do you call a feminine +creature Jack? And poor little Dot, who will never earn a penny for +himself--humph, six of you to clothe and feed--" + +"Oh, Uncle Geoff!" I burst out, taking no notice of this long +tirade; and what did it matter if Dot never earned anything when I +would work my fingers to the bone for him, the darling! "oh, Uncle +Geoff, are things really so bad as that? Will Fred be obliged to give +up his painting, when he has been to Rome, too; and shall we have to +leave Combe Manor, and the farm? Oh, what will they all do? and +Carrie, too?" + +"Work," was the somewhat grim reply, and then he went on in a milder +tone. "Things are very bad, Esther; about as bad as they can be--for +we must look matters in the face--and your father is very ill, and +there is no knowing where the mischief may end; but you must all put +your shoulders to the domestic wheel, and push it up the Hill +Difficulty. It is a crisis, and a very painful one, but it will prove +which of you has the right mettle. + +"I am not afraid of Allan," he went on; "the lad has plenty of good +stuff in him; and I am not much afraid of you, Esther, at least I +think not; but--" He hesitated, and then stopped, and I knew he was +thinking of Fred and Carrie; but he need not. Of course Carrie would +work as heartily as any of us; idling was never her forte; and Fred +--well, perhaps Fred was not always industrious. + +I seemed to have lost myself in a perfect tangle of doubt and dread. +Uncle Geoffrey went on with his talk, half sad and half moralizing, +but I could not follow all he said. Two thoughts were buzzing about +me like hornets. Father was ill, very ill, and we should have to +leave Combe Manor. The sting of these thoughts was dreadful. + +I seemed to rouse out of a nightmare when Uncle Geoffrey suddenly +announced that we were at Crowbridge. No one was waiting for us at +the station, which somewhat surprised me; but Combe Manor was not a +quarter of a mile off, so the luggage was wheeled away on a truck, +and Uncle Geoffrey and I walked after it, up the sandy lane, and +round by the hazel copse. And there were the fields, where Dapple, +the gray mare, was feeding; and there were Cherry and Spot, and +Brindle, and all the rest of the dear creatures, rubbing their horned +heads against the hedge as usual; and two or three of them standing +knee-deep in the great shallow pool, where Fred and Allan used to +sail their boats, and make believe it was the Atlantic. We always +called the little bit of sedgy ground under the willow America, and +used to send freights of paper and cardboard across the mimic ocean, +which did not always arrive safely. + +How lovely and peaceful it all looked on this June evening! The sun +shone on the red brick house and old-fashioned casements; roses were +climbing everywhere, on the walls, round the porch, over the very +gateway. Fred was leaning against the gate, in his brown velveteen +coat and slouched hat, looking so handsome and picturesque, poor +fellow! He had a Gloire de Dijon in his button-hole. I remember I +wondered vaguely how he had had the heart to pick it. + +"How is he?" called out Uncle Geoffrey. And Fred started, for though +he was watching for us he had not seen us turn the corner of the lane. + +"No better," was the disconsolate answer, as he unlatched the gate, +and stooped over it to kiss me. "We are expecting Allan down by the +next train, and Carrie asked me to look out for you; how do you do, +Esther? What have you done to yourself?" eyeing me with a mixture of +chagrin and astonishment. I suppose crying had not improved my +appearance; still, Fred need not have noticed my red eyes; but he was +one who always "looked on the outward appearance." + +"She is tired and unhappy, poor little thing," repeated Uncle +Geoffrey, answering for me, as he drew my arm through his. "I hope +Carrie has got some tea for her;" and as he spoke Carrie came out in +the porch to meet us. How sweet she looked, the "little nun," as Fred +always called her, in her gray dress; with her smooth fair hair and +pale pretty face. + +"Poor Esther, how tired you look!" she said, kissing me +affectionately, but quietly--Carrie was always a little +undemonstrative--"but I have got tea for you in the brown room" (we +always called it the brown room, because it was wainscoted in oak); +"will you have it now, or would you like to see mother?" + +"You had better have tea first and see your mother afterward," +observed Uncle Geoffrey; but I would not take this prudent counsel. +On the stairs I came upon Jack, curled up on a window-sill, with +Smudge, our old black cat, in her arms, and was welcomed by both of +them with much effusion. Jack was a tall, thin girl, all legs and +arms, with a droll, freckled face and round blue eyes, with all the +awkwardness of fourteen, and none of its precocity. Her real name was +Jacqueline, but we had always called her Jack, for brevity, and +because, with her cropped head and rough ways, she resembled a boy +more than a girl; her hair was growing now, and hung about her neck +in short ungainly lengths, but I doubt whether in its present stage +it was any improvement. I am not at all sure strangers considered +Jack a prepossessing child, she was so awkward and overgrown, but I +liked her droll face immensely. Fred was always finding fault with +her and snubbing her, which brought him nothing but pert replies; +then he would entreat mother to send her to school, but somehow she +never went. Dot could not spare her, and mother thought there was +plenty of time, so Jack still roamed about at her own sweet will; +riding Dapple barebacked round the paddock, milking Cherry, and +feeding the chickens; carrying on some pretense at lessons with +Carrie, who was not a very strict mistress, and plaguing Fred, who +had nice ways and hated any form of untidiness. + +"Oh, you dear thing!" cried Jack, leaping from the window-seat and +nearly strangling me, while Smudge rubbed himself lovingly against my +dress; "oh, you dear, darling, delightful old Esther, how pleased I +am to see you!" (Certainly Jack was not undemonstrative.) "Oh, it has +been so horrid the last few days--father ill, and mother always with +him, and Fred as cross as two sticks, and Carrie always too busy or +too tired for any one to speak to her; and Dot complaining of pain in +his back and not caring to play, oh!" finished Jack, with a long-drawn +sigh, "it has been almost too horrid." + +"Hush, Jack," was my sole reply; for there was dear mother coming +down the passage toward us. I had only been away from her two months, +and yet it struck me that her hair was grayer and her face was +thinner than it used to be, and there were lines on her forehead that +I never remember to have seen before; but she greeted me in her old +affectionate way, putting back my hair from my face to look at me, +and calling me her dear child. "But I must not stop a moment, +Esther," she said hurriedly, "or father will miss me; take off your +hat, and rest and refresh yourself, and then you shall come up and +see him." + +"But, mother, where is Dot?" + +"In there," motioning toward the sick room; "he is always there, we +cannot keep him out," and her lip trembled. When Jack and I returned +to the brown room, we found the others gathered round the table. +Carrie, who was pouring out the tea, pointed to the seat beside her. + +It was the first dreary meal I had ever remembered in the brown +room; my first evening at home had always been so happy. The shallow +blue teacups and tiny plates always seemed prettier than other +people's china, and nothing ever tasted so delicious as our home-made +brown bread and butter. + +But this evening the flavor seemed spoiled. Carrie sat in mother's +place looking sad and abstracted, and fingering her little silver +cross nervously. Fred was downcast and out of spirits, returning only +brief replies to Uncle Geoffrey's questions, and only waking up to +snub Jack if she spoke a word. Oh, how I wished Allan would make his +appearance and put us all right! It was quite a relief when I heard +mother's voice calling me, and she took me into the great cool room +where father lay. + +Dot was curled up in mother's great arm-chair, with his favorite +book of natural history; he slipped a hot little hand in mine as I +passed him. + +Dot was our name for him because he was so little, but he had been +called Frank, after our father; he was eight years old, but he hardly +looked bigger than a child of six. His poor back was crooked, and he +was lame from hip-disease; sometimes for weeks together the cruel +abscesses wasted his strength, at other times he was tolerably free +from pain; even at his worst times Dot was a cheery invalid, for he +was a bright, patient little fellow. He had a beautiful little face, +too, though perhaps the eyes were a trifle too large for the thin +features; but Dot was my pet, and I could see no fault in him; +nothing angered me more than when people pitied him or lamented over +his infirmity. When I first came home the sound of his crutch on the +floor was the sweetest music in my ear. But I had no eyes even for +Dot after my first look at father. Oh, how changed, how terribly +changed he was! The great wave of brown hair over his forehead was +gray, his features were pinched and haggard, and when he spoke to me +his voice was different, and he seemed hardly able to articulate. + +"Poor children--poor children!" he groaned; and as I kissed his +cheek he said, "Be a good girl, Esther, and try to be a comfort to +your mother." + +"When I am a man I shall try and be a comfort too," cried Dot, in +his sharp chirpy voice; it quite startled father. + +"That's my brave boy," said father, faintly, and I think there were +tears in his eyes. "Dora"--my mother's name was Dora--"I am too tired +to talk; let the children go now, and come and sit by me while I go +to sleep;" and mother gently dismissed us. + +I had rather a difficulty with Dot when I got outside, for he +suddenly lowered his crutch and sat down on the floor. + +"I don't want to go to bed," he announced, decidedly. "I shall sit +here all night, in case mother wants me; when it gets dark she may +feel lonely." + +"But, Dot, mother will be grieved if she comes out and finds you +here; she has anxiety enough as it is; and if you make yourself ill, +too, you will only add to her trouble. Come, be a good boy, and let +me help you to undress." But I might as well have talked to Smudge. +Dot had these obstinate fits at times; he was tired, and his nerves +were shaken by being so many hours in the sick room, and nothing +would have induced him to move. I was so tired at last that I sat +down on the floor, too, and rested my head against the door, and Dot +sat bolt upright like a watchful little dog, and in this ridiculous +position we were discovered by Allan. I had not heard of his arrival; +and when he came toward us, springing lightly up two stairs at a +time, I could not help uttering a suppressed exclamation of delight. + +He stopped at once and looked at us in astonishment. "Dot and +Esther! in the name of all that is mysterious; huddled up like two +Chinese gods on the matting. Why, I took Esther for a heap of clothes +in the twilight." Of course I told him how it happened. Dot was +naughty and would not move, and I was keeping him company. Allan +hardly heard me out before he had shouldered Dot, crutch and all, and +was walking off with him down the passage. "Wait for me a few +minutes, Esther," he whispered; and I betook myself to the window-seat +and looked over the dusky garden, where the tall white lilies +looked like ghostly flowers in the gloom. + +It was a long time before Allan rejoined me. "That is a curious +little body," he said, half laughing, as he sat down beside me. "I +had quite a piece of work with him for carrying him off in that +fashion; he said 'I was a savage, a great uncivilized man, to take +such a mean advantage of him; If I were big I would fight you,' he +said, doubling his fists; he looked such a miserable little atom of a +chap as he said it." + +"Was he really angry?" I asked, for Dot was so seldom out of temper. + +"Angry, I believe you. He was in a towering rage; but he is all +right now, so you need not go to him. I stroked him down, and praised +him for his good intentions, and then I told him I was a doctor now, +and no one contradicted my orders, and that he must be a good boy and +let me help him to bed. Poor little fellow; he sobbed all the time he +was undressing, he is so fond of father. I am afraid it will go badly +with him if things turn out as I fear they will," and Allan's voice +was very grave. + +We had a long talk after that, until Uncle Geoffrey came upstairs +and dislodged us, by carrying Allan off. It was such a comfort to +have him all to myself; we had been so much separated of late years. + +Allan was five years older than I; he was only a year younger than +Fred, but the difference between them was very great. Allan looked +the elder of the two; he was not so tall as Fred, but he was strongly +built and sturdy; he was dark-complexioned, and his features were +almost as irregular as mine; but in a man that did not so much +matter, and very few people called Allan plain. + +Allan had always been my special brother--most sisters know what I +mean by that term. Allan was undemonstrative; he seldom petted or +made much of me, but a word from him was worth a hundred from Fred; +and there was a quiet unspoken sympathy between us that was +sufficiently palpable. If Allan wanted his gloves mended he always +came to me, and not to Carrie. I was his chief correspondent, and he +made me the confidante of his professional hopes and fears. In +return, he good-humoredly interested himself in my studies, directed +my reading, and considered himself at liberty to find fault with +everything that did not please him. He was a little peremptory +sometimes, but I did not mind that half so much as Fred's sarcasms; +and he never distressed me as Fred did, by laughing at my large +hands, or wondering why I was not so natty in my dress as Carrie. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +DOT. + + +I went to my room to unpack my things, and by-and-by Carrie joined me. + +I half hoped that she meant to help me, but she sat down by the +window and said, with a sigh, how tired she was; and certainly her +eyes had a weary look. + +She watched me for some time in silence, but once or twice she +sighed very heavily. + +"I wish you could leave those things, Esther," she said, at last, +not pettishly--Carrie was never pettish--but a little too +plaintively. "I have not had a creature to whom I could talk since +you left home in April." + +The implied compliment was very nice, but I did not half like +leaving my things--I was rather old-maidish in my ways, and never +liked half measures; but I remembered reading once about "the lust of +finishing," and what a test of unselfishness it was to put by a +half-completed task cheerfully at the call of another duty. Perhaps it +was my duty to leave my unpacking and listen to Carrie, but there was +one little point in her speech that did not please me. + +"You could talk to mother," I objected; for mother always listened +to one so nicely. + +"I tried it once, but mother did not understand," sighed Carrie. I +used to wish she did not sigh so much. "We had quite an argument, but +I saw it was no use--that I should never bring her to my way of +thinking. She was brought up so differently; girls were allowed so +little liberty then. My notions seemed to distress her. She said that +I was peculiar, and that I carried things too far, and that she +wished I were more like other girls; and then she kissed me, and said +I was very good, and she did not mean to hurt me; but she thought +home had the first claim; and so on. You know mother's way." + +"I think mother was right there--you think so yourself, do you not +Carrie?" I asked anxiously, for this seemed to me the A B C of common +sense. + +"Oh, of course," rather hastily. "Charity begins at home, but it +ought not to stop there. If I chose to waste my time practicing for +Fred's violin, and attending to all his thousand and one fads and +fancies, what would become of all my parish work? You should have +heard Mr. Arnold's sermon last Sunday, Esther; he spoke of the misery +and poverty and ignorance that lay around us outside our homes, and +of the loiterers and idlers within those homes." And Carrie's eyes +looked sad and serious. + +"That is true," I returned, and then I stopped, and Jessie's words +came to my mind, "Even Carrie makes mistakes at times." For the first +time in my life the thought crossed me; in my absence would it not +have been better for Carrie to have been a little more at home? It +was Jessie's words and mother's careworn face that put the thought +into my head; but the next moment I had dismissed it as heresy. My +good, unselfish Carrie, it was impossible that she could make +mistakes! Carrie's next speech chimed in well with my unspoken +thoughts. + +"Home duties come first, of course, Esther--no one in their senses +could deny such a thing; but we must be on our guard against make- +believe duties. It is my duty to help mother by teaching Jack, and I +give her two hours every morning; but when Fred comes into the +schoolroom with some nonsensical request that would rob me of an hour +or so, I am quite right not to give way to him. Do you think," +warming into enthusiasm over her subject, "that Fred's violin playing +ought to stand in the way of any real work that will benefit souls as +well as bodies--that will help to reclaim ignorance and teach +virtue?" And Carrie's beautiful eyes grew dark and dewy with feeling. +I wish mother could have seen her; something in her expression +reminded me of a picture of Faith I had once seen. + +"Oh, Esther," she continued, for I was too moved to answer her, +"every day I live I long to give myself more entirely to benefiting +my fellow creatures. Girl as I am, I mean to join the grand army of +workers--that is what Mr. Arnold called them. Oh, how I wish I could +remember all he said! He told us not to be disheartened by petty +difficulties, or to feel lonely because, perhaps, those who were our +nearest and dearest discouraged our efforts or put obstacles in our +way. 'You think you are alone,' he said, 'when you are one of the +rank and file in that glorious battalion. There are thousands working +with you and around you, although you cannot see them.' And then he +exhorted us who were young to enter this crusade." + +"But, Carrie," I interrupted, somewhat mournfully, for I was tired +and a little depressed, "I am afraid our work is already cut out for +us, and we shall have to do it however little pleased we may be with +the pattern. From what Uncle Geoffrey tells me, we shall be very +poor." + +"I am not afraid of poverty, Esther." + +"But still you will be grieved to leave Combe Manor," I persisted. +"Perhaps we shall have to live in a little pokey house somewhere, and +to go out as governesses." + +"Perhaps so," she answered, serenely; "but I shall still find time +for higher duties. I shall be a miser, and treasure all my minutes. +But I have wasted nearly half-an-hour now; but it is such a luxury to +talk to somebody who can understand." And then she kissed me +affectionately and bade me hasten to bed, for it was getting late, +and I looked sadly tired; but it never entered into her head to help +me put away the clothes that strewed my room, though I was aching in +every limb from grief and fatigue. If one looks up too much at the +clouds one stumbles against rough stones sometimes. Star gazing is +very sweet and elevating, but it is as well sometimes to pick up the +homely flowers that grow round our feet. "What does Carrie mean by +higher duties?" I grumbled, as I sought wearily to evoke order out of +chaos. "To work for one's family is as much a duty as visiting the +poor." I could not solve the problem; Carrie was too vague for me +there; but I went to bed at last, and dreamed that we two were +building houses on the seashore. Carrie's was the prettier, for it +was all of sea-weed and bright-colored shells that looked as though +the sun were shining on them, while mine was made of clay, tempered +by mortar. + +"Oh, Carrie, I like yours best" I cried, disconsolately; yet as I +spoke a long tidal wave came up and washed the frail building away. +But though mine filled with foamy water, the rough walls remained +entire, and then I looked at it again the receding wave had strewn +its floors with small shining pearls. + +I must pass over the record of the next few days, for they were so +sad--so sad, even now, I cannot think of them without tears. On the +second day after my return, dear father had another attack, and +before many hours were over we knew we were orphans. + +Two things stood out most prominently during that terrible week; +dear mother's exceeding patience and Dot's despair. Mother gave us +little trouble. She lay on her couch weeping silently, but no word of +complaint or rebellion crossed her lips; she liked us to sit beside +her and read her soothing passages of Scripture, and she was very +thoughtful and full of pity for us all. Her health was never very +good, and just now her strength had given way utterly. Uncle Geoffrey +would not hear of her exerting herself, and, indeed, she looked so +frail and broken that even Fred got alarmed about her. + +Carrie was her principal companion, for Dot took all my attention; +and, indeed, it nearly broke our hearts to see him. + +Uncle Geoffrey had carried him from the room when father's last +attack had come on. Jack was left in charge of him, and the rest of +us were gathered in the sick room. I was the first to leave when all +was over, for I thought of Dot and trembled; but as I opened the door +there he was, crouched down in a little heap at the entrance, with +Jack sobbing beside him. + +"I took away his crutch, but he crawled all the way on his hands and +knees," whispered Jack; and then Allan came out and stood beside me. + +"Poor little fellow!" he muttered; and Dot lifted his miserable +little white face, and held out his arms. + +"Take me in," he implored. "Father's dead, for I heard you all +crying; but I must kiss him once more." + +"I don't think it will hurt him," observed Allan, in a low voice. +"He will only imagine all sorts of horrors--and he looks so +peaceful," motioning toward the closed door. + +"I will be so good," implored the poor child, "if you only take me +in." And Allan, unable to resist any longer, lifted him in his arms. + +I did not go in, for I could not have borne it. Carrie told me +afterward that Allan cried like a child when Dot nestled up to the +dead face and began kissing and stroking it. + +"You are my own father, though you look so different," he whispered. +"I wish you were not so cold. I wish you could look and speak to me +--I am your little boy Dot--you were always so fond of Dot, father. Let +me go with you; I don't want to live any longer without you," and so +on, until Uncle Geoffrey made Allan take him away. + +Oh, how good Allan was to him! He lay down by his side all night, +soothing him and talking to him, for Dot never slept. The next day we +took turns to be with him, and so on day after day; but I think Dot +liked Allan best. + +"He is most like father," he said once, which, perhaps, explained +the preference; but then Allan had so much tact and gentleness. Fred +did not understand him at all; he called him odd and uncanny, which +displeased us both. + +One evening I had been reading to mother, and afterward I went up to +Dot. He had been very feverish and had suffered much all day, and +Allan had scarcely left him; but toward evening he had grown quieter. +I found Jack beside him; they were making up garlands for the grave; +it was Dot's only occupation just now. + +"Look here, Essie," he cried, eagerly. "Is not this a splendid +wreath? We are making it all of pansies--they were father's favorite +flowers. He always called them floral butterflies. Fancy a wreath of +butterflies!" and Dot gave a weak little laugh. It was a very ghost +of a laugh, but it was his first, and I hailed it joyfully. I praised +the quaint stiff wreath. In its way it was picturesque. The rich hues +of the pansies blended well--violet and gold; it was a pretty idea, +laying heartsease on the breast that would never know anxiety again. + +"When I get better," continued Dot, "I am going to make such a +beautiful little garden by dear father. Jack and I have been planning +it. We are going to have rose-trees and lilies of the valley and +sweet peas--father was so fond of sweet peas; and in the spring +snowdrops and crocuses and violets. Allan says I may do it." + +"Yes, surely, Dot." + +"I wonder what father is doing now?" he exclaimed, suddenly, putting +by the unfinished wreath a little wearily. "I think the worst of +people dying is that we cannot find out what they are doing," and his +eyes grew large and wistful. Alas! Dot, herein lies the sting of +death--silence so insupportable and unbroken! + +"Shall I read you your favorite chapter?" I asked, softly; for every +day Dot made us read to him the description of that City with its +golden streets and gem-built walls; but he shook his head, + +"It glitters too much for my head to-night," he said, quaintly; "it +is too bright and shining. I would rather think of dear father +walking in those green pastures, with all the good people who have +died. It must be very beautiful there, Esther. But I think father +would be happier if I were with him." + +"Oh, Dot, no!" for the bare idea pained me; and I felt I must argue +this notion away. "Allan and I could not spare you, or mother either; +and there's Jack--what would poor Jack do without her playfellow?" + +"I don't feel I shall ever play again," said Dot, leaning his chin +on his mites of hands and peering at us in his shrewd way. "Jack is a +girl, and she cannot understand; but when one is only a Dot, and has +an ugly crutch and a back that never leaves off aching, and a father +that has gone to heaven, one does not care to be left behind." + +"But you are not thinking of us, Dot, and how unhappy it would make +us to lose you too," I returned. And now the tears would come one by +one; Dot saw them, and wiped them off with his sleeve. + +"Don't be silly, Esther," he said, in a coaxing little voice. "I am +not going yet. Allan says I may live to be a man. He said so last +night; and then he told me he was afraid we should be very poor; and +that made me sorry, for I knew I should never be able to work, with +my poor back." + +"But Allan and I will work for you, my darling," I exclaimed, +throwing my arms round him; "only you must not leave us, Dot, even +for father;" and as I said this I began to sob bitterly. I was +terribly ashamed of myself when Allan came in and discovered me in +the act; and there was Jack keeping me company, and frowning away her +tears dreadfully. + +I thought Allan would have scolded us all round; but no, he did +nothing of the kind. He patted Jack's wet cheeks and laughed at the +hole in her handkerchief; and he then seated himself on the bed, and +asked me very gently what was the matter with us all. Dot was +spokesman: he stated the facts of the case rather lugubriously and in +a slightly injured voice. + +"Esther is crying because she is selfish, and I am afraid I am +selfish too." + +"Most likely," returned Allan, dryly; "it is a human failing. What +is the case in point, Frankie?" + +Allan was the only one of us who ever called Dot by his proper name. + +"I should not mind growing up to be a man," replied Dot, fencing a +little, "if I were big and strong like you," taking hold of the huge +sinewy hand. "I could work then for mother and the girls; but now you +will be always obliged to take care of me, and so--and so--" and here +Dot's lips quivered a little, "I would rather go with dear father, if +Esther would not cry about it so." + +"No, no, you must stay with us, Sonny," returned Allan, cheerily. +"Esther and I are not going to give you up so easily. Why, look here, +Frankie; I will tell you a secret. One of these days I mean to have a +nice little house of my own, and Esther and you shall come and live +with me, and I will go among my patients all the morning, and in the +evening I shall come home very lazy and tired, and Esther shall fetch +me my slippers and light the lamp, and I shall get my books, and you +will have your drawing, and Esther will mend our clothes, and we +shall be as cozy as possible." + +"Yes, yes," exclaimed Dot, clapping his hands. The snug picture had +fascinated his childish fancy; Allan's fireside had obscured the +lights of paradise. From this time this imaginary home of Allan's +became his favorite castle in the air. When we were together he would +often talk of it as though it were reality. We had planted the garden +and furnished the parlor a dozen times over before the year was out; +and so strong is a settled imagination that I am almost sure Dot +believed that somewhere there existed the little white cottage with +the porch covered with honeysuckle, and the low bay-window with the +great pots of flowering plants, beside which Dot's couch was to stand. + +I don't think Jack enjoyed these talks so much as Dot and I did, as +we made no room for her in our castle-building. + +"You must not live with us, Jack," Dot would say, very gravely; "you +are only a girl, and we don't want girls"--what was I, I wonder?-- +"but you shall come and see us once a week, and Esther will give you +brown bread and honey out of our beehives; for we had arranged there +must be a row of beehives under a southern wall where peaches were to +grow; and as for white lilies, we were to have dozens of them. Dear, +dear, how harmless all these fancies were, and yet they kept us +cheerful and warded off many an hour of depression from pain when +Dot's back was bad. I remember one more thing that Allan said that +night, when we were all better and more cheerful, for it was rather a +grave speech for a young man; but then Allan had these fits of +gravity. + +"Never mind thinking if you will grow up to be a man, Dot. Wishing +won't help us to die an hour sooner, and the longest life must have +an end some day. What we have to do is to take up our life, and do +the best we can with it while it lasts, and to be kind and patient, +and help one another. Most likely Esther and I will have to work hard +enough all our lives--we shall work, and you may have to suffer; but +we cannot do without you any more than you can do without us. There, +Frankie!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +UNCLE GEOFFREY. + + +The day after the funeral Uncle Geoffrey held a family council, at +which we were all present, except mother and Dot; he preferred +talking to her alone afterward. + +Oh, what changes! what incredible changes! We must leave Combe Manor +at once. With the exception of a few hundred pounds that had been +mother's portion, the only dowry that her good old father, a naval +captain, had been able to give her, we were literally penniless. The +boys were not able to help us much. Allan was only a house-surgeon in +one of the London hospitals; and Fred, who called himself an artist, +had never earned a penny. He was a fair copyist, and talked the +ordinary art jargon, and went about all day in his brown velveteen +coat, and wore his hair rather long; but we never saw much result +from his Roman studies; latterly he had somewhat neglected his +painting, and had taken to violin playing and musical composition. +Uncle Geoffrey used to shake his head and say he was "Jack of all +trades and master of none," which was not far from the mark. There +was a great deal of talk between the three, before anything was +settled. + +Fred was terribly aggravating to Uncle Geoffrey, I could see; but +then he was so miserable, poor fellow; he would not look at things in +their proper light, and he had a way with him as though he thought +Uncle Geoffrey was putting upon him. The discussion grew very warm at +last, for Allan sided with Uncle Geoffrey, and then Fred said every +one was against him. It struck me Uncle Geoffrey pooh-poohed Fred's +whim of being an artist; he wanted him to go into an office; there +was a vacant berth he could secure by speaking to an old friend of +his, who was in a China tea-house, a most respectable money-making +firm, and Fred would have a salary at once, with good prospects of +rising; but Fred passionately scouted the notion. He would rather +enlist; he would drown, or hang himself sooner. There were no end of +naughty things he said; only Carrie cried and begged him not to be so +wicked, and that checked him. + +Uncle Geoffrey lost his patience at last, and very nearly told him +he was an idiot, to his face; but Fred looked so handsome and +miserable, that he relented; and at last it was arranged that Fred +was to take a hundred pounds of mother's money--she would have given +him the whole if she could, poor dear--and take cheap rooms in +London, and try how he could get on by teaching drawing and taking +copying orders. + +"Remember, Fred," continued Uncle Geoffrey, rather sternly, "you are +taking a sixth part of your mother's entire income; all that she has +for herself and these girls; if you squander it rashly, you will be +robbing the widow and the fatherless. You have scouted my well-meant +advice, and Allan's"--he went on--"and are marking out your own path +in life very foolishly, as we think; remember, you have only yourself +to blame, if you make that life a failure. Artists are of the same +stuff as other men, and ought to be sober, steady, and persevering; +without patience and effort you cannot succeed." + +"When my picture is accepted by the hanging committee, you and Allan +will repent your sneers," answered Fred, bitterly. + +"We do not sneer, my boy," returned Uncle Geoffrey, more mildly--for +he remembered Fred's father had only been dead a week--"we are only +doubtful of the wisdom of your choice; but there, work hard at your +daubs, and keep out of debt and bad company, and you may yet triumph +over your cranky old uncle." And so the matter was amicably settled. + +Allan's arrangements were far more simple. He was to leave the +hospital in another year, and become Uncle Geoffrey's assistant, with +a view to partnership. It was not quite Allan's taste, a practice in +a sleepy country town; but, as he remarked rather curtly, "beggars +must not be choosers," and he would as soon work under Uncle Geoffrey +as any other man. I think Allan was rather ambitious in his secret +views. He wanted to remain longer at the hospital and get into a +London practice; he would have liked to have been higher up the tree +than Uncle Geoffrey, who was quite content with his quiet position at +Milnthorpe. But the most astonishing part of the domestic programme +was, that we were all going to live with Uncle Geoffrey. I could +scarcely believe my ears when I heard it, and Carrie was just as +surprised. Could any of us credit such unselfish generosity? He had +not prepared us for it in the least. + +"Now, girls, you must just pack up your things, you, and the mother, +and Dot; of course we must take Dot, and you must manage to shake +yourselves down in the old house at Milnthorpe"--that is how he put +it; "it is not so big as Combe Manor, and I daresay we shall be +rather a tight fit when Allan comes; but the more the merrier, eh, +Jack?" + +"Oh, Uncle Geoff, do you mean it?" gasped Jack, growing scarlet; but +Carrie and I could not speak for surprise. + +"Mean it! Of course. What is the good of being a bachelor uncle, if +one is not to be tyrannized over by an army of nephews and nieces? Do +you think the plan will answer, Esther?" he said, rather more +seriously. + +"If you and Deborah do not mind it, Uncle Geoffrey, I am sure it +ought to answer; but we shall crowd you, and put you and Deborah to +sad inconvenience, I am afraid;" for I was half afraid of Deborah, +who had lived with Uncle Geoffrey for five-and-twenty years, and was +used to her own ways, and not over fond of young people. + +"I shall not ask Deb's opinion," he answered, rather roguishly; "we +must smooth her down afterward, eh, girls? Seriously, Allan, I think +it is the best plan under the circumstances. I am not fond of being +alone," and here Uncle Geoffrey gave a quick sigh. Poor Uncle Geoff! +he had never meant to be an old bachelor, only She died while he was +furnishing the old house at Milnthorpe, and he never could fix his +mind on any one else. + +"I like young folks about me," he continued, cheerfully. "When I get +old and rheumatic, I can keep Dot company, and Jack can wait on us +both. Of course I am not a rich man, children, and we must all help +to keep the kettle boiling; but the house is my own, and you can all +shelter in it if you like; it will save house-rent and taxes, at any +rate for the present." + +"Carrie and I will work," I replied, eagerly; for, though Uncle +Geoffrey was not a poor man, he was very far from being rich, and he +could not possibly afford to keep us all. A third of his income went +to poor Aunt Prue, who had married foolishly, and was now a widow +with a large family. + +Aunt Prue would have been penniless, only father and Uncle Geoff +agreed to allow her a fixed maintenance. As Uncle Geoff explained to +us afterward, she would now lose half her income. + +"There are eight children, and two or three of them are very +delicate, and take after their father. I have been thinking about it +all, Esther," he said, when Allan and I were alone with him, "and I +have made up my mind that I must allow her another hundred a year. +Poor soul, she works hard at that school-keeping of hers, and none of +the children are old enough to help her except Lawrence, and he is +going into a decline, the doctors say. I am afraid we shall have to +pinch a bit, unless you and Carrie get some teaching." + +"Oh, Uncle Geoff, of course we shall work; and Jack, too, when she +is old enough." Could he think we should be a burden on him, when we +were all young and strong? + +I had forgotten poor Aunt Prue, who lived a long way off, and whom +we saw but seldom. She was a pretty, subdued little woman, who always +wore shabby black gowns; I never saw her in a good dress in my life. +Well, we were as poor as Aunt Prue now, and I wondered if we should +make such a gallant fight against misfortune as she did. + +We arranged matters after that--Allan and Uncle Geoff and I; for +Carrie had gone to sit with mother, and Fred had strolled off +somewhere. They wanted me to try my hand at housekeeping; at least, +until mother was stronger and more able to bear things. + +"Carrie hates it, and you have a good head for accounts," Allan +observed, quietly. It seemed rather strange that they should make me +take the head, when Carrie was two years older, and a week ago I was +only a schoolgirl; but I felt they were right, for I liked planning +and contriving, and Carrie detested anything she called domestic +drudgery. + +We considered ways and means after that. Uncle Geoffrey told us the +exact amount of his income, He had always lived very comfortably, but +when he had deducted the extra allowance for poor Aunt Prue, we saw +clearly that there was not enough for so large a party; but at the +first hint of this from Allan Uncle Geoffrey got quite warm and +eager. Dear, generous Uncle Geoff! he was determined to share his +last crust with his dead brother's widow and children. + +"Nonsense, fiddlesticks!" he kept on saying; "what do I want with +luxuries? Ask Deborah if I care what I eat and drink; we shall do +very well, if you and Esther are not so faint-hearted." And when we +found out how our protests seemed to hurt him, we let him have his +own way; only Allan and I exchanged looks, which said as plainly as +looks could, "Is he not the best uncle that ever lived, and will we +not work our hardest to help him?" + +I had a long talk with Carrie that night; she was very submissive +and very sad, and seemed rather downhearted over things. She was +quite as grateful for Uncle Geoff's generosity as we were, but I +could see the notion of being a governess distressed her greatly. "I +am very glad you will undertake the housekeeping, Esther," she said, +rather plaintively; "it will leave me free for other things," and +then she sighed very bitterly, and got up and left me. I was a little +sorry that she did not tell me all that was in her mind, for, if we +are "to bear each other's burdens," it is necessary to break down the +reserve that keeps us out of even a sister's heart sometimes. + +But though Carrie left me to my own thoughts, I was not able to +quiet myself for hours. If I had only Jessie to whom I could talk! +and then it seemed to me as though it were months since we sat +together in the garden of Redmayne House talking out our girlish +philosophy. + +Only a fortnight ago, and yet how much had happened since then! What +a revolution in our home-world! Dear father lying in his quiet grave; +ourselves penniless orphans, obliged to leave Combe Manor, and +indebted to our generous benefactor for the very roof that was to +cover us and the food that we were to eat. + +Ah, well! I was only a schoolgirl, barely seventeen. No wonder I +shrank back a little appalled from the responsibilities that awaited +me. I was to be Uncle Geoff's housekeeper, his trusted right-hand and +referee. I was to manage that formidable Deborah, and the stolid, +broad-faced Martha; and there was mother so broken in health and +spirits, and Dot, and Jack, with her hoidenish ways and torn frocks, +and Allan miles away from me, and Carrie--well, I felt half afraid of +Carrie to-night; she seemed meditating great things when I wanted her +to compass daily duties. I hoped she would volunteer to go on with +Jack's lessons and help with the mending, and I wondered with more +forebodings what things she was planning for which I was to leave her +free. + +All these things tired me, and I sat rather dismally in the +moonlight looking out at the closed white lilies and the swaying +branches of the limes, until a text suddenly flashed into my mind, +"As thy day, so shall thy strength be." I lit my candle and opened my +Bible, that I might read over the words for myself. Yes, there they +were shining before my eyes, like "apples of gold in pictures of +silver," refreshing and comforting my worn-out spirits. Strength +promised for the day, but not beforehand, supplies of heavenly manna, +not to be hoarded or put by; the daily measure, daily gathered. + +An old verse of Bishop Ken's came to my mind. Very quaint and rich +in wisdom it was: + + "Does each day upon its wing + Its appointed burden bring? + Load it not besides with sorrow + That belongeth to the morrow. + When by God the heart is riven, + Strength is promised, strength is given: + But fore-date the day of woe, + And alone thou bear'st the blow." + +When I had said this over to myself, I laid my head on the pillow +and slept soundly. + +Mother and I had a nice little talk the next day. It was arranged +that I was to go over to Milnthorpe with Uncle Geoffrey, who was +obliged to return home somewhat hastily, in order to talk to Deborah +and see what furniture would be required for the rooms that were +placed at our disposal. As I was somewhat aghast at the amount of +business entrusted to my inexperienced hands, Allan volunteered to +help me, as Carrie could not be spared. + +We were to stay two or three days, make all the arrangements that +were necessary, and then come back and prepare for the flitting. If +Allan were beside me, I felt that I could accomplish wonders; +nevertheless, I carried rather a harassed face into dear mother's +dressing-room that morning. + +"Oh, Esther, how pale and tired you look!" were her first words as I +came toward her couch. "Poor child, we are making you a woman before +your time!" and her eyes filled with tears. + +"I am seventeen," I returned, with an odd little choke in my voice, +for I could have cried with her readily at that moment. "That is +quite a great age, mother; I feel terribly old, I assure you." + +"You are our dear, unselfish Esther," she returned, lovingly. Dear +soul, she always thought the best of us all, and my heart swelled how +proudly, and oh! how gratefully, when she told me in her sweet gentle +way what a comfort I was to her. + +"You are so reliable, Esther," she went on, "that we all look to you +as though you were older. You must be Uncle Geoffrey's favorite, I +think, from the way he talks about you. Carrie is very sweet and good +too, but she is not so practical." + +"Oh, mother, she is ever so much better than I!" I cried, for I +could not bear the least disparagement of my darling Carrie. "Think +how pretty she is, and how little she cares for dress and admiration. +If I were like that," I added, flushing a little over my words, "I'm +afraid I should be terribly vain." + +Mother smiled a little at that. + +"Be thankful then that you are saved that temptation." And then she +stroked my hot cheek and went on softly: "Don't think so much about +your looks, child; plain women are just as vain as pretty ones. Not +that you are plain, Esther, in my eyes, or in the eyes of any one who +loves you." But even that did not quite comfort me, for in my secret +heart my want of beauty troubled me sadly. There, I have owned the +worst of myself--it is out now. + +We talked for a long time after that about the new life that lay +before us, and again I marveled at mother's patience and submission; +but when I told her so she only hid her face and wept. + +"What does it matter?" she said, at last, when she had recovered +herself a little. "No home can be quite a home to me now without him. +If I could live within sight of his grave, I should be thankful; but +Combe Manor and Milnthrope are the same to me now." And though these +words struck me as strange at first, I understood afterward; for in +the void and waste of her widowed life no outer change of +circumstances seemed to disturb her, except for our sakes and for us. + +She seemed to feel Uncle Geoffrey's kindness as a sort of stay and +source of endless comfort. "Such goodness--such unselfishness!" she +kept murmuring to herself; and then she wanted to hear all that Allan +and I proposed. + +"How I wish I could get strong and help you," she said, wistfully, +when I had finished. "With all that teaching and housekeeping, I am +afraid you will overtax your strength." + +"Oh, no, Carrie will help me," I returned, confidently. "Uncle +Geoffrey is going to speak to some of his patients about us. He +rather thinks those Thornes who live opposite to him want a +governess." + +"That will be nice and handy, and save you a walk," she returned, +brightening up at the notion that one of us would be so near her; but +though I would not have hinted at such a thing, I should rather have +enjoyed the daily walk. I was fond of fresh air, and exercise, and +rushing about, after the manner of girls, and it seemed rather tame +and monotonous just to cross the street to one's work; but I +remembered Allan's favorite speech, "Beggars must not be choosers," +and held my peace. + +On the whole, I felt somewhat comforted by my talk with mother. If +she and Uncle Geoffrey thought so well of me, I must try and live up +to their good opinion. There is nothing so good as to fix a high +standard for one's self. True, we may never reach it, never satisfy +ourselves, but the continued effort strengthens and elevates us. + +I went into Carrie's room to tell her about the Thornes, and lay our +plans together, but she was reading Thomas a Kempis, and did not seem +inclined to be disturbed, so I retreated somewhat discomforted. + +But I forgot my disappointment a moment afterward, when I went into +the schoolroom and found Dot fractious and weary, and Jack vainly +trying to amuse him. Allan was busy, and the two children had passed +a solitary morning. + +"Dot wanted Carrie to read to him, but she said she was too tired, +and I could do it," grumbled Jack, disconsolately. + +"I don't like Jack's reading; it is too jerky, and her voice is too +loud," returned Dot; but his countenance smoothed when I got the book +and read to him, and soon he fell into a sound sleep. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE OLD HOUSE AT MILNTHORPE. + + +The following afternoon Uncle Geoffrey, Allan, and I, started for +Milnthorpe. Youthful grief is addicted to restlessness--it is only +the old who can sit so silently and weep; it was perfectly natural, +then, that I should hail a few days' change with feelings of relief. + +It was rather late in the evening when we arrived. As we drove +through the market place there was the usual group of idlers +loitering on the steps of the Red Lion, who stared at us lazily as we +passed. Milnthorpe was an odd, primitive little place--the sunniest +and sleepiest of country towns. It had a steep, straggling +Highstreet, which ended in a wide, deserted-looking square, which +rather reminded one of the Place in some Continental town. The weekly +markets were held here, on which occasion the large white portico of +the Red Lion was never empty. Milnthorpe woke with brief spasms of +life on Monday morning; broad-shouldered men jostled each other on +the grass-grown pavements; large country wagons, sweet-smelling in +haymaking seasons, blocked up the central spaces; country women, with +gay-colored handkerchiefs, sold eggs, and butter, and poultry In the +square; and two or three farmers, with their dogs at their heels, +lingered under the windows of the Red Lion, fingering the samples in +their pockets, and exchanging dismal prognostications concerning the +crops and the weather. One side of the square was occupied by St. +Barnabas, with its pretty shaded churchyard and old gray vicarage. On +the opposite side was the handsome red brick house occupied by Mr. +Lucas, the banker, and two or three other houses, more or less +pretentious, inhabited by the gentry of Milnthorpe. + +Uncle Geoffrey lived at the lower end of the High street. It was a +tall, narrow house, with old-fashioned windows and wire blinds. These +blinds, which were my detestation, were absolutely necessary, as the +street door opened directly on the street. There was one smooth, long +step, and that was all. It had rather a dull outside look, but the +moment one entered the narrow wainscoted hall, there was a cheery +vista of green lawn and neatly graveled paths through the glass door. + +The garden was the delight of Uncle Geoffrey's heart. It was +somewhat narrow, to match the house; but in the center of the lawn, +there was a glorious mulberry tree, the joy of us children. Behind +was a wonderful intricacy of slim, oddly-shaped flower-beds, +intersected by miniature walks, where two people could with +difficulty walk abreast; and beyond this lay a tolerable kitchen +garden, where Deborah grew cabbages and all sorts of homely herbs, +and where tiny pink roses and sturdy sweet-williams blossomed among +the gooseberry bushes. + +On one side of the house were two roomy parlors, divided by folding +doors. We never called them anything but parlors, for the shabby +wainscoted walls and old-fashioned furniture forbade any similitude +to the modern drawing-room. + +On the other side of the hall was Uncle Geoffrey's study--a somewhat +grim, dingy apartment, with brown shelves full of ponderous tomes, a +pipe-rack filled with fantastic pipes, deep old cupboards full of +hetereogeneous rubbish, and wide easy-chairs that one could hardly +lift, one of which was always occupied by Jumbles, Uncle Geoffrey's +dog. + +Jumbles was a great favorite with us all. He was a solemn, wise +-looking dog of the terrier breed, indeed, I believe Uncle Geoff +called him a Dandy Dinmont--blue-gray in color, with a great head, +and deep-set intelligent eyes. It was Uncle Geoffrey's opinion that +Jumbles understood all one said to him. He would sit with his head +slightly on one side, thumping his tail against the floor, with a +sort of glimmer of fun in his eyes, as though he comprehended our +conversation, and interposed a "Hear, hear!" and when he had had +enough of it, and we were growing prosy, he would turn over on his +back with an expression of abject weariness, as though canine +reticence objected to human garrulity. + +Jumbles was a rare old philosopher--a sort of four-footed Diogenes. +He was discerning in his friendships, somewhat aggressive and +splenetic to his equals; intolerant of cats, whom he hunted like +vermin, and rather disdainfully condescending to the small dogs of +Milnthorpe. Jumbles always accompanied Uncle Geoffrey in his rounds. +He used to take his place in the gig with undeviating punctuality; +nothing induced him to desert his post when the night-bell rang. He +would rouse up from his sleep, and go out in the coldest weather. We +used to hear his deep bark under the window as they sallied out in +the midnight gloom. + +The morning after we arrived, Allan and I made a tour of inspection +through the house. There were only three rooms on the first floor-- +Uncle Geoffrey's, with its huge four-post bed; a large front room, +that we both decided would just do for mother; and a smaller one at +the back, that, after a few minutes' deliberation, I allotted to +Carrie. + +It caused me an envious pang or two before I yielded it, for I knew +I must share a large upper room with Jack; the little room behind it +must be for Dot, and the larger one would by-and-by be Allan's. I +confess my heart sank a little when I thought of Jack's noisiness and +thriftless ways; but when I remembered how fond she was of good +books, and the great red-leaved diary that lay on her little table, I +thought it better that Carrie should have a quiet corner to herself, +and then she would be near mother. + +If only Jack could be taught to hold her tongue sometimes, and keep +her drawers in order, instead of strewing her room with muddy boots +and odd items of attire! Well, perhaps it might be my mission to +train Jack to more orderly habits. I would set her a good example, +and coax her to follow it. She was good-tempered and affectionate, +and perhaps I should find her sufficiently pliable. I was so lost in +these anxious thoughts that Allan had left me unperceived. I found +him in the back parlor, seated on the table, and looking about him +rather gloomily. + +"I say, Esther!" he called out, as soon as he caught sight of me, "I +am afraid mother and Carrie will find this rather shabby after the +dear old rooms at Combe Manor. Could we not furbish it up a little?" +And Allan looked discontentedly at the ugly curtains and little, +straight horse-hair sofa. Everything had grown rather shabby, only +Uncle Geoffrey had not found it out. + +"Oh, of course!" I exclaimed, joyfully, for all sorts of brilliant +thoughts had come to me while I tossed rather wakefully in the early +morning hours. "Don't you know, Allan, that Uncle Geoffrey has +decided to send mother and Carrie and Dot down to the sea for a week, +while you and I and Jack make things comfortable for them? Now, why +should we not help ourselves to the best of the furniture at Combe +Manor, and make Uncle Geoff turn out all these ugly things? We might +have our pretty carpet from the drawing-room, and the curtains, and +mother's couch, and some of the easy-chairs, and the dear little +carved cabinet with our purple china; it need not all be sold when we +want it so badly for mother." + +Allan was so delighted at the idea that we propounded our views to +Uncle Geoffrey at dinner-time; but he did not see the thing quite in +our light. + +"Of course you will need furniture for the bedrooms," he returned, +rather dubiously; "but I wanted to sell the rest of the things that +were not absolutely needed, and invest the money." + +But this sensible view of the matter did not please me or Allan. We +had a long argument, which ended in a compromise--the question of +carpets might rest. Uncle Geoffrey's was a good Brussels, although it +was dingy; but I might retain, if I liked, the pretty striped +curtains from our drawing-room at Combe Manor, and mother's couch, +and a few of the easy-chairs, and the little cabinet with the purple +china; and then there was mother's inlaid work-table, and Carrie's +davenport, and books belonging to both of us, and a little gilt clock +that father had given mother on her last wedding-day--all these +things would make an entire renovation in the shabby parlors. + +I was quite excited by all these arrangements; but an interview with +Deborah soon cooled my ardor. + +Allan and Jumbles had gone out with Uncle Geoffrey, and I was +sitting at the window looking over the lawn and the mulberry tree, +when a sudden tap at the door startled me from my reverie. Of course +it was Deborah; no one else's knuckles sounded as though they were +iron. Deborah was a tall, angular woman, very spare and erect of +figure, with a severe cast of countenance, and heavy black curls +pinned up under her net cap; her print dresses were always starched +until they crackled, and on Sunday her black silk dress rustled as I +never heard any silk dress rustle before. + +"Yes, Deborah, what is it?" I asked, half-frightened; for surely my +hour had come. Deborah was standing so very erect, with the basket of +keys in her hands, and her mouth drawn down at the corners. + +"Master said this morning," began Deborah, grimly, "as how there was +a new family coming to live here, and that I was to go to Miss Esther +for orders. Five-and-twenty years have I cooked master's dinners for +him, and received his orders, and never had a word of complaint from +his lips, and now he is putting a mistress over me and Martha." + +"Oh, Deborah," I faltered, and then I came to a full stop; for was +it not trying to a woman of her age and disposition, used to Uncle +Geoffrey's bachelor ways, to have a houseful of young people turned +on her hands? She and Martha would have to work harder, and they were +both getting old. I felt so much for her that the tears came into my +eyes, and my voice trembled. + +"It is hard!" I burst out; "it is very hard for you and Martha to +have your quiet life disturbed. But how could we help coming here, +when we had no home and no money, and Uncle Geoffrey was so generous? +And then there was Dot and mother so ailing." And at the thought of +all our helplessness, and Uncle Geoffrey's goodness a great tear +rolled down my cheek. It was very babyish and undignified; but, after +all, no assumption of womanliness would have helped me so much. +Deborah's grim mouth relaxed; under her severe exterior, and with her +sharp tongue, there beat a very kind heart, and Dot was her weak +point. + +"Well, well, crying won't help the pot to boil, Miss Esther!" she +said, brusquely enough; but I could see she was coming round. "Master +was always that kind-hearted that he would have sheltered the whole +parish if he could. I am not blaming him, though it goes hard with +Martha and me, who have led peaceable, orderly lives, and never had a +mistress or thought of one since Miss Blake died, and the master took +up thoughts of single blessedness in earnest." + +"What sort of woman was Miss Blake?" I asked, eagerly, forgetting my +few troubled tears at the thought of Uncle Geoffrey's one romance. +The romance of middle-aged people always came with a faint, far-away +odor to us young ones, like some old garment laid up in rose-leaves +or lavender, which must needs be of quaint fashion and material, but +doubtless precious in the eyes of the wearer. + +"Woman!" returned Deborah, with an angry snort; "she was a lady, if +there ever was one. We don't see her sort every day, I can tell you +that, Miss Esther; a pretty-spoken, dainty creature, with long fair +curls, that one longed to twine round one's fingers." + +"She was pretty, then?" I hazarded more timidly. + +"Pretty! she was downright beautiful. Miss Carrie reminds me of her +sometimes, but she is not near so handsome as poor Miss Rose. She +used to come here sometimes with her mother, and she and master would +sit under that mulberry tree. I can see her now walking over the +grass in her white gown, with some apple blossoms in her hand, +talking and laughing with him. It was a sad day when she lay in the +fever, and did not know him, for all his calling to her 'Rose! Rose!' +I was with her when she died, and I thought he would never hold up +his head again." + +"Poor Uncle Geoffrey! But he is cheerful and contented now." + +"But there, I must not stand gossiping," continued Deborah, +interrupting herself. "I have only brought you the keys, and wish to +know what preserve you and Mr. Allan might favor for tea." + +But here I caught hold, not of the key-basket, but of the hard, work-worn +hand that held it. + +"Oh, Deborah! do be good to us!" I broke out: "we will trouble you +and Martha as little as possible, and we are all going to put our +shoulders to the wheel and help ourselves; and we have no home but +this, and no one to take care of us but Uncle Geoffrey." + +"I don't know but I will make some girdle cakes for tea," returned +Deborah, in the most imperturbable voice; and she turned herself +round abruptly, and walked out of the room without another word. But +I was quite well satisfied and triumphant. When Deborah baked girdle +cakes, she meant the warmest of welcomes, and no end of honor to +Uncle Geoffrey's guests. + +"Humph! girdle cakes!" observed Uncle Geoffrey, with a smile, as he +regarded them. "Deb is in a first-rate humor, then. You have played +your cards well, old lady," and his eyes twinkled merrily. + +I went into the kitchen after tea, and had another long talk with +Deborah. Dear old kitchen! How many happy hours we children had spent +in it! It was very low and dark, and its two windows looked out on +the stable-yard; but in the evening, when the fire burned clear and +the blinds were drawn, it was a pleasant place. Deborah and Martha +used to sit in the brown Windsor chairs knitting, with Puff, the +great tabby cat, beside them, and the firelight would play on the red +brick floor and snug crimson curtains. + +Deborah and I had a grand talk that night. She was a trifle +obstinate and dogmatical, but we got on fairly well. To do her +justice, her chief care seemed to be that her master should not be +interfered with in any of his ways. "He will work harder than ever," +she groaned, "now there are all these mouths to feed. He and Jumbles +will be fairly worn out." + +But our talk contented me. I had enlisted Deborah's sympathies on +our side. I felt the battle was over. I was only a "bit thing" as +Deborah herself called me, and I was tolerably tired when I went up +to my room that night. + +Not that I felt inclined for sleep. Oh dear no! I just dragged the +big easy-chair to the window, and sat there listening to the patter +of summer rain on the leaves. + +It was very dark, for the moon had hidden her face; but through the +cool dampness there crept a delicious fragrance of wet jasmine and +lilies. I wanted to have a good "think;" not to sit down and take +myself to pieces. Oh no, that was Carrie's way. Such introspection +bored me and did me little good, for it only made me think more of +myself and less of the Master; but I wanted to review the past +fortnight, and look the future in the face. Foolish Esther! As though +we can look at a veiled face. Only the past and the present is ours; +the future is hidden with God. + +Yes, a fortnight ago I was a merry, heedless schoolgirl, with no +responsibilities and few duties, except that laborious one of +self-improvement, which must go on, under some form or other, until +we die. And now, on my shrinking shoulders lay the weight of a woman's +work. I was to teach others, when I knew so little myself; it was I +who was to have the largest share of home administration--I, who was +so faulty, so imperfect. + +Then I remembered a sentence Carrie had once read to me out of one +of her innumerable books, and which had struck me very greatly at the +time. + +"Happy should I think myself," said St. Francis de Sales, "if I +could rid myself of my imperfections but one quarter of an hour +previous to my death." + +Well, if a saint could say that, why should I lose heart thinking +about my faults? What was the good of stirring up muddy water to try +and see one's own miserable reflection, when one could look up into +the serene blue of Divine Providence? If I had faults--and, alas! how +many they were--I must try to remedy them; if I slipped, I must pray +for strength to rise again. + +Courage, Esther! "Little by little," as Uncle Geoffrey says; "small +beginnings make great endings." And when I had cheered myself with +these words I went tranquilly to bed. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +THE FLITTING. + + +So the old Combe Manor days were over, and with them the girlhood of +Esther Cameron. + +Ah me! it was sad to say good-by to the dear old home of our +childhood; to go round to our haunts, one by one, and look our +last at every cherished nook and corner; to bid farewell to our +four-footed pets, Dapple and Cherry and Brindle, and the dear little +spotted calves; to caress our favorite pigeons for the last time, and +to feed the greedy old turkey-cock, who had been the terror of our +younger days. It was well, perhaps, that we were too busy for a +prolonged leave-taking. Fred had gone to London, and his handsome +lugubrious face no longer overlooked us as we packed books and china. +Carrie and mother and Dot were cozily established in the little +sea-side lodging, and only Allan, Jack, and I sat down to our meals +in the dismantled rooms. + +It was hard work trying to keep cheerful, when Allan left off +whistling, as he hammered at the heavy cases, and when Jack was +discovered sobbing in odd corners, with Smudge in her arms--of course +Smudge would accompany us to Milnthorpe; no one could imagine Jack +without her favorite sable attendant, and then Dot was devoted to +him. Jack used to come to us with piteous pleadings to take first one +and then another of her pets; now it was the lame chicken she had +nursed in a little basket by the kitchen fire, then a pair of guinea +pigs that belonged to Dot, and some carrier pigeons that they +specially fancied; after that, she was bent on the removal of a young +family of hedgehogs, and some kittens that had been discovered in the +hay-loft, belonging to the stable cat. + +We made a compromise at last, and entrusted to her care Carrie's +tame canaries, and a cage of dormice that belonged to Dot, in whose +fate Smudge look a vast amount of interest, though he never ventured +to look at the canaries. The care of these interesting captives was +consolatory to Jack, though she rained tears over them in secret, and +was overheard by Allan telling them between her sobs that "they were +all going to live in a little pokey house, without chickens or cows, +or anything that would make life pleasant, and that she and they must +never expect to be happy again." Ah, well! the longest day must have +an end, and by-and-by the evening came when we turned away from dear +old Combe Manor forever. + +It was far more cheerful work fitting up the new rooms at +Milnthorpe, with Deborah's strong arms to help, and Uncle Geoffrey +standing by to encourage our efforts; even Jack plucked up heart +then, and hung up the canaries, and hid away the dormice out of +Smudge's and Jumbles' reach, and consented to stretch her long legs +in our behalf. Allan and I thought we had done wonders when all was +finished, and even Deborah gave an approving word. + +"I think mother and Carrie will be pleased," I said, as I put some +finishing touches to the tea-table on the evening we expected them. +Allan had gone to the station to meet them, and only Uncle Geoffrey +was my auditor. There was a great bowl of roses on the table, great +crimson-hearted, delicious roses, and a basket of nectarines, that +some patient had sent to Uncle Geoffrey. The parlors looked very +pretty and snug; we had arranged our books on the shelves, and had +hung up two or three choice engravings, and there was the gleam of +purple and gold china from the dark oak cabinet, and by the garden +window there were mother's little blue couch and her table and +workbox, and Carrie's davenport, and an inviting easy-chair. The new +curtains looked so well, too. No wonder Uncle Geoffrey declared that +he did not recognize his old room. + +"I am sure they will be pleased," I repeated, as I moved the +old-fashioned glass dish full of our delicious Combe Manor honey; +but Uncle Geoffrey did not answer; he was listening to some wheels +in the distance. + +"There they are," he said, snatching up his felt wide-awake. "Don't +expect your mother to notice much to-night, Esther; poor thing, this +is a sad coming home to her." + +I need not have worked so hard; that was my first thought when I saw +mother's face as she entered the room. She was trembling like a leaf, +and her face was all puckered and drawn, as I kissed her; but Uncle +Geoffrey would not let her sit down or look at anything. + +"No, no, you shall not make efforts for us to-night," he said, +patting her as though she were a child. "Take your mother upstairs, +children, and let her have quiet! do you hear, nothing but quiet +to-night." And then Allan drew her arm through his. + +I cried shame on myself for a selfish, disappointed pang, as I +followed them. Of course Uncle Geoffrey was right and wise, as he +always was, and I was still more ashamed of myself when I entered the +room and found mother crying as though her heart would break, and +clinging to Allan. + +"Oh, children, children! how can I live without your father?" she +exclaimed, hysterically. Well, it was wise of Allan, for he let that +pass and never said a word; he only helped me remove the heavy +widow's bonnet and cloak, and moved the big chintz couch nearer to +the window, and then he told me to be quick and bring her some tea; +and when I returned he was sitting by her, fanning and talking to her +in his pleasant boyish way; and though the tears were still flowing +down her pale cheeks she sobbed less convulsively. + +"You have both been so good, and worked so hard, and I cannot thank +you," she whispered, taking my hand, as I stood near her. + +"Esther does not want to be thanked," returned Allan, sturdily. "Now +you will take your tea, won't you, mother? and by-and-by one of the +girls shall come and sit with you." + +"Are we to go down and leave her?" I observed, dubiously, as Allan +rose from his seat. + +"Yes, go, both of you, I shall be better alone; Allan knows that," +with a grateful glance as I reluctantly obeyed her. I was too young +to understand the healing effects of quiet and silence in a great +grief; to me the thought of such loneliness was dreadful, until, +later on, she explained the whole matter. + +"I am never less alone than when I am alone," she said once, very +simply to me. "I have the remembrance of your dear father and his +words and looks ever before me, and God is so near--one feels that +most when one is solitary." And her words remained with me long +afterward. + +It was not such a very sad evening, after all. The sea air had done +Dot good, and he was in better spirits; and then Carrie was so good +and sweet, and so pleased with everything. + +"How kind of you, Esther," she said, with tears in her eyes, as I +led her into her little bedroom. "I hardly dared hope for this, and +so near dear mother." Well, it was very tiny, but very pretty, too. +Carrie had her own little bed, in which she had slept from a child, +and the evening sun streamed full on it, and a pleasant smell of +white jasmine pervaded it; part of the window was framed with the +delicate tendrils and tiny buds; and there was her little prayer-desk, +with its shelf of devotional books, and her little round table +and easy-chair standing just as it used; only, if one looked out of +the window, instead of the belt of green circling meadows, dotted +over by grazing cattle there was the lawn and the mulberry tree--a +little narrow and homely, but still pleasant. + +Carrie's eyes looked very vague and misty when I left her and went +down to Dot. Allan had put him to bed, but he would not hear of going +to sleep; he had his dormice beside him, and Jumbles was curled up at +the foot of the bed; he wanted to show me his seaweed and shells, and +tell me about the sea. + +"I can't get it out of my head, Essie," he said, sitting up among +his pillows and looking very wide-awake and excited. "I used to fall +asleep listening to the long wash and roll of the waves, and in the +morning there it was again. Don't you love the sea?" + +"Yes, dearly, Dot; and so does Allan." + +"It reminded me of the "Pilgrim's Progress"--just the last part. +Don't you remember the river that every one was obliged to cross? +Carrie told me it meant death." I nodded; Dot did not always need an +answer to his childish fancies, he used to like to tell them all out +to Allan and me. "One night," he went on, "my back was bad, and I +could not sleep, and Carrie made me up a nest of pillows in a big +chair by the window, and we sat there ever so long after mother was +fast asleep. + +"It was so light--almost as light as day--and there were all sorts +of sparkles over the water, as though it were shaking out tiny stars +in play; and there was one broad golden path--oh! it was so beautiful +--and then I thought of Christian and Christiana, and Mr. Ready-to-halt, +and father, and they all crossed the river, you know." + +"Yes, Dot," I whispered. And then I repeated softly the well-known +verse we had so often sung: + + "One army of the living God, + To His command we bow; + Part of the host have crossed the flood, + And part are crossing now." + +"Yes, yes," he repeated, eagerly; "it seemed as though I could see +father walking down the long golden path; it shone so, he could not +have missed his way or fallen into the dark waters. Carrie told me +that by-and-by there would be "no more sea," somehow; I was sorry for +that--aren't you, Essie?" + +"Oh, no, don't be sorry," I burst out, for I had often talked about +this with Carrie. "It is beautiful, but it is too shifting, too +treacherous, too changeable, to belong to the higher life. Think of +all the cruel wrecks, of all the drowned people it has swallowed up +in its rage; it devours men and women, and little children, Dot, and +hides its mischief with a smile. Oh, no, it is false in its beauty, +and there shall be an end of it, with all that is not true and +perfect." + +And when Dot had fallen asleep, I went down to Uncle Geoffrey and +repeated our conversation, to which he listened with a great deal of +interest. + +"You are perfectly right, Esther," he said, thoughtfully; "but I +think there is another meaning involved in the words 'There shall be +no more sea.'" + +"The sea divides us often from those we love," he went on musingly; +"it is our great earthly barrier. In that perfected life that lies +before us there can be no barrier, no division, no separating +boundaries. In the new earth there will be no fierce torrents or +engulfing ocean, no restless moaning of waves. Do you not see this?" + +"Yes, indeed, Uncle Geoffrey;" but all the same I thought in my own +mind that it was a pretty fancy of the child's, thinking that he saw +father walking across the moonlight sea. No, he could not have fallen +in the dark water, no fear of that, Dot, when the angel of His mercy +would hold him by the hand; and then I remembered a certain lake and +a solemn figure walking quietly on its watery floor, and the words, +"It is I, be not afraid," that have comforted many a dying heart! + +Allan had to leave us the next day, and go back to his work; it was +a pity, as his mere presence, the very sound of his bright, young +voice, seemed to rouse mother and do her good. As for me, I knew when +Allan went some of the sunshine would go with him, and the world +would have a dull, work-a-day look. I tried to tell him so as we took +our last walk together. There was a little lane just by Uncle +Geoffrey's house; you turned right into it from the High street, and +it led into the country, within half a mile of the house. There were +some haystacks and a farmyard, a place that went by the name of +Grubbings' Farm; the soft litter of straw tempted us to sit down for +a little, and listen to the quiet lowing of the cattle as they came +up from their pasture to be milked. + +"It reminds me of Combe Manor," I said, and there was something wet +on my cheek as I spoke; "and oh, Allan! how I shall miss you to-morrow," +and I touched his coat sleeve furtively, for Allan was not +one to love demonstration. But, to my surprise, he gave me a kind +little pat. + +"Not more than I shall miss you," he returned, cheerily. "We always +get along well, you and I, don't we, little woman?" And as I nodded +my head, for something seemed to impede my utterance at that moment, +he went on more seriously, "You have a tough piece of work before +you, Esther, you and Carrie; you will have to put your Combe Manor +pride in your pockets, and summon up all your Cameron strength of +mind before you learn to submit to the will of strangers. + +"Our poor, pretty Carrie," he continued, regretfully; "the little +saint, as Uncle Geoffrey used to call her. I am afraid her work will +not be quite to her mind, but you must smoothe her way as much as +possible; but there, I won't preach on my last evening; let me have +your plans instead, my dear." + +But I had no plans to tell him, and so we drifted by degrees into +Allan's own work; and as he told me about the hospital and his +student friends, and the great bustling world in which we lived, I +forgot my own cares. If I had not much of a life of my own to lead, I +could still live in his. + +The pleasure of this talk lingered long in my memory; it was so nice +to feel that Allan and I understood each other so well and had no +divided interests; it always seems to me that a sister ought to dwell +in the heart of a brother and keep it warm for that other and sacred +love that must come by-and-by; not that the wife need drive the +sister into outer darkness, but that there must be a humbler abiding +in the outer court, perchance a little guest-chamber on the wall; the +nearer and more royal abode must be for the elected woman among women. + +There is too little giving up and coming down in this world, too +much jealous assertion of right, too little yielding of the scepter +in love. It may be hard--God knows it is hard, to our poor human +nature, for some cherished sister to stand a little aside while +another takes possession of the goodly mansion, yet if she be wise +and bend gently to the new influence, there will be a "come up +higher," long before the dregs of the feast are reached. Old bonds +are not easily broken, early days have a sweetness of their own; +by-and-by the sister will find her place ready for her, and welcoming +hands stretched out without grudging. + +The next morning I rose early to see Allan off Just at the last +moment Carrie came down in her pretty white wrapper to bid him +good-by. Allan was strapping up his portmanteau in the hall, and +shook his head at her in comic disapproval. "Fie, what pale cheeks, +Miss Carrie! One would think you had been burning the midnight oil." +I wonder if Allan's jesting words approached the truth, for Carrie's +face flushed suddenly, and she did not answer. + +Allan did not seem to notice her confusion. He bade us both good-by +very affectionately, and told us to be good girls and take care of +ourselves, and then in a moment he was gone. + +Breakfast was rather a miserable business after that; I was glad +Uncle Geoffrey read his paper so industriously and did not peep +behind the urn. Dot did, and slipped a hot little hand in mine, in an +old-fashioned sympathizing way. Carrie, who was sitting in her usual +dreamy, abstracted way, suddenly startled us all by addressing Uncle +Geoffrey rather abruptly. + +"Uncle Geoffrey, don't you think either Esther or I ought to go over +to the Thornes? They want a governess, you know." + +"Eh, what?" returned Uncle Geoffrey, a little disturbed at the +interruption in the middle of the leading article. "The Thornes? Oh, +yes, somebody was saying something to me the other day about them; +what was it?" And he rubbed his hair a little irritably. + +"We need not trouble Uncle Geoffrey," I put in, softly; "you and I +can go across before mother comes down. I must speak to Deborah, and +then I meant to hear Jack's lessons, but they can wait." + +"Very well," returned Carrie, nonchalantly; and then she added, in +her composed, elder sisterly way, "I may as well tell you, Esther, +that I mean to apply for the place myself; it will be so handy, the +house being just opposite; far more convenient than if I had a longer +walk." + +"Very well," was my response, but I could not help feeling a little +relief at her decision; the absence of any walk was an evil in my +eyes. The Thornes' windows looked into ours; already I had had a +sufficient glimpse of three rather untidy little heads over the wire +blind, and the spectacle had not attracted me. I ventured to hint my +fears to Carrie that they were not very interesting children; but, to +my dismay, she answered that few children are interesting, and that +one was as good as another. + +"But I mean to be fond of my pupils," I hazarded, rather timidly, as +I took my basket of keys. I thought Uncle Geoffrey was deep in his +paper again. "I think a governess ought to have a good moral +influence over them. Mother always said so." + +"We can have a good moral influence without any personal fondness," +returned Carrie, rather dryly. Poor girl! her work outside was +distasteful to her, and she could not help showing it sometimes. + +"One cannot take interest in a child without loving it in time," I +returned, with a little heat, for I did not enjoy this slavish notion +of duty--pure labor, and nothing else. Carrie did not answer, she +leaned rather wearily against the window, and looked absently out. +Uncle Geoffrey gave her a shrewd glance as he folded up the newspaper +and whistled to Jumbles. + +"Settle it between yourselves girls," he observed, suddenly, as he +opened the door; "but if I were little Annie Thorne, I know I should +choose Esther;" and with this parting thrust he left the room, making +us feel terribly abashed. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +OVER THE WAY. + + +I cannot say that I was prepossessed with the Thorne family, neither +was Carrie. + +Mrs. Thorne was what I call a loud woman; her voice was loud, and +she was full of words, and rather inquisitive on the subject of her +neighbors. + +She was somewhat good-looking, but decidedly over-dressed. Early as +it was, she was in a heavily-flounced silk dress, a little the worse +for wear. I guessed that first day, with a sort of feminine +intuition, that Mrs. Thorne wore out all her second-best clothes in +the morning. Perhaps it was my country bringing up, but I thought how +pure and fresh Carrie's modest dress looked beside it; and as for the +quiet face under the neatly-trimmed bonnet, I could see Mrs. Thorne +fell in love with it at once. She scarcely looked at or spoke to me, +except when civility demanded it; and perhaps she was right, for who +would care to look at me when Carrie was by? Then Carrie played, and +I knew her exquisite touch would demand instant admiration. I was a +mere bungler, a beginner beside her; she even sang a charming little +_chanson_. No wonder Mrs. Thorne was delighted to secure such an +accomplished person for her children's governess. The three little +girls came in by-and-by--shy, awkward children, with their mother's +black eyes, but without her fine complexion; plain, uninteresting +little girls, with a sort of solemn non-intelligence in their blank +countenances, and a perceptible shrinking from their mother's sharp +voice. + +"Shake hands with Miss Cameron, Lucy; she is going to teach you all +manner of nice things. Hold yourself straight, Annie. What will these +young ladies think of you, Belle, if they look at your dirty +pinafore? Mine are such troublesome children," she continued, in a +complaining voice; "they are never nice and tidy and obedient, like +other children. Mr. Thorne spoils them, and then finds fault with me." + +"What is your name, dear?" I whispered to the youngest, when Mrs. +Thorne had withdrawn with Carrie for a few minutes. They were +certainly very unattractive children; nevertheless, my heart warmed +to them, as it did to all children. I was child-lover all my life. + +"Annie," returned the little one, shyly rolling her fat arms in her +pinafore. She was less plain than the others, and had not outgrown +her plumpness. + +"Do you know I have a little brother at home, who is a sad invalid;" +and then I told them about Dot, about his patience and his sweet +ways, and how he amused himself when he could not get off his couch +for weeks; and as I warmed and grew eloquent with my subject, their +eyes became round and fixed, and a sort of dawning interest woke up +on their solemn faces; they forgot I was a stranger, and came closer, +and Belle laid a podgy and a very dirty hand on my lap. + +"How old is your little boy?" asked Lucy, in a shrill whisper. And +as I answered her Mrs. Thorne and Carrie re-entered the room. They +both looked surprised when they saw the children grouped round me; +Carrie's eyebrows elevated themselves a little quizzically, and Mrs. +Thorne called them away rather sharply. + +"Don't take liberties with strangers, children. What will Miss +Cameron think of such manners?" And then she dismissed them rather +summarily. I saw Annie steal a little wistful look at me as she +followed her sisters. + +We took our leave after that. Mrs. Thorne shook hands with us very +graciously, but her parting words were addressed to Carrie. "On +Monday, then. Please give my kind regards to Dr. Cameron, and tell +him how thoroughly satisfied I am with the proposed arrangement." And +Carrie answered very prettily, but as the door closed she sighed +heavily. + +"Oh, what children! and what a mother!" she gasped, as she took my +arm, and turned my foot-steps away from the house. "Never mind Jack, +I am going to the service at St. Barnabas; I want some refreshment +after what I have been through." And she sighed again. + +"But, Carrie," I remonstrated, "I have no time to spare. You know +how Jack has been neglected, and how I have promised Allan to do my +best for her until we can afford to send her to school." + +"You can walk with me to the church door," she returned, decidedly. +I was beginning to find out that Carrie could be self-willed +sometimes. "I must talk to you, Esther; I must tell you how I hate +it. Fancy trying to hammer French and music into those children's +heads, when I might--I might--" But here she stopped, actually on the +verge of crying. + +"Oh, my darling, Carrie!" I burst out, for I never could bear to see +her sweet face clouded for a moment, and she so seldom cried or gave +way to any emotion. "Why would you not let me speak? I might have +saved you this. I might have offered myself in your stead, and set +you free for pleasanter work." But she shook her head, and struggled +for composure. + +"You would not have done for Mrs. Thorne, Esther. Don't think me +vain if I say that I play and sing far better than you." + +"A thousand times better," I interposed. "And then you can draw." + +"Well, Mrs. Thorne is a woman who values accomplishments. You are +clever at some things; you speak French fairly, and then you are a +good Latin scholar" (for Allan and I studied that together); "you can +lay a solid foundation, as Uncle Geoffrey says; but Mrs. Thorne does +not care about that," continued Carrie a little bitterly; "she wants +a flimsy superstructure of accomplishments--music, and French, and +drawing, as much as I can teach a useful life-work, Esther." + +"Well, why not?" I returned, with a little spirit, for here was one +of Carrie's old arguments. "If it be the work given us to do, it must +be a useful life-work. It might be our duty to make artificial +flowers for our livelihood--hundreds of poor creatures do that--and +you would not scold them for waste of time, I suppose?" + +"Anyhow, it is not work enough for me," replied Carrie firmly, and +passing over my clever argument with a dignified silence; "it is the +drudgery of mere ornamentation that I hate. I will do my best for +those dreadful children, Esther. Are they not pitiful little +overdressed creatures? And I will try and please their mother though +I have not a thought in common with her. And when I have finished my +ornamental brick-making--told my tales of the bricks----" here she +paused, and looked at me with a heightened color. + +"And what then?" I asked, rather crossly, for there was a flaw in +her speech somewhere, and I could not find it out. + +"We shall see, my wise little sister," she said, letting go my arm +with a kind pressure. "See, here is St. Barnabas; is it not a dear +old building? Must you go back to Jack?" + +"Yes, I must," I answered, shortly. "_Laborare est orare_--to +labor is to pray, in my case, Carrie;" and with that I left her. + +But Carrie's arguments had seriously discomposed me. I longed to +talk it all out with Allan, and I do not think I ever missed him so +much as I did that day. I am afraid I was rather impatient with Jack +that morning; to be sure she was terribly awkward and inattentive; +she would put her elbows on the table, and ink her fingers, and then +she had a way of jerking her hair out of her eyes, which drove me +nearly frantic. I began to think we really must send her to school. +We had done away with the folding doors, they always creaked so, and +had hung up some curtains in their stead; through the folds I could +catch glimpses of dear mother leaning back in her chair, with Dot +beside her. He was spelling over his lesson to her, in a queer, +little sing-song voice, and they looked so cool and quiet that the +contrast was quite provoking; and there was Carrie kneeling in some +dim corner, and soothing her perturbed spirits with softly-uttered +psalms and prayers. + +"Jack," I returned, for the sixth time, "I cannot have you kick the +table in that schoolboy fashion." + +Jack looked at me with roguish malice in her eyes. "You are not +quite well, Esther; you have got a pain in your temper, haven't you, +now?" + +I don't know what I might have answered, for Jack was right, and I +was as cross as possible, only just at that moment Uncle Geoffrey put +his head in at the door, and stood beaming on us like an angel of +deliverance. + +"Fee-fo-fum," for he sometimes called Jack by that charming _sobriquet_, +indeed, he was always inventing names for her, "it is too hot for +work, isn't it? I think I must give you a holiday, for I want Esther +to go out with me." Uncle Geoffrey's wishes were law, and I rose at +once; but not all my secret feelings of relief could prevent me from +indulging in a parting thrust. + +"I don't think Jack deserves the holiday," I remarked, with a severe +look at the culprit; and Jack jerked her hair over her eyes this time +in some confusion. + +"Hullo, Fee-fo-fum, what have you been up to? Giving Esther trouble? +Oh, fie! fie!" + +"I only kicked the table," returned Jack, sullenly, "because I hate +lessons--that I do, Uncle Geoffrey--and I inked my fingers because I +liked it; and I put my elbows on the copy-book because Esther said I +wasn't to do it; and my hair got in my eyes; and William the +Conqueror had six wives, I know he had; and I told Esther she had a +pain in her temper, because she was as cross as two sticks; and I +don't remember any more, and I don't care," finished Jack, who could +be like a mule on occasions. + +Uncle Geoffrey laughed--he could not help it--and then he patted +Jack kindly on her rough locks. "Clever little Fee-fo-fum; so William +the Conqueror had six wives, had he? Come, this is capital; we must +send you to school, Jack, that is what we must do. Esther cannot be +in two places at once." What did he mean by that, I wonder! And then +he bid me run off and put on my hat, and not keep him waiting. + +Jack's brief sullenness soon vanished, and she followed me out of +the room to give me a penitent hug--that was so like Jack; the inky +caress was a doubtful consolation, but I liked it, somehow. + +"Where are you going, Uncle Geoff?" I asked, as we walked up the +High street, followed by Jumbles, while Jack and Smudge watched us +from the door. + +"Miss Lucas wants to see you," he returned, briefly. "Bless me, +there is Carrie, deep in conversation with Mr. Smedley. Where on +earth has the girl picked him up?" And there, true enough, was +Carrie, standing in the porch, talking eagerly to a fresh-colored, +benevolent-looking man, whom I knew by sight as the vicar of St. +Barnabas. + +She must have waylaid him after service, for the other worshipers +had dropped off; we had met two or three of them in the High street. +I do not know why the sight displeased me, for of course she had a +right to speak to her clergyman. Uncle Geoffrey whistled under his +breath, and then laughed and wondered "what the little saint had to +say to her pastor;" but I did not let him go on, for I was too +excited with our errand. + +"Why does Miss Lucas want to see me?" I asked, with a little beating +of the heart. The Lucas family were the richest people in Milnthorpe. + +Mr. Lucas was the banker, and kept his carriage, and had a pretty +cottage somewhere by the seaside; they were Uncle Geoffrey's +patients, I knew, but what had that to do with poor little me? + +"Miss Lucas wants to find some one to teach her little niece," +returned Uncle Geoffrey; and then I remembered all at once that +Mr. Lucas was a widower with one little girl. He had lost his wife +about a year ago, and his sister had come to live with him and take +care of his motherless child. What a chance this would have been for +Carrie! but now it was too late. I was half afraid as we came up to +the great red brick house, it was so grand and imposing, and so was +the solemn-looking butler who opened the door and ushered us into +the drawing-room. + +As we crossed the hall some one came suddenly out on us from a dark +lobby, and paused when he saw us. "Dr. Cameron! This is your niece, I +suppose, whom my sister Ruth is expecting?" and as he shook hands +with us he looked at me a little keenly, I thought. He was younger +than I expected; it flashed across me suddenly that I had once seen +his poor wife. I was standing looking out of the window one cold +winter's day, when a carriage drove up to the door with a lady +wrapped in furs. I remember Uncle Geoffrey went out to speak to her, +and what a smile came over her face when she saw him. She was very +pale, but very beautiful; every one said so in Milnthorpe, for she +had been much beloved. + +"My sister is in the drawing-room; you must excuse me if I say I am +in a great hurry," and then he passed on with a bow. I thought him +very formidable, the sort of man who would be feared as well as +respected by his dependants. He had the character of being a very +reserved man, with a great many acquaintances and few intimate +friends. I had no idea at that time that no one understood him so +well as Uncle Geoffrey. + +I was decidedly nervous when I followed Uncle Geoffrey meekly into +the drawing-room. Its size and splendor did not diminish my fears, +and I little imagined then how I should get to love that room. + +It was a little low, in spite of its spaciousness, and its three +long windows opened in French fashion on to the garden. I had a +glimpse of the lawn, with a grand old cedar in the middle, before my +eyes were attracted to a lady in deep mourning, writing in a little +alcove, half curtained off from the rest of the room, and looking +decidedly cozy. + +The moment she turned her face toward us at the mention of our +names, my unpleasant feelings of nervousness vanished. She was such a +little woman--slightly deformed, too--with a pale, sickly-looking +face, and large, clear eyes, that seemed to attract sympathy at once, +for they seemed to say to one, "I am only a timid, simple little +creature. You need not be afraid of me." + +I was not very tall, but I almost looked down on her as she gave me +her hand. + +"I was expecting you, Miss Cameron," she said, in such a sweet tone +that it quite won my heart. "Your uncle kindly promised to introduce +us to each other." + +And then she looked at me, not keenly and scrutinizingly, as her +brother had done, but with a kindly inquisitiveness, as though she +wanted to know all about me, and to put me at my ease as soon as +possible. I flushed a little at that, and my unfortunate +sensitiveness took alarm. If it were only Carrie, I thought, with her +pretty face and soft voice; but I was so sadly unattractive, no one +would be taken with me at first sight. Fred had once said so in my +hearing, and how I had cried over that speech! + +"Esther looks older than she is; but she is only seventeen," +interposed Uncle Geoffrey, as he saw that unlucky blush. "She is a +good girl, and very industrious, and her mother's right hand," went +on the simple man. If I only could have plucked up spirit and +contradicted him, but I felt tongue-tied. + +"She looks very reliable," returned Miss Lucas, in the kindest way. +To this day I believe she could not find any compliment compatible +with truth. I once told her so months afterward, when we were very +good friends, and she laughed and could not deny it. + +"You were frowning so, Esther," she replied, "from excess of +nervousness, I believe, that your forehead was quite lost in your +hair, and your great eyes were looking at me in such a funny, +frightened way, and the corners of your mouth all coming down, I +thought you were five-and-twenty at least, and wondered what I was to +do with such a proud, repellant-looking young woman; but when you +smiled I began to see then." + +I had not reached the smiling stage just then, and was revolving her +speech in rather a dispirited way. Reliable! I knew I was that; when +all at once she left off looking at me, and began talking to Uncle +Geoffrey. + +"And so you have finished all your Good Samaritan arrangements, Dr. +Cameron; and your poor sister-in-law and her family are really +settled in your house? You must let me know when I may call, or if I +can be of any use. Giles told me all about it, and I was so +interested." + +"Is it not good of Uncle Geoffrey?" I broke in. And then it must +have been that I smiled; but I never could have passed that over in +silence, to hear strangers praise him, and not join in. + +"I think it is noble of Dr. Cameron--we both think so," she +answered, warmly; and then she turned to me again. "I can understand +how anxious you must all feel to help and lighten his burdens. When +Dr. Cameron proposed your services for my little niece--for he knows +what an invalid I am, and that systematic teaching would be +impossible to me--I was quite charmed with the notion. But now, +before we talk any more about it, supposing you and I go up to see +Flurry." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +FLURRY AND FLOSSY. + + +What a funny little name! I could not help saying so to Miss Lucas +as I followed her up the old oak staircase with its beautifully +carved balustrades. + +"It is her own baby abbreviation of Florence," she returned, pausing +on the landing to take breath, for even that slight ascent seemed to +weary her. She was quite pale and panting by the time we arrived at +our destination. "It is nice to be young and strong," she observed, +wistfully. "I am not very old, it is true"--she could not have been +more than eight-and-twenty--"but I have never enjoyed good health, +and Dr. Cameron says I never can hope to do so; but what can you +expect of a crooked little creature like me?" with a smile that was +quite natural and humorous, and seemed to ask no pity. + +Miss Ruth was perfectly content with her life. I found out afterward +she evoked rare beauty out of its quiet every-day monotony, storing +up precious treasures in homely vessels. + +Life was to her full of infinite possibilities, a gradual dawning +and brightening of hopes that would meet their full fruition +hereafter. "Some people have strength to work," she said once to me, +"and then plenty of work is given to them; and some must just keep +quiet and watch others work, and give them a bright word of +encouragement now and then. I am one of those wayside loiterers," she +finished, with a laugh; but all the same every one knew how much Miss +Ruth did to help others, in spite of her failing strength. + +The schoolroom, or nursery, as I believe it was called, was a large +pleasant room just over the drawing-room, and commanding the same +view of the garden and cedar-tree. It had three windows, only they +were rather high up, and had cushioned window-seats. In one of them +there was a little girl curled up in company with a large brown and +white spaniel. + +"Well, Flurry, what mischief are you and Flossy concocting?" asked +Miss Lucas, in a playful voice, for the child was too busily engaged +to notice our entrance. + +"Why, it is my little auntie," exclaimed Flurry, joyously, and she +scrambled down, while Flossy wagged his tail and barked. Evidently +Miss Ruth was not a frequent visitor to the nursery. + +Flurry was about six, not a pretty child by any means, though there +might be a promise of future beauty in her face. She was a thin, +serious-looking little creature, more like the father than the +mother, and no one could call Mr. Lucas handsome. Her dark eyes +--nearly black they were--matched oddly, in my opinion, with her +long fair hair; such pretty fluffy hair it was, falling over her +black frock. When her aunt bade her come and speak to the lady who +was kind enough to promise to teach her, she stood for a moment +regarding me gravely with childish inquisitiveness before she gave +me her hand. + +"What are you going to teach me?" she asked. "I don't think I want +to be taught, auntie; I can read, I have been reading to Flossy, and +I can write, and hem father's handkerchiefs. Ask nursie." + +"But you would like to play to dear father, and to learn all sorts +of pretty hymns to say to him, would you not, my darling! There are +many things you will have to know before you are a woman." + +"I don't mean to be a woman ever, I think," observed Flurry; "I like +being a child better. Nursie is a woman, and nursie won't play; she +says she is old and stupid." + +A happy inspiration came to me. "If you are good and learn your +lessons, I will play with you," I said, rather timidly; "that is, if +you care for a grown-up playfellow." + +I was only seventeen, in spite of my _pronounce_ features, and +I could still enter into the delights of a good drawn battle of +battledore and shuttlecock. Perhaps it was the repressed enthusiasm +of my tone, for I really meant what I said; but Flurry's brief +coldness vanished, and she caught at my hand at once. + +"Come and see them," she said; "I did not know you liked dolls, but +you shall have one of your own if you like;" and she led me to a +corner of the nursery where a quantity of dolls in odd costumes and +wonderfully constrained attitudes were arranged round an inverted +basket. + +"Joseph and his brethren," whispered Flurry. "I am going to put him +in the pit directly, only I wondered what I should do for the camels +--this is Issachar, and this Gad. Look at Gad's turban." + +It was almost impossible to retain my gravity. I could see Miss +Lucas smiling in the window seat. Joseph and his brethren--what a +droll idea for a child! But I did not know then that Flurry's dolls +had to sustain a variety of bewildering parts. When I next saw them +the smart turbans were all taken off the flaxen heads, a few dejected +sawdust bodies hung limply round a miller's cart. "Ancient Britons," +whispered Flurry. "Nurse would not let me paint them blue, but they +did not wear clothes then, you know." In fact, our history lesson was +generally followed by a series of touching _tableaux vivants_, the +dolls sustaining their parts in several moving scenes of "Alfred and +the Cakes," "Hubert and Arthur," and once "the Battle of Cressy." + +Flurry and I parted the best of friends; and when we joined Uncle +Geoffrey in the drawing-room I was quite ready to enter on my duties +at once. + +Miss Lucas stipulated for my services from ten till five; a few +simple lessons in the morning were to be followed by a walk, I was to +lunch with them, and in the afternoon I was to amuse Flurry or teach +her a little--just as I liked. + +"The fact is," observed Miss Lucas, as I looked a little surprised +at this programme, "Nurse is a worthy woman, and we are all very much +attached to her; but she is very ignorant, and my brother will not +have Flurry thrown too much on her companionship. He wishes me to +find some one who will take the sole charge of the child through the +day; in the evening she always comes down to her father and sits with +him until her bedtime." And then she named what seemed to me a +surprisingly large sum for services. What! all that for playing with +Flurry, and giving her a few baby lessons; poor Carrie could not have +more for teaching the little Thornes. But when I hinted this to Uncle +Geoffrey, he said quietly that they were rich people and could well +afford it. + +"Don't rate yourself so low, little woman," he added, good-humoredly; +"you are giving plenty of time and interest, and surely that is +worth something." And then he went on to say that Jack must go to +school, he knew a very good one just by; some ladies who were +patients of his would take her at easy terms, he knew. He would call +that very afternoon and speak to Miss Martin. + +Poor mother shed a few tears when I told her our plans. It was sad +for her to see her girls reduced to work for themselves; but she +cheered up after a little while, and begged me not to think her +ungrateful and foolish. "For we have so many blessings, Esther," she +went on, in her patient way. "We are all together, except poor Fred, +and but for your uncle's goodness we might have been separated." + +"And we shall have such nice cozy evenings," I returned, "when the +day's work is over. I shall feel like a day laborer, mother, bringing +home my wages in my pocket. I shall be thinking of you and Dot all +day, and longing to get back to you." + +But though I spoke and felt so cheerfully, I knew that the evenings +would not be idle. There would be mending to do and linen to make, +for we could not afford to buy our things ready-made; but, with +mother's clever fingers and Carrie's help, I thought we should do +very well. I must utilize every spare minute, I thought. I must get +up early and help Deborah, so that things might go on smoothly for +the rest of the day. There was Dot to dress, and mother was ailing, +and had her breakfast in bed--there would be a hundred little things +to set right before I started off for the Cedars, as Mr. Lucas' house +was called. + +"Never mind, it is better to wear out than to rust out," I said to +myself. And then I picked up Jack's gloves from the floor, hung up +her hat in its place, and tried to efface the marks of her muddy +boots from the carpet (I cannot deny Jack was a thorn in my side just +now), and then there came a tap at my door, and Carrie came in. + +She looked so pretty and bright, that I could not help admiring her +afresh. I am sure people must have called her beautiful. + +"How happy you look, Carrie, in spite of your three little Thornes," +I said rather mischievously. "Has mother told you about Miss Lucas?" + +"Yes, I heard all about that," she returned, absently. "You are very +fortunate, Esther, to find work in which you can take an interest. I +am glad--very glad about that." + +"I wish, for your sake, that we could exchange," I returned, feeling +myself very generous in intention, but all the same delighted that my +unselfishness should not be put to the proof. + +"Oh, no, I have no wish of that sort," she replied, hastily; "I +could not quite bring myself to play with children in the nursery." I +suppose mother had told her about the dolls. "Well, we both start on +our separate treadmill on Monday--Black Monday, eh, Esther?" + +"Not at all," I retorted, for I was far too pleased and excited with +my prospects to be damped by Carrie's want of enthusiasm. I thought I +would sit down and write to Jessie, and tell her all about it, but +here was Carrie preparing herself for one of her chats. + +"Did you see me talking to Mr. Smedley, Esther?" she began; and as I +nodded she went on. "I had never spoken to him before since Uncle +Geoffrey introduced us to him. He is such a nice, practical sort of +man. He took me into the vicarage, and introduced me to his wife. She +is very plain and homely, but so sensible." + +I held my peace. I had rather a terror of Mrs. Smedley. She was one +of those bustling workers whom one dreads by instinct. She had a +habit of pouncing upon people, especially young ones, and driving +them to work. Before many days were over she had made poor mother +promise to do some cutting out for the clothing club, as though +mother had not work enough for us all at home. I thought it very +inconsiderate of Mrs. Smedley. + +"I took to them at once," went on Carrie, "and indeed they were +exceedingly kind. Mr. Smedley seemed to understand everything in a +moment, how I wanted work, and----" + +"But, Carrie," I demanded, aghast at this, "you have work: you have +the little Thornes." + +"Oh, don't drag them in at every word," she answered, pettishly--at +least pettishly for her; "of course, I have my brick-making, and so +have you. I am thinking of other things now, Esther; I have promised +Mr. Smedley to be one of his district visitors." + +I almost jumped off my chair at that, I was so startled and so +indignant. + +"Oh, Carrie! and when you know mother does not approve of girls of +our age undertaking such work--she has said so over and over again +--how can you go against her wishes?" + +Carrie looked at me mildly, but she was not in the least discomposed +at my words. + +"Listen to me, you silly child," she said, good-humoredly; "this is +one of mother's fancies; you cannot expect me with my settled views +to agree with her in this." + +I don't know what Carrie meant by her views, unless they consisted +in a determination to make herself and every one else uncomfortable +by an overstrained sense of duty. + +"Middle-aged people are timid sometimes. Mother has never visited +the poor herself, so she does not see the necessity for my doing it; +but I am of a different opinion," continued Carrie, with a mild +obstinacy that astonished me too much for any reply. + +"When mother cried about it just now, and begged me to let her speak +to Mr. Smedley, I told her that I was old enough to judge for myself, +and that I thought one's conscience ought not to be slavishly bound +even to one's parent. I was trying to do my duty to her and to every +one, but I must not neglect the higher part of my vocation." + +"Oh, Carrie, how could you? You will make her so unhappy." + +"No; she only cried a good deal, and begged me to be prudent and not +overtax my strength; and then she talked about you, and hoped I +should help you as much as possible, as though I meant to shirk any +part of my duty. I do not think she really disapproved, only she +seemed nervous and timid about it; but I ask you, Esther, how I could +help offering my services, when Mrs. Smedley told me about the +neglected state of the parish, and how few ladies came forward to +help?" + +"But how will you find time?" I remonstrated; though what was the +good of remonstrating when Carrie had once made up her mind? + +"I have the whole of Saturday afternoon, and an hour on Wednesday, +and now the evenings are light I might utilize them a little. I am to +have Nightingale lane and the whole of Rowley street, so one +afternoon in the week will scarcely be sufficient." + +"Oh, Carrie," I groaned; but, actually, though the mending lay on my +mind like a waking nightmare, I could not expostulate with her. I +only looked at her in a dim, hopeless way and shook my head; if these +were her views I must differ from them entirely. Not that I did not +wish good--heavenly good--to the poor, but that I felt home duties +would have to be left undone; and after all that uncle had done for +us! + +"And then I promised Mrs. Smedley that I would help in the Sunday +-school," she continued, cheerfully. "She was so pleased, and kissed +me quite gratefully. She says she and Mr. Smedley have had such up-hill +work since they came to Milnthorpe--and there is so much lukewarmness +and worldliness in the place. Even Miss Lucas, in spite of her goodness +--and she owned she was very good, Esther--will not take their advice +about things." + +"I told her," she went on, hesitating, "that I would speak to you, +and ask you to take a Sunday class in the infant school. You are so +fond of children, I thought you would be sure to consent." + +"So I would, and gladly too, if you would take my place at home," I +returned, quickly; "but if you do so much yourself, you will prevent +me from doing anything. Why not let me take the Sunday school class, +while you stop with mother and Dot?" + +"What nonsense!" she replied, flushing a little, for my proposition +did not please her; "that is so like you, Esther, to raise obstacles +for nothing. Why cannot we both teach; surely you can give one +afternoon a week to God's work?" + +"I hope I am giving not one afternoon, but every afternoon to it," I +returned, and the tears rushed to my eyes, for her speech wounded me. +"Oh, Carrie, why will you not understand that I think that all work +that is given us to do is God's work? It is just as right for me to +play with Flurry as it is to teach in the Sunday school." + +"You can do both if you choose," she answered, coolly. + +"Not unless you take my place," I returned, decidedly, for I had the +Cameron spirit, and would not yield my point; "for in that case Dot +would lose his Sunday lessons, and Jack would be listless and fret +mother." + +"Very well," was Carrie's response; but I could see she was +displeased with my plain speaking; and I went downstairs very tired +and dispirited, to find mother had cried herself into a bad headache. + +"If I could only talk to your dear father about it," she whispered, +when she had opened her heart to me on the subject of Carrie. "I am +old-fashioned, as Carrie says, and it is still my creed that parents +know best for their children; but she thinks differently, and she is +so good that, perhaps, one ought to leave her to judge for herself. +If I could only know what your father would say," she went on, +plaintively. + +I could give her no comfort, for I was only a girl myself, and my +opinions were still immature and unfledged, and then I never had been +as good as Carrie. But what I said seemed to console mother a little, +for she drew down my face and kissed it. + +"Always my good, sensible Esther," she said, and then Uncle Geoffrey +came in and prescribed for the headache, and the subject dropped. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +THE CEDARS. + + +I was almost ashamed of myself for being so happy, and yet it was a +sober kind of happiness too. I did not forget my father, and I missed +Allan with an intensity that surprised myself; but, in spite of hard +work and the few daily vexations that hamper every one's lot, I +continued to extract a great deal of enjoyment out of my life. To sum +it up with a word, it was life--not mere existence--a life brimming +over with duties and responsibilities and untried work, too busy for +vacuum. Every corner and interstice of time filled up--heart, and +head, and hands always fully employed; and youth and health, those +two grand gifts of God, making all such work a delight. + +Now I am older, and the sap of life does not run so freely in my +veins, I almost marvel at the remembrance of those days, at my +youthful exuberance and energy, and those words, "As thy day, so +shall thy strength be," come to me with a strange force and +illumination, for truly I needed it all then, and it was given to me. +Time was a treasure trove, and I husbanded every minute with a +miser's zeal. I had always been an early riser, and now I reaped the +benefit of this habit. Jack used to murmur discontentedly in her +sleep when I set the window open soon after six, and the fresh summer +air fanned her hot face. But how cool and dewy the garden looked at +that hour! + +It was so bright and still, with the thrushes and blackbirds hopping +over the wet lawn, and the leaves looking so fresh and green in the +morning sun; such twitterings and chirpings came from the lilac +trees, where the little brown sparrows twittered and plumed +themselves. The bird music used to chime in in a sort of refrain to +my morning prayers--a diminutive chorus of praise--the choral before +the day's service commenced. + +I always gave Jack a word of warning before I left the room (the +reprimand used to find her in the middle of a dream), and then I went +to Dot. I used to help him to dress and hear him repeat his prayers, +and talk cheerfully to him when he was languid and fretful, and the +small duties of life were too heavy for his feeble energies. Dot +always took a large portion of my time; his movements were slow and +full of tiny perversities; he liked to stand and philosophize in an +infantile way when I wanted to be downstairs helping Deborah. Dot's +fidgets, as I called them, were part of the day's work. + +When he was ready to hobble downstairs with his crutch, I used to +fly back to Jack, and put a few finishing touches to her toilet, for +I knew by experience that she would make her appearance downstairs +with a crooked parting and a collar awry, and be grievously plaintive +when Carrie found fault with her. Talking never mended matters; Jack +was at the hoiden age, and had to grow into tidiness and womanhood +by-and-by. + +After that I helped Deborah, and took up mother's breakfast. I +always found her lying with her face to the window, and her open +Bible beside her. Carrie had always been in before me and arranged +the room. Mother slept badly, and at that early hour her face had a +white, pining look, as though she had lost her way in the night, or +waked to miss something. She used to turn with a sweet troubled smile +to me as I entered. + +"Here comes my busy little woman," she would say, with a pretense at +cheerfulness, and then she would ask after Dot. She never spoke much +of her sadness to us; with an unselfishness that was most rare she +refused to dim our young cheerfulness by holding an unhealed grief +too plainly before our eyes. Dear mother, I realize now what that +silence must have cost her! + +When breakfast was over, and Uncle Geoffrey busily engrossed with +his paper, I used to steal into the kitchen and have a long confab +with Deborah, and then Jack and I made our bed and dusted our room to +save Martha, and by that time I was ready to start to the Cedars; but +not until I had convoyed Jack to Miss Martin's, and left her and her +books safely at the door. + +Dot used to kiss me rather wistfully when I left him with his +lesson-books and paint-box, waiting for mother to come down and +keep him company. Poor little fellow, he had rather a dull life of +it, for even Jumbles refused to stay with him, and Smudge was out in +the garden, lazily watching the sparrows. Poor little lonely boy, +deprived of the usual pleasures of boyhood, and looking out on our +busy lives from a sort of sad twilight of pain and weakness, but +keeping such a brave heart and silent tongue over it all. + +How I enjoyed my little walk up High street and across the wide, +sunshiny square! When I reached the Cedars, and the butler admitted +me, I used to run up the old oak staircase and tap at the nursery +door. + +Nurse used to courtesy and withdraw; Flurry and I had it all to +ourselves. I never saw Miss Lucas until luncheon-time; she was more +of an invalid than I knew at that time, and rarely left her room +before noon. Flurry and I soon grew intimate; after a few days were +over we were the best of friends. She was a clever child and fond of +her lessons, but she was full of droll fancies. She always insisted +on her dolls joining our studies. It used to be a little embarrassing +to me at first to see myself surrounded by the vacant waxen faces +staring at us, with every variety of smirk and bland fatuous +expression: the flaxen heads nid-nodded over open lesson-books, +propped up in limp, leathery arms. When Flossy grew impatient for a +game of play, he would drag two or three of them down with a vicious +snap and a stroke of his feathery paws. Flurry would shake her head +at him disapprovingly, as she picked them up and shook out their +smart frocks. The best behaved of the dolls always accompanied us in +our walk before luncheon. + +I used to think of Carrie's words, sometimes, as I played with +Flurry in the afternoon; she would not hear of lessons then. +Sometimes I would coax her to sew a little, or draw; and she always +had her half hour at the piano, but during the rest of the afternoon +I am afraid there was nothing but play. + +How I wish Dot could have joined us sometimes as we built our famous +brick castles, or worked in Flurry's little garden, where she grew +all sorts of wonderful things. When I was tired or lazy I used to +bring out my needle-work to the seat under the cedar, and tell Flurry +stories, or talk to her as she dressed her dolls; she was very good +and tractable, and never teased me to play when I was disinclined. + +I told her about Dot very soon, and she gave me no peace after that +until I took her to see him; there was quite a childish friendship +between them soon. Flurry used to send him little gifts, which she +purchased with her pocket-money--pictures, and knives, and pencils. I +often begged Miss Lucas to put a stop to it, but she only laughed and +praised Flurry, and put by choice little portions of fruit and other +dainties for Flurry's boy friend. + +Flurry prattled a great deal about her father, but I never saw him. +He had his luncheon at the bank. Once when we were playing battledore +and shuttle-cock in the hall--for Miss Lucas liked to hear us all +over the house; she said it made her feel cheerful--I heard a door +open overhead, and caught a glimpse of a dark face watching us; but I +thought it was Morgan the butler, until Flurry called out joyfully, +"Father! Father!" and then it disappeared. Now and then I met him in +the square, and he always knew me and took off his hat; but I did not +exchange a word with him for months. + +Flurry loved him, and seemed deep in his confidence. She always put +on her best frock and little pearl necklace to go down and sit with +her father, while he ate his dinner. She generally followed him into +his study, and chatted to him, until nurse fetched her at bed-time. +When she had asked me some puzzling question that it was impossible +to answer, she would refer it to her father with implicit faith. She +would make me rather uncomfortable at times respecting little +speeches of his. + +"Father can't understand why you are so fond of play," she said once +to me; "he says so few grown-up girls deign to amuse themselves with +a game: but you do like it, don't you, Miss Cameron?" making up a +very coaxing face. Of course I confessed to a great fondness for +games, but all the same I wished Mr. Lucas had not said that. Perhaps +he thought me too hoidenish for his child's governess, and for a +whole week after that I refused to play with Flurry, until she began +to mope, and my heart misgave me. We played at hide and seek that day +all over the house--Flurry and Flossy and I. + +Then another time, covering me with dire confusion, "Father thinks +that such a pretty story, Miss Cameron, the one about Gretchen. He +said I ought to try and remember it, and write it down; and then he +asked if you had really made it up in your head." + +"Oh, Flurry, that silly little story?" + +"Not silly at all," retorted Flurry, with a little heat; "father had +a headache, and he could not talk to me, so I told him stories to +send him to sleep, and I thought he would like dear little Gretchen. +He never went to sleep after all, but his eyes were wide open, +staring at the fire; and then he told me he had been thinking of dear +mamma, and he thought I should be very like her some day. And then he +thanked me for my pretty stories, and then tiresome old nursie +fetched me to bed." + +That stupid little tale! To think of Mr. Lucas listening to that. I +was not a very inventive storyteller, though I could warm into +eloquence on occasions, but Flurry's demand was so excessive that I +hit on a capital plan at last. + +I created a wonderful child heroine, and called her Juliet and told +a little fresh piece of her history every day. Never was there such a +child for impossible adventures and hairbreadth escapes; what that +unfortunate little creature went through was known only to Flurry and +me. + +She grew to love Juliet like a make-believe sister of her own, and +talked of her at last as a living child. What long moral +conversations took place between Juliet and her mother, what +admirable remarks did that excellent mother make, referring to sundry +small sins of omission and commission on Juliet's part! When I saw +Flurry wince and turn red I knew the remarks had struck home. + +It was astonishing how Juliet's behavior varied with Flurry's. If +Flurry were inattentive, Juliet was listless; if her history lessons +were ill-learned, Juliet's mamma had always a great deal to say about +the battle of Agincourt or any other event that it was necessary to +impress on her memory. I am afraid Flurry at last took a great +dislike to that well-meaning lady, and begged to hear more about +Juliet's little brother and sister. When I came to a very +uninteresting part she would propose a game of ball or a scamper with +Flossy; but all the same next day we would be back at it again. + +The luncheon hour was very pleasant to me. I grew to like Miss Lucas +excessively; she talked so pleasantly and seemed so interested in all +I had to tell her about myself and Flurry; a quiet atmosphere of +refinement surrounded her--a certain fitness and harmony of thought. +Sometimes she would invite us into the drawing-room after luncheon, +saying she felt lonely and would be glad of our society for a little. +I used to enjoy those half-hours, though I am afraid Flurry found +them a little wearisome. Our talk went over her head, and she would +listen to it with a droll, half-bored expression, and take refuge at +last with Flossy. + +Sometimes, but not often, Miss Lucas would take us to drive with +her. I think, until she knew me well, that she liked better to be +alone with her own thoughts. As our knowledge of each other grew, I +was struck with the flower-like unfolding of her ideas; they would +bud and break forth into all manner of quaint fancies--their +freshness and originality used to charm me. + +I think there is no interest in life compared to knowing people +--finding them out, their tastes, character, and so forth. I had an +inquisitive delight, I called it thirst, for human knowledge, in +drawing out a stranger; no traveler exploring unknown tracts of +country ever pursued his researches with greater zeal and interest. +Reserve only attracts me. + +Impulsive people, who let out their feelings the first moment, do +not interest me half so much as silent folk. I like to sit down +before an enclosed citadel and besiege it; with such ramparts of +defense there must be precious store in the heart of the city, some +hidden jewels, perhaps; at least, so I argue with myself. + +But, happy as I was with Miss Lucas and Flurry, five o'clock no +sooner struck than I was flying down the oak staircase, with Flurry +peeping at me between the balustrades, and waving a mite of a hand in +token of adieu; for was I not going home to mother and Dot? Oh, the +dear, bright home scene that always awaited me! I wonder if Carrie +loved it as I did! The homely, sunny little parlors; the cozy tea +table, over which old Martha would be hovering with careful face and +hands; mother in her low chair by the garden window; Uncle Geoffrey +with his books and papers at the little round table; Dot and Jack +hidden in some corner, out of which Dot would come stumping on his +poor little crutches to kiss me, and ask after his little friend +Flurry. + +"Here comes our Dame Bustle," Uncle Geoffrey would say. It was his +favorite name for me, and mother would look up and greet me with the +same loving smile that was never wanting on her dear face. + +On the stairs I generally came upon Carrie, coming down from her +little room. + +"How are the little Thornes?" I would ask her, cheerfully; but +by-and-by I left off asking her about them. At first she used to shrug +her shoulders and shake her head in a sort of disconsolate fashion, +or answered indifferently: "Oh, much as usual, thank you." But once +she returned, quite pettishly: + +"Why do you ask after those odious children, Esther? Why cannot you +let me forget them for a few hours? If we are brickmakers, we need +not always be telling the tales of our bricks." She finished with a +sort of weary tone in her tired voice, and after that I let the +little Thornes alone. + +What happy evenings those were! Not that we were idle, though--"the +saints forbid," as old Biddy used to say. When tea was over, mother +and I betook ourselves to the huge mending basket; sometimes Carrie +joined us, when she was not engaged in district work, and then her +clever fingers made the work light for us. + +Then there were Jack's lessons to superintend, and sometimes I had +to help Dot with his drawing, or copy out papers for Uncle Geoffrey: +then by-and-by Dot had to be taken upstairs, and there were little +things to do for mother when Carrie was too tired or busy to do them. +Mother was Carrie's charge. As Dot and Jack were mine, it was a fair +division of labor, only somehow Carrie had always so much to do. + +Mother used to fret sometimes about it, and complain that Carrie sat +up too late burning the midnight oil in her little room; but I never +could find out what kept her up. I was much happier about Carrie now +--she seemed brighter and in better spirits. If she loathed her daily +drudgery, she said little about it, and complained less. All her +interests were reserved for Nightingale lane and Rowley street. The +hours spent in those unsavory neighborhoods were literally her times +of refreshment. Her poor people were very close to her heart, and +often she told us about them as we sat working together in the +evening, until mother grew quite interested, and used to ask after +them by name, which pleased Carrie, and made a bond of sympathy +between them. At such times I somehow felt a little sad, though I +would not have owned it for worlds, for it seemed to me as though my +work were so trivial compared to Carrie's--as though I were a poor +little Martha, "careful and troubled about many things" about, +Deborah's crossness and Jack's reckless ways, occupied with small +minor duties--dressing Dot, and tidying Jack's and Uncle Geoffrey's +drawers; while Carrie was doing angel's work; reclaiming drunken +women, and teaching miserable degraded children, and then coming home +and playing sweet sacred fragments of Handel to soothe mother's worn +spirits, or singing her the hymns she loved. Alas! I could not sing +except in church, and my playing was a poor affair compared to +Carrie's. + +I felt it most on Sundays, when Carrie used to go off to the Sunday +school morning and afternoon, and left me to the somewhat monotonous +task of hearing Jack her catechism and giving Dot his Scripture +lesson. Sunday was always a trial to Dot. He was not strong enough to +go to church--the service would have wearied him too much--his few +lessons were soon done, and then time used to hang heavily on his +hands. + +At last the grand idea came to me to set him to copy Scripture maps, +and draw small illustrations of any Biblical scene that occurred in +the lesson of the day. I have a book full of his childish fancies +now, all elaborately colored on week-days--"Joseph and his Brethren" +in gaudy turbans, and wonderfully inexpressive countenances, +reminding me of Flurry's dolls; the queen of Sheba, coming before +Solomon, in a marvelous green tiara and yellow garments; a headless +Goliath, expressed with a painful degree of detail, more fit for the +Wirtz Gallery than a child's scrap-book. + +Dot used frequently to write letters to Allan, to which I often +added copious postscripts. I never could coax Dot to write to Fred, +though Fred sent him plenty of kind messages, and many a choice +little parcel of scraps and odds and ends, such as Dot liked. + +Fred was getting on tolerably, he always told us. He had rooms in +St. John's Wood, which he shared with two other artists; he was +working hard, and had some copying orders. Allan saw little of him; +they had no friends in common, and no community of taste. Never were +brothers less alike or with less sympathy. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +"I WISH I HAD A DOT OF MY OWN." + + +Months passed over, and found us the same busy, tranquil little +household. I used to wonder how my letters could interest Allan so +much as he said they did; I could find so little to narrate. And, +talking of that, it strikes me that we are not sufficiently thankful +for the monotony of life. I speak advisedly; I mean for the quiet +uniformity and routine of our daily existence. In our youth we +quarrel a little with its sameness and regularity; it is only when +the storms of sudden crises and unlooked-for troubles break over our +thankful heads that we look back with regret to those still days of +old. + +Nothing seemed to happen, nothing looked different. Mother grew a +little stronger as the summer passed, and took a few more household +duties on herself. Dot pined and pinched as the cold weather came on, +as he always did, and looked a shivering, shabby Dot sometimes. +Jack's legs grew longer, and her frocks shorter, and we had to tie +her hair to keep it out of her eyes, and she stooped more, and grew +round-shouldered, which added to her list of beauties; but no one +expected grace from Jack. + +At the Cedars things went on as usual, that Flurry left off calling +me Miss Cameron, and took to Esther instead, somewhat scandalizing +Miss Lucas, until she began taking to it herself. "For you are so +young, and you are more Flurry's playfellow than her governess," she +said apologetically; "it is no good being stiff when we are such old +friends." And after that I always called her Miss Ruth. + +"Don't you want see to Roseberry, Esther?" asked Flurry, one day +--that was the name of the little seaside place where Mr. Lucas had a +cottage. "Aunt Ruth says you must come down with us next summer; she +declares she has quite set her heart on it." + +"Oh, Flurry, that would be delightful!--but how could I leave mother +and Dot?" I added in a regretful parenthesis. That was always the +burden of my song--Mother and Dot. + +"Dot must come, too," pronounced Flurry, decidedly; and she actually +proposed to Miss Ruth at luncheon that "Esther's little brother +should be invited to Roseberry." Miss Ruth looked at me with kindly +amused eyes, as I grew crimson and tried to hush Flurry. + +"We shall see," she returned, in her gentle voice; "if Esther will +not go without Dot, Dot must come too." But though the bare idea was +too delightful, I begged Miss Ruth not to entertain such an idea for +a moment. + +I think Flurry's little speech put a kind thought into Miss Ruth's +head, for when she next invited us to drive with her, the gray horses +stopped for an instant at Uncle Geoffrey's door, and the footman +lifted Dot in his little fur-lined coat, and placed him at Miss +Ruth's side. And seeing the little lad's rapture, and Flurry's +childish delight, she often called for him, sometimes when she was +alone, for she said Dot never troubled her; he could be as quiet as a +little mouse when her head ached and she was disinclined to talk. + +I said nothing happened; but one day I had a pleasant surprise, just +when I did not deserve it; for it was one of my fractious days--days +of moods and tenses I used to called them--when nothing seemed quite +right, when I was beset by that sort of grown-up fractiousness that +wants to be petted and put to bed, and bidden to lie still like a +tired child. + +Winter had set in in downright earnest, and in those cold dark +mornings early rising seemed an affront to the understanding, and a +snare to be avoided by all right-minded persons; yet notwithstanding +all that, a perverse, fidgety notion of duty drove me with a scourge +of mental thorns from my warm bed. For I was young and healthy, and +why should I lie there while Deborah and Martha broke the ice in +their pitchers, and came downstairs with rasped red faces and +acidulated tempers? I was thankful not to do likewise, to know I +should hear in a few minutes a surly tap at the door, with the little +hot-water can put down with protesting evidence. Even then it was +hard work to flesh and blood, with no dewy lawn, no bird music now to +swell my morning's devotion with tiny chorus of praise; only a hard +frozen up world, with a trickle of meager sunshine running through it. + +But my hardest work was with Dot; he used to argue drowsily with me +while I stood shivering and awaiting his pleasure. Why did I not go +down to the fire if I were cold? He was not going to get up in the +middle of the night to please any one; never mind the robins--of +which I reminded him gently--he wished he were a robin too, and could +get up and go to bed with a neat little feather bed tacked to his +skin--nice, cosy little fellows; and then he would draw the +bedclothes round his thin little shoulders, and try to maintain his +position. + +He quite whimpered on the morning in question, when I lifted him out +bodily--such a miserable Dot, looking like a starved dove in his +white plumage; but he cheered up at the sight of the fire and hot +coffee in the snug parlor, and whispered a little entreaty for +forgiveness as I stooped over him to make him comfortable. + +"You are tired, Esther," said my mother tenderly, when she saw my +face that morning; "you must not get up so early this cold weather, my +dear." But I held my peace, for who would dress Dot, and what would +become of Jack? And then came a little lump in my throat, for I was +tired and fractious. + +When I got to the Cedars a solemn stillness reigned in the nursery, +and instead of an orderly room a perfect chaos of doll revelry +prevailed. All the chairs were turned into extempore beds, and the +twelve dolls, with bandaged heads and arms, were tucked up with the +greatest care. + +Flurry met me with an air of great importance and her finger on her +lip. + +"Hush, Esther, you must not make a noise. I am Florence Nightingale, +and these are all the poor sick and wounded soldiers; look at this +one, this is Corporal Trim, and he has had his two legs shot off." + +I recognized Corporal Trim under his bandages; he was the very doll +Flossy had so grievously maltreated and had robbed of an eye; the +waxen tip of his nose was gone, and a great deal of his flaxen wig +besides--quite a caricature of a mutilated veteran. + +I called Flurry to account a little sternly, and insisted on her +restoring order to the room. Flurry pouted and sulked; her heart was +at Scutari, and her wits went wool-gathering, and refused dates and +the multiplication table. To make matters worse, it commenced +snowing, and there was no prospect of a walk before luncheon. Miss +Ruth did not come down to that meal, and afterward I sat and knitted +in grim silence. Discipline must be maintained, and as Flurry would +not work, neither would I play with her; but I do not know which of +us was punished the most. + +"Oh, how cross you are, Esther, and it is Christmas eve!" cried +Flurry at last, on the verge of crying. It was growing dusk, and +already shadows lurked in the corner of the room, Flurry looked at me +so wistfully that I am afraid I should have relented and gone on a +little with Juliet, only at that moment she sprang up joyfully at the +sound of her aunt's voice calling her, and ran out to the top of the +dark staircase. + +"We are to go down, you and I; Aunt Ruth wants us," she exclaimed, +laying violent hands on my work. I felt rather surprised at the +summons, for Miss Ruth never called us at this hour, and it would +soon be time for me to go home. + +The drawing-room looked the picture of warm comfort as we entered +it; some glorious pine logs were crackling and spluttering in the +grate, sending out showers of colored sparks. + +Miss Ruth was half-buried in her easy-chair, with her feet on the +white fleecy rug, and the little square tea-table stood near her, +with its silver kettle and the tiny blue teacups. + +"You have sent for us, Miss Ruth," I said, as I crossed the room to +her; but at that instant another figure I had not seen started up +from a dark corner, and caught hold of me in rough, boyish fashion. + +"Allan! oh Allan! Allan!" my voice rising into a perfect crescendo +of ecstasy at the sight of his dear dark face. Could anything be more +deliciously unexpected? And there was Miss Ruth laughing very softly +to herself at my pleasure. + +"Oh, Allan, what does this mean," I demanded, "when you told us +there was no chance of your spending Christmas with us? Have you been +home? Have you seen mother and Dot? Have you come here to fetch me +home?" + +Allan held up his hands as he took a seat near me. + +"One question at a time, Esther. I had unexpected leave of absence +for a week, and that is why you see me; and as I wanted to surprise +you all, I said nothing about it. I arrived about three hours ago, +and as mother thought I might come and fetch you, why I thought I +would, and that you would be pleased to see me; that is all my +story," finished Allan, exchanging an amused glance with Miss Ruth. +They had never met before, and yet they seemed already on excellent +terms. All an made no sort of demur when Miss Ruth insisted that we +should both have some tea to warm us before we went. I think he felt +at home with her at once. + +Flurry seemed astonished at our proceeding. She regarded Allan for a +long time very solemnly, until he won her heart by admiring Flossy; +then she condescended to converse with him. + +"Are you Esther's brother, really?" + +"Yes, Miss Florence--I believe that is your name." + +"Florence Emmeline Lucas," she repeated glibly. "I'm Flurry for +short; nobody calls me Florence except father sometimes. It was dear +mamma's name, and he always sighs when he says it." + +"Indeed," returned Allan in an embarrassed tone; and then he took +Flossy on his knee and began to play with him. + +"Esther is rich," went on Flurry, rather sadly. "She has three +brothers; there's Fred, and you, and Dot. I think she likes Dot best, +and so do I. What a pity I haven't a Dot of my own! No brothers; only +father and Aunt Ruth." + +"Poor little dear," observed Allan compassionately--he was always +fond of children. His hearty tone made Flurry look up in his face. +"He is a nice man," she said to me afterward; "he likes Flossy and +me, and he was pleased when I kissed him." + +I did not tell Flurry that Allan had been very much astonished at +her friendship. + +"That is a droll little creature," he said, as we left the house +together; "but there is something very attractive about her. You have +a nice berth there, Esther. Miss Lucas seems a delightful person," an +opinion in which I heartily agreed. Then he asked me about Mr. Lucas; +but I had only Flurry's opinion to offer him on that subject, and he +questioned me in his old way about my daily duties. "Mother thinks +you are overworked, and you are certainly looking a little thin, +Esther. Does not Carrie help you enough? And what is this I have just +heard about the night school?" + +Our last grievance, which I had hitherto kept from Allan; but of +course mother had told him. It was so nice to be walking there by his +side, with the crisp white snow beneath our feet, and the dark sky +over our heads; no more fractiousness now, when I could pour out all +my worries to Allan. + +Such a long story I told him; but the gist of it was this; Carrie +had been very imprudent; she would not let well alone, or be content +with a sufficient round of duties. She worked hard with her pupils +all day, and besides that she had a district and Sunday school; and +now Mrs. Smedley had persuaded her to devote two evenings of her +scanty leisure to the night school. + +"I think it is very hard and unjust to us," I continued rather +excitedly. "We have so little of Carrie--only just the odds and ends +of time she can spare us. Mrs. Smedley has no right to dictate to us +all, and to work Carrie in the way she does. She has got an influence +over her, and she uses it for her own purposes, and Carrie is weak to +yield so entirely to her judgment; she coaxes her and flatters her, +and talks about her high standard and unselfish zeal for the work; +but I can't understand it, and I don't think it right for Carrie to +be Mrs. Smedley's parochial drudge." + +"I will talk to Carrie," returned Allan, grimly; and he would not +say another word on the subject. But I forgot all my grievances +during the happy evening that followed. + +Allan was in such spirits! As frolicsome as a boy, he would not let +us be dull, and so his talk never flagged for a moment. Dot laughed +till the tears ran down his cheeks when Allan kicked over the mending +basket, and finally ordered Martha to take it away. When Carrie +returned from the night school, she found us all gathered round the +fire in peaceful idleness, listening to Allan's stories, with Dot on +the rug, basking in the heat like a youthful salamander. + +I think Allan must have followed her up to her room, for just as I +was laying my head on the pillow there was a knock at the door, and +Carrie entered with her candle, fully dressed, and with a dark circle +round her eyes. + +She put down the light, so as not to wake Jack, and sat down by my +side with a weary sigh. + +"Why did you all set Allan to talk to me?" she began reproachfully. +"Why should I listen to him more than to you or mother? I begin to +see that a man's foes are indeed of his own household." + +I bit my lips to keep in a torrent of angry words. I was out of +patience with Carrie, even a saint ought to have common sense, I +thought, and I was so tired and sleepy, and to-morrow was Christmas +Day. + +"I could not sleep until I came and told you what I thought about +it," she went on in her serious monotone. I don't think she even +noticed my exasperated silence. "It is of no use for Allan to come +and preach his wordly wisdom to me; we do not measure things by the +same standard, he and I. You are better, Esther, but your hard +matter-of-fact reasoning shocks me sometimes." + +"Oh, Carrie! why don't you create a world of your own," I demanded, +scornfully, "if we none of us please you--not even Allan?" + +"Now you are angry without cause," she returned, gently, for Carrie +rarely lost her temper in an argument; she was so meekly obstinate +that we could do nothing with her. "We cannot create our own world, +Esther; we can only do the best we can with this. When I am working +so hard to do a little good in Milnthorpe, why do you all try to +hinder and drag me back?" + +"Because you are _over_doing it, and wearing yourself out," I +returned, determined to have my say; but she stopped me with quiet +peremptoriness. + +"No more of that, Esther; I have heard it all from Allan. I am not +afraid of wearing out; I hope to die in harness. Why, child, how can +you be so faint-hearted? We cannot die until our time comes." + +"But when we court death it is suicide," I answered, stubbornly; but +Carrie only gave one of her sweet little laughs. + +"You foolish Esther! who means to die, I should like to know? Why, +the child is actually crying. Listen to me, you dear goosie. I was +never so happy or well in my life." I shook my head sorrowfully, but +she persisted in her statement. "Mrs. Smedley has given me new life. +How I do love that woman! She is a perfect example to us--of +unselfishness and energy. She says I am her right hand, and I do +believe she means it, Esther." But I only groaned in answer. "She is +doing a magnificent work in Milnthrope," she continued, "and I feel +so proud that I am allowed to assist her. Do you know, I had twenty +boys in my class this evening; they would come to me, though Miss +Miles' class was nearly empty." And so she went on, until I felt all +over prickles of suppressed nervousness. "Well, good-night," she +said, at last, when I could not he roused into any semblance of +interest; "we shall see which of us be right by-and-by." + +"Yes, we shall see," I answered, drowsily; but long after she left I +muttered the words over and over to myself, "We shall see." + +Yes, by-and-by the light of Divine truth would flash over our +actions, and in that pure radiance every unworthy work would wither +up to naught--every unblessed deed retreat into outer darkness. Which +would be right, she or I? + +I know only too well that, taking the world as a whole, we ought to +_encourage_ Christian parochial work, because too many girls who +possess the golden opportunity of leisure allow it to be wasted, and +so commit the "sin of omission;" but there would have been quite as +much good done had Carrie dutifully helped in our invalid home and +cheered us all to health by her bright presence. And besides, I +myself could then perhaps have taken a class at me night school if +the stocking-mending and the other multitudinous domestic matters +could have allowed it. + +The chimes of St. Barnabas were pealing through the midnight air +before I slept. Above was the soft light of countless stars, sown +broadcast over the dark skies. Christmas was come, and the angel's +song sounding over the sleeping earth. + +"Peace and goodwill to men"--peace from weary arguments and +fruitless regret, peace on mourning hearts, on divided homes, on +mariners tossing afar on wintry seas, and peace surely on one +troubled girlish heart that waited for the breaking of a more perfect +day. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +MISS RUTH'S NURSE. + + +Miss Ruth insisted on giving me a week's holiday, that I might avail +myself of Allan's society; and as dear mother still persisted that I +looked pale and in need of change, Allan gave me a course of bracing +exercise in the shape of long country walks with him and Jack, when +we plowed our way over half-frozen fields and down deep, muddy lanes, +scrambling over gates and through hedges, and returning home laden +with holly berries and bright red hips and haws. + +On Allan's last evening we were invited to dine at the Cedars--just +Uncle Geoffrey, Allan, and I. Miss Ruth wrote such a pretty letter. +She said that her brother thought it was a long time since he had +seen his old friend Dr. Cameron, and that he was anxious to make +acquaintance with his nephew and Flurry's playfellow--this was Miss +Ruth's name for me, for we had quite dropped the governess between us. + +Allan looked quite pleased, and scouted my dubious looks; he had +taken a fancy to Miss Ruth, and wanted to see her again. He laughed +when I said regretfully that it was his last evening, and that I +would rather have spent it quietly at home with him. I was shy at the +notion of my first dinner-party; Mr. Lucas' presence would make it a +formal affair. + +And then mother fretted a little that I had no evening-dress ready. +I could not wear white, so all my pretty gowns were useless; but I +cheered her up by my assuring her that such things did not matter in +our deep mourning. And when I had dressed myself in my black +cashmere, with soft white ruffles and a little knot of Christmas +roses and ferns which Carrie had arranged in my dress, mother gave a +relieved sigh, and thought I should do nicely, and Allan twisted me +round, and declared I was not half so bad after all, and that, though +I was no beauty, I should pass, with which dubious compliment I was +obliged to content myself. + +"I wish you were going in my stead, Carrie," I whispered, as she +wrapped me in mother's warm fleecy shawl, for the night was +piercingly cold. + +"I would rather stay with mother," she answered quietly. And then +she kissed me, and told me to be a good child, and not to be +frightened of any one, in her gentle, elder sisterly way. It never +occurred to her to envy me my party or my pleasant position at the +Cedars, or to compare her own uncongenial work with mine. These sorts +of petty jealousies and small oppositions were impossible to her; her +nature was large and slightly raised, and took in wider vistas of +life than ours. + +My heart sank a little when I heard the sharp vibrating sound of +Mrs. Smedley's voice as we were announced. I had no idea that the +vicar and his wife were to be invited, but they were the only guests +beside ourselves. I never could like Mrs. Smedley and to the very +last I never changed my girlish opinion of her. I have a curious +instinctive repugnance to people who rustle through life; whose +entrances and exits are environed with noise; who announce their +intentions with the blast of the trumpet. Mrs. Smedley was a wordy +woman. She talked much and well, but her voice was loud and jarring. +She was not a bad-looking woman. I daresay in her younger days she +had been handsome, for her features were very regular and her +complexion good; but I always said that she had worn herself thin +with talking. She was terribly straight and angular (I am afraid I +called it bony); she had sharp high cheek bones, and her hands were +long and lean. On this evening she wore a rich brown brocade, that +creaked and rustled with every movement, and some Indian bangles that +jingled every time she raised her arm. I could not help comparing her +to Miss Ruth, who sat beside her, looking lovely in a black velvet +gown, and as soft and noiseless as a little mouse. I am afraid Mrs. +Smedley's clacking voice made her head ache terribly for she grew +paler and paler before the long dinner was over. As Miss Ruth greeted +me, I saw Mr. Lucas cross the room with Flurry holding his hand. + +"Flurry must introduce me to her playfellow," he said, with a kind +glance at us both, as the child ran up to me and clasped me close. + +"Oh, Esther, how I have wanted you and Juliet," she whispered; but +her father heard her. + +"I am afraid Flurry has had a dull week of it," he said, taking a +seat beside us, and lifting the little creature to his knee. How +pretty Flurry looked in her dainty white frock, all embroidery and +lace, with knots of black ribbons against her dimpled shoulders, and +her hair flowing round her like a golden veil! Such a little fairy +queen she looked! + +"Father has been telling me stories," she observed, confidently; +"they were very pretty ones, but I think I like Juliet best. And, oh! +Esther, Flossy has broken Clementina's arm--that is your favorite +doll, you know." + +"Has Miss Cameron a doll, too?" asked Mr. Lucas, and I thought he +looked a little quizzical. + +"I always call it Esther's," returned Flurry, seriously. "She is +quite fond of it, and nurses it sometimes at lessons." + +But I could bear no more. Mrs. Smedley was listening, I was sure, +and it did sound so silly and babyish, and yet I only did it to +please Flurry. + +"I am afraid you think me very childish," I stammered, for I +remembered that game of battledore and shuttlecock, and how excited I +had been when I had achieved two hundred. But as I commenced my +little speech, with burning cheeks and a lip that would quiver with +nervousness, he quietly stopped me. + +"I think nothing to your discredit, Miss Cameron. I am too grateful +to you for making my little girl's life less lonely. I feel much +happier about her now, and so does my sister." And then, as dinner +was announced, he turned away and offered his arm to Mrs. Smedley. + +Mr. Smedley took me in and sat by me, but after a few cursory +observations he left me to my own devices and talked to Miss Ruth. I +was a little disappointed at this, for I preferred him infinitely to +his wife, and I had always found his sermons very helpful; but I +heard afterward that he never liked talking to young ladies, and did +not know what to say to them. Carrie was an exception. She was too +great a favorite with them both ever to be neglected. Mr. Lucas' +attention was fully occupied by his voluble neighbor. Now and then he +addressed a word to me, that I might not feel myself slighted, but +Mrs. Smedley never seconded his efforts. + +Ever since I had refused to teach in the Sunday school she had +regarded me with much head-shaking and severity. To her I was simply +a frivolous, uninteresting young person, too headstrong to be guided. +She always spoke pityingly of "your poor sister Esther" to Carrie, as +though I were in a lamentable condition. I know she had heard of +Flurry's doll, her look was so utterly contemptuous. + +To my dismay she commenced talking to Mr. Lucas about Carrie. It was +very bad taste, I thought, with her sister sitting opposite to her; +but Carrie was Mrs. Smedley's present hobby, and she always rode her +hobby to death. No one else heard her, for they were all engaged with +Miss Ruth. + +"Such an admirable creature," she was saying, when my attention was +attracted to the conversation; "a most lovely person and mind, and +yet so truly humble. I confess I love her as though she were a +daughter of my own." Fancy being Mrs. Smedley's daughter! Happily, +for their own sakes, she had no children. "Augustus feels just the +same; he thinks so highly of her. Would you believe it, Mr. Lucas, +that though she is a daily governess like her sister," with a sharp +glance at poor little miserable me, "that that dear devoted girl +takes house to house visitation in that dreadful Nightingale lane and +Rowley street?" Was it my fancy, or did Mr. Lucas shrug his shoulders +dubiously at this? As Mrs. Smedley paused here a moment, as though +she expected an answer, he muttered, "Very praiseworthy, I am sure," +in a slightly bored tone. + +"She has a class in the Sunday-school besides, and now she gives two +evenings a week to Mr. Smedley's night school. She is a pattern to +all the young ladies of the place, as I do not fail to tell them." + +Why Mr. Lucas looked at me at that moment I do not know, but +something in my face seemed to strike him, for he said, in a curious +sort of tone, that meant a great deal, if I had only understood it: + +"You do not follow in your sister's footsteps, then, Miss Cameron?" + +"No, I do not," I answered abruptly, far too abruptly, I am afraid; +"human beings cannot be like sheep jumping through a hedge--if one +jumps, they all jump, you know." + +"And you do not like that," with a little laugh, as though he were +amused. + +"No, I must be sure it is a safe gap first, and not a short cut to +nowhere," was my inexplicable response. I do not know if Mr. Lucas +understood me, for just then Miss Ruth gave the signal for the ladies +to rise. The rest of the evening was rather a tedious affair. I +played a little, but no one seemed specially impressed, and I could +hear Mrs. Smedley's voice talking loudly all the time. + +Mr. Lucas did not address me again; he and Uncle Geoffrey talked +politics on the rug. The Smedleys went early, and just as we were +about to follow their example a strange thing happened; poor Miss +Ruth was taken with one of her bad attacks. + +I was very frightened, for she looked to me as though she were +dying; but Uncle Geoffrey was her doctor, and understood all about +it, and Allan quietly stood by and helped him. + +Mr. Lucas rang for nurse, who always waited on Miss Ruth as well as +Flurry, but she had gone to bed with a sick headache. The housemaid +was young and awkward, and lost her head entirely, so Uncle Geoffrey +sent her away to get her mistress' room ready, and he and Allan +carried Miss Ruth up between them; and a few minutes afterward I +heard Allan's whistle, and ran out into the hall. + +"Good-night, Esther," he said, hurriedly; I am just going to the +surgery for some medicine. Uncle Geoffrey thinks you ought to offer +your services for the night, as that girl is no manner of use; you +had better go up now." + +"But, Allan, I do not understand nursing in the least," for this +suggestion terrified me, and I wanted the walk home with Allan, and a +cozy chat when every one had gone to bed; but, to my confusion, he +merely looked at me and turned on his heel. Allan never wasted words +on these occasions; if people would not do their duty he washed his +hands of them. I could not bear him to be disappointed in me, or +think me cowardly and selfish, so I went sorrowfully up to Miss +Ruth's room, and found Uncle Geoffrey coming in search of me. + +"Oh, there you are, Esther," he said, in his most business-like +tone, taking it for granted, as a matter of course, that I was going +to stay. "I want you to help Miss Lucas to get comfortably to bed; +she is in great pain, and cannot speak to you just yet; but you must +try to assist her as well as you can. When the medicine comes, I will +take a final look at her, and give you your orders." And then he +nodded to me and went downstairs. There was no help for it; I must do +my little best, and say nothing about it. + +Strange to say, I had never been in Miss Ruth's room before. I knew +where it was situated, and that its windows looked out on the garden, +but I had no idea what sort of a place it was. + +It was not large, but so prettily fitted up, and bore the stamp of +refined taste, in every minute detail. I always think a room shows +the character of its owner; one can judge in an instant, by looking +round and noticing the little ornaments and small treasured +possessions. + +I once questioned Carrie rather curiously about Mrs. Smedley's room, +and she answered, reluctantly, that it was a large, bare-looking +apartment, with an ugly paper, and full of medicine chests and +work-baskets; nothing very comfortable or tasteful in its arrangements. +I knew it; I could have told her so without seeing it. + +Miss Ruth's was very different; it was perfectly crowded with pretty +things, and yet not too many of them. And such beautiful pictures +hung on the walls, most of them sacred: but evidently chosen with a +view to cheerfulness. Just opposite the bed was "The Flight into +Egypt;" a portrait of Flurry; and some sunny little landscapes, most +of them English scenes, finished the collection. There were some +velvet lined shelves, filled with old china, and some dear little +Dresden shepherdesses on the mantelpiece. A stand of Miss Ruth's +favorite books stood beside her lounge chair, and her inlaid Indian +desk was beside it. + +I was glad Miss Ruth liked pretty things; it showed such charming +harmony in her character. Poor Miss Ruth, she was evidently suffering +severely, as she lay on her couch in front of the fire; her hair was +unbound, and fell in thick short lengths over her pillow, reminding +me of Flurry's soft fluff, but not quite so bright a gold. + +I was sadly frightened when I found she did not open her eyes or +speak to me. I am afraid I bungled sadly over my task, though she was +quite patient and let me do what I liked with her. It seemed terribly +long before I had her safely in her bed. When her head touched the +pillows, she raised her eyelids with difficulty. + +"Thank you," she whispered; "you have done it so nicely, dear, and +have not hurt me more than you could help," and then she motioned me +to kiss her. Dear patient Miss Ruth! + +I had got the room all straight before Uncle Geoffrey came back, and +then Mr. Lucas was with him. Miss Ruth spoke to them both, and took +hold of her brother's hand as he leaned over her. + +"Good-night, Giles; don't worry about me; Esther is going to take +care of me." She took it for granted, too. "Dr. Cameron's medicine +will soon take away the pain." + +Uncle Geoffrey's orders were very simple; I must watch her and keep +up the fire, and give her another dose if she were to awake in two +hours' time; and if the attack came on again, I must wake nurse, in +spite of her headache, as she knew what to do; and then he left me. + +"You are very good to do this," Mr. Lucas said, as he shook hands +with me. "Have you been used to nursing?" + +I told him, briefly, no; but I was wise enough not to add that I +feared I should never keep awake, in Spite of some very strong coffee +Uncle Geoffrey had ordered me; but I was so young, and with such an +appetite for sleep. + +I took out my faded flowers when they left me, said my prayers, and +drank my coffee, and then tried to read one of Miss Ruth's books, but +the letters seemed to dance before my eyes. I am afraid I had a short +doze over Hiawatha, for I had a confused idea that I was Minnehaha +laughing-water; and I thought the forest leaves were rustling round +me, when a coal dropped out of the fire and startled me. + +It woke Miss Ruth from her refreshing sleep; but the pain had left +her, and she looked quite bright and like herself. + +"I am a bad sleeper, and often lie awake until morning," she said, +as I shook up her pillows and begged her to lie down again. "No, it +is no good trying again just now, I am so dreadfully wide awake. Poor +Esther! how tired you look, being kept out of your bed in this way." +And she wanted me to curl myself up on the couch and go to sleep, but +I stoutly refused; Uncle Geoffrey had said I was to watch her until +morning. When she found I was inexorable in my resolution to keep +awake, she began to talk. + +"I wonder if you know what pain is, Esther--real positive agony?" +and when I assured her that a slight headache was the only form of +suffering I had ever known, she gave a heavy sigh. + +"How strange, how fortunate, singular too, it seems to me. No pain! +that must be a foretaste of heaven;" and she repeated, dreamily, "no +more pain there. Oh, Esther, if you knew how I long sometimes for +heaven." + +The words frightened me, somehow; they spoke such volumes of +repressed longing. "Dear Miss Ruth, why?" I asked, almost timidly. + +"Can you ask why, and see me as I am to-night?" she asked, with +scarcely restrained surprise. "If I could only bear it more patiently +and learn the lesson it is meant to teach me, 'perfect through +suffering,' the works of His chisel!" And then she softly repeated +the words, + + "Shedding soft drops of pity + Where the sharp edges of the tool have been." + +"I always loved that stanza so; it gave me the first idea I ever +quite grasped how sorry He is when He is obliged to hurt us." And as +I did not know how to answer her, she begged me to fetch the book, +and she would show me the passage for myself. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +I WAS NOT LIKE OTHER GIRLS. + + +I had no idea Miss Ruth could talk as she did that night. She seemed +to open her heart to me with the simplicity of a child, giving me a +deeper insight into a very lovely nature. Carrie had hitherto been my +ideal, but on this night I caught myself wondering once or twice +whether Carrie would ever exercise such patience and uncomplaining +endurance under so many crossed purposes, such broken work. + +"I was never quite like other people," she said to me when I had +closed the book; "you know I was a mere infant in my nurse's arms, +when that accident happened." I nodded, for I had heard the sad +details from Uncle Geoffrey; how an unbroken pair of young horses had +shied across the road just as the nurse who was carrying Miss Ruth +was attempting to cross it; the nurse had been knocked down and +dreadfully injured, and her little charge had been violently thrown +against the curb, and it had been thought by the doctor that one of +the horses must have kicked her. For a long time she lay in a state +of great suffering, and it was soon known that her health had +sustained permanent injury. + +"I was always a crooked, stunted little thing," she went on, with a +lovely smile. "My childhood was a sad ordeal; it was just battling +with pain, and making believe that I did not mind. I used to try and +bear it as cheerfully as I could, because mother fretted so over me; +but in secret I was terribly rebellious, often I cried myself to +sleep with angry passionate tears, because I was not like other girls. + +"Do you care to hear all this?" interrupting herself to look at my +attentive face. It must have been a sufficient answer, for she went +on talking without waiting for me to speak. + +"Giles was very good to me, but it was hard on him for his only +sister to be such a useless invalid. He was active and strong, and I +could not expect to keep him chained to my couch--I was always on a +couch then--he had his friends and his cricket and football, and I +could not expect to see much of him, I had to let him go with the rest. + +"Things went on like this--outward submission and inward revolt--much +affection, but little of the grace of patience, until the eve of +my confirmation, when a stranger came to preach at the parish church. +I never heard his name before, and I never have heard it since. +People said he came from a distance; but I shall never forget that +sermon to my dying day, or the silvery penetrating voice that +delivered it. + +"It was as though a message from heaven was brought straight to me, +to the poor discontented child who sat so heart weary and desponding +in the corner of the pew. I cannot oven remember the text; it was +something about the suffering of Christ, but I knew that it was +addressed to the suffering members of His church, and that he touched +upon all physical and mental pain. And what struck me most was that +he spoke of pain as a privilege, a high privilege and special +training; something that called us into a fuller and inner fellowship +with our suffering head. + +"He told us the heathen might dread pain, but not the Christian; +that one really worthy of the name must be content to be the cross +bearer, to tread really and literally in the steps of the Master. + +"What if He unfolded to us the mystery of pain? Would He not unfold +the mystery of love too? What generous souls need fear that dread +ordeal, that was to remove them from the outer to the inner court? +Ought they not to rejoice that they were found worthy to share His +reproach? He said much more than this, Esther, but memory is so weak +and betrays one. But he had flung a torch into the darkest recesses +of my soul, and the sudden light seemed to scorch and shrivel up all +the discontent and bitterness; and, oh, the peace that succeeded; it +was as though a drowning mariner left off struggling and buffeting +with the waves that were carrying him to the shore, but just lay +still and let himself be floated in." + +"And you were happier," I faltered, as she suddenly broke off, as +though exhausted. + +"Yes, indeed," she returned softly. "Pain was not any more my enemy, +but the stern life companion He had sent to accompany me--the cross +that I must carry out of love to Him; oh, how different, how far more +endurable! I took myself in hand by-and-by when I grew older and had +a better judgment of things. I knew mine was a life apart, a +separated life; by that I mean that I should never know the joy of +wifehood or motherhood, that I must create my own little world, my +own joys and interests." + +"And you have done so." + +"Yes, I have done so; I am a believer in happiness; I am quite sure +in my mind that our beneficent Creator meant all His creatures to be +happy, that whatever He gives them to bear, that He intends them to +abide in the sunshine of His peace, and I determined to be happy. I +surrounded my-self with pretty things, with pictures that were +pleasant to the eye and recalled bright thoughts. I made my books my +friends, and held sweet satisfying communion with minds of all ages. +I cultivated music, and found intense enjoyment in the study of +Handel and Beethoven. + +"When I got a little stronger I determined to be a worker too, and +glean a little sheaf or two after the reapers, if it were only a +dropped ear now and then. + +"I took up the Senana Mission. You have no idea how important I have +grown, or what a vast correspondence I have kept up--the society +begin to find me quite useful to them--and I have dear unknown +correspondents whom I love as old friends, and whose faces I shall +only see, perhaps, when we meet in heaven. + +"When dear Florence died--that was my sister-in-law, you know--I +came to live with Giles, and to look after Flurry. I am quite a +responsible woman, having charge of the household, and trying to be a +companion to Giles; confess now, Esther, it is not such a useless +life after all?" + +I do not know what I answered her. I have a dim recollection that I +burst into some extravagant eulogium or other, for she colored to her +temples and called me a foolish child, and begged me seriously never +to say such things to her again. + +"I do not deserve all that, Esther, but you are too young to judge +dispassionately; you must recollect that I have fewer temptations +than other people. If I were strong and well I might be worldly too." + +"No, never," I answered indignantly; "you would always be better +than other people, Miss Ruth--you and Carrie--oh, why are you both so +good?" with a despairing inflection in my voice. "How you must both +look down on me." + +"I know some one who is good, too," returned Miss Ruth, stroking my +hair. "I know a brave girl who works hard and wears herself out in +loving service, who is often tired and never complains, who thinks +little of herself, and yet who does much to brighten other lives, and +I think you know her too, Esther?" But I would not let her go on; it +was scant goodness to love her, and Allan, and Dot. How could any one +do otherwise? And what merit could there be in that? + +But though I disclaimed her praise, I was inwardly rejoiced that she +should think such things of me, and should judge me worthy of her +confidence. She was treating me as though I were her equal and +friend, and, to do her justice the idea of my being a governess never +seemed to enter into hers or Mr. Lucas' head. + +They always treated me from this time as a young friend, who +conferred a favor on them by coming. My salary seemed to pass into my +hand with the freedom of a gift. Perhaps it was that Uncle Geoffrey +was such an old and valued friend, and that Miss Ruth knew that in +point of birth the Camerons were far above the Lucases, for we were +an old family whom misfortune had robbed of our honors. + +However this may be, my privileges were many, and the yoke of +service lay lightly on my shoulders. Poor Carrie, indeed, had to eat +the bitter bread of dependence, and to take many a severe rebuke from +her employer. Mrs. Thorne was essentially a vulgar-minded woman. She +was affected by the adventitious adjuncts of life; dress, mere +station and wealth weighed largely in her view of things. Because we +were poor, she denied our claim to equality; because Carrie taught +her children, she snubbed and repressed her, to keep her in her +place, as though Carrie were a sort of Jack-in-the-box to be jerked +back with every movement. + +When Miss Ruth called on mother, Mrs. Thorne shrugged her shoulders, +and wondered at the liberality of some people's views. When we were +asked to dinner at the Cedars (I suppose Mrs. Smedley told her, for +Carrie never gossiped), Mrs. Thorne's eye brows were uplifted in a +surprised way. Her scorn knew no bounds when she called one +afternoon, and saw Carrie seated at Miss Ruth's little tea-table; she +completely ignored her through the visit, except to ask once after +her children's lessons. Carrie took her snubbing meekly, and seemed +perfectly indifferent. Her quiet lady-like bearing seemed to impress +Miss Ruth most favorably, for when Carrie took her leave she kissed +her, a thing she had never done before. I looked across at Mrs. +Thorne, and saw her tea-cup poised half-way to her lips. She was +transfixed with astonishment. + +"I envy you your sister, Esther," said Miss Ruth, busying herself +with the silver kettle. "She is a dear girl--a very dear girl." + +"Humph!" ejaculated Mrs. Thorne. She was past words, and soon after +she took her departure in a high state of indignation and dudgeon. + +I did not go home the next day. Allan came to say good-by to me, +Uncle Geoffrey followed him, and he and Mr. Lucas both decided that I +could not be spared. Nurse was somewhat ailing, and Uncle Geoffrey +had to prescribe for her too; and as Miss Ruth recovered slowly from +these attacks, she would be very lonely, shut up in her room. + +Miss Ruth was overjoyed when I promised to stay with her as long as +they wanted me. Allan had satisfied my scruples about Jack and Dot. + +"They all think you ought to stay," he said. "Mother was the first +to decide that. Martha has promised to attend to Dot in your absence. +She grumbled a little, and so did he; but that will not matter. Jack +must look after herself," finished this very decided young man, who +was apt to settle feminine details in rather a summary fashion. + +If mother said it was my duty to remain, I need not trouble my head +about minor worries; the duty in hand, they all thought, was with +Miss Ruth, and with Miss Ruth I would stay. + +"It will be such a luxury to have you, Esther," she said, in her old +bright way. "My head is generally bad after these attacks, and I +cannot read much to myself, and with all my boasted resolution the +hours do seem very long. Flurry must spare you to me after the +morning, and we will have nice quiet times together." + +So I took possession of the little room next hers, and put away the +few necessaries that mother had sent me, with a little picture of +Dot, that he had drawn for me; but I little thought that afternoon +that it would be a whole month before I left it. + +I am afraid that long visit spoiled me a little; it was so pleasant +resuming some of the old luxuries. Instead of the cold bare room +where Jack and I slept, for, in spite of all our efforts, it did look +bare in the winter, I found a bright fire burning in my cozy little +chamber, and casting warm ruddy gleams over the white china tiles; +the wax candles stood ready for lighting on the toilet table; my +dressing gown was aging in company with my slippers; everything so +snug and essential to comfort, to the very eider-down quilt that +looked so tempting. + +Then in the morning, just to dress myself and go down to the +pleasant dining-room, with the great logs spluttering out a bright +welcome, and the breakfast table loaded with many a dainty. No +shivering Dot to coerce into good humor; no feckless Jack to frown +into order; no grim Deborah to coax and help. Was it very wicked that +I felt all this a relief? Then how deliciously the days passed; the +few lessons with Flurry, more play than work; the inspiriting ramble +ending generally with a peep at mother and Dot! + +The cozy luncheons, at which Flurry and I made our dinners, where +Flurry sat in state at the bottom of the table and carved the +pudding, and gave herself small airs of consequence, and then the +long quiet afternoons with Miss Ruth. + +I used to write letters at her dictation, and read to her, not +altogether dry reading, for she dearly loved an amusing book. It was +the "Chronicles of Carlingford" we read, I remember; and how she +praised the whole series, calling them pleasant wholesome pictures of +life. We used to be quite sorry when Rhoda, the rosy-cheeked +housemaid, brought up the little brass kettle, and I had to leave off +to make Miss Ruth's tea. Mr. Lucas always came up when that was over, +to sit with his sister a little and tell her all the news of the day, +while I went down to Flurry, whom I always found seated on the +library sofa, with her white frock spreading out like wings, waiting +to sit with father while he ate his dinner. + +I always had supper in Miss Ruth's room, and never left her again +till nurse came in to put her comfortable for the night. Flurry used +to run in on her way to bed to hug us both and tell us what father +had said. + +"You are father's treasure, his one ewe lamb, are you not?" said +Miss Ruth once, as she drew the child fondly toward her; and when she +had gone, running off with her merry laugh, she spoke almost with a +sigh of her brother's love for the child. + +"Giles's love for her almost resembles idolatry. The child is like +him, but she has poor Florence's eyes and her bright happy nature. I +tremble sometimes to think what would become of him if he lost her. I +have lived long enough to know that God sometimes takes away 'the +desire of a man's eyes, all that he holds most dear.'" + +"But not often," I whispered, kissing her troubled brow, for a look +of great sadness came over her face at the idea; but her words +recurred to me by-and-by when I heard a short conversation between +Flurry and her father. + +After the first fortnight Miss Ruth regained strength a little, and +though still an invalid was enabled to spend some hours downstairs. +Before I left the Cedars she had resumed all her old habits, and was +able to preside at her brother's dinner-table. + +I joined them on these occasions, both by hers and Mr. Lucas' +request, and so became better acquainted with Flurry's father. + +One Sunday afternoon I was reading in the drawing-room window, and +trying to finish my book by the failing wintry light, when Flurry's +voice caught my attention; she was sitting on a stool at her father's +feet turning over the pages of her large picture Bible. Mr. Lucas had +been dozing, I think, for there had been no conversation. Miss Ruth +had gone upstairs. + +"Father," said the little one, suddenly, in her eager voice, "I do +love that story of Isaac. Abraham was such a good man to offer up his +only son, only God stopped him, you know. I wonder what his mother +would have done if he had come home, and told her he had killed her +boy. Would she have believed him, do you think? Would she have ever +liked him again?" + +"My little Florence, what a strange idea to come into your small +head." I could tell from Mr. Lucas' tone that such an idea had never +occurred to him. What would Sarah have said as she looked upon her +son's destroyer? Would she have acquiesced in that dread obedience, +that sacrificial rite? + +"But, father dear," still persisted Flurry, "I can't help thinking +about it; it would have been so dreadful for poor Sarah. Do you think +you would have been like Abraham, father; would you have taken the +knife to slay your only child?" + +"Hush, Florence," cried her father, hoarsely, and he suddenly caught +her to him and kissed her, and bade her run away to her Aunt Ruth +with some trifling message or other. I could see her childish +question tortured him, by the strained look of his face, as he +approached the window. He had not known I was there, but when he saw +me he said almost irritably, only it was the irritability of +suppressed pain: + +"What can put such thoughts in the child's head? I hope you do not +let her think too much, Miss Cameron?" + +"Most children have strange fancies," I returned, quietly. "Flurry +has a vivid imagination; she thinks more deeply than you could credit +at her age; she often surprises me by the questions she asks. They +show an amount of reasoning power that is very remarkable." + +"Let her play more," he replied, in a still more annoyed voice. "I +hate prodigies; I would not have Flurry an infant phenomenon for the +world. She has too much brain-power; she is too excitable; you must +keep her back Miss Cameron." + +"I will do what I can," I returned humbly; and then, as he still +looked anxious and ill at ease, I went on, "I do not think you need +trouble about Flurry's precocity; children often say these things. +Dot, my little brother--Frankie, I mean--would astonish you with some +of his remarks. And then there was Jack," warming up with my subject; +"Jack used to talk about harps and angels in the most heavenly way, +till mother cried and thought she would die young; and look at Jack +now--a strong healthy girl, without an ounce of imagination." I could +see Mr. Lucas smile quietly to himself in the dusk, for he knew Jack, +and had made more than one quizzical remark on her; but I think my +observation comforted him a little, for he said no more, only when +Flurry returned he took her on his knees and told her about a +wonderful performing poodle he had seen, as a sort of pleasant +interlude after her severe Biblical studies. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +"WE HAVE MISSED DAME BUSTLE." + + +One other conversation lingered long in my memory, and it took place +on my last evening at the Cedars. On the next day I was going home to +mother and Dot, and yet I sighed! Oh, Esther, for shame! + +It was just before dinner. Miss Ruth had been summoned away to see +an old servant of the family, and Flurry had run after her. Mr. Lucas +was standing before the fire, warming himself after the manner of +Englishmen, and I sat at Miss Ruth's little table working at a fleecy +white shawl, that I was finishing to surprise mother. + +There was a short silence between us, for though I was less afraid +of Mr. Lucas than formerly, I never spoke to him unless he addressed +me; but, looking up from my work a moment, I saw him contemplating me +in a quiet, thoughtful way, but he smiled pleasantly when our eyes met. + +"This is your last evening, I think, Miss Cameron?" + +"Indeed it is," I returned, with a short sigh. + +"You are sorry to leave us?" he questioned, very kindly; for I think +he had heard the sigh. + +"I ought not to be sorry," I returned, stoutly; "for I am going home." + +"Oh! and home means everything with you!" + +"It means a great deal," knitting furiously, for I was angry at +myself for being so sorry to leave; "but Miss Ruth has been so good +to me that she has quite spoiled me. I shall not be half so fit for +all the hard work I have at home. + +"That is a pity," he returned, slowly, as though he were revolving +not my words, but some thoughts in his own mind. "Do you know I was +thinking of something when you looked up just now. I was wondering +why you should not remain with us altogether." I put down my knitting +at that, and looked him full in the face; I was so intensely +surprised at his words. "You and my sister are such friends; it would +be pleasant for her to have you for a constant companion, for I am +often busy and tired, and----" He paused as though he would have +added something, but thought better of it. "And she is much alone. A +young lively girl would rouse her and do her good, and Flurry would +be glad of you." + +"I should like it very much," I returned, hesitatingly, "if it were +not for mother and Dot." Just for the moment the offer dazzled me and +blinded my common sense. Always to occupy my snug little pink +chamber; to sit with Miss Ruth in this warm, luxurious drawing-room; +to be waited on, petted, spoiled, as Miss Ruth always spoiled people. +No wonder such a prospect allured a girl of seventeen. + +"Oh, they will do without you," he returned, with a man's +indifference to female argument. He and Allan were alike in the +facility with which they would knock over one's pet theories. "You +are like other young people, Miss Cameron; you think the world cannot +get on without you. When you are older you will get rid of this +idea," he continued, turning amused eyes on my youthful perplexity. +"It is only the young who think one cannot do without them," finished +this worldly-wise observer of human nature. + +Somehow that stung me and put me on my mettle, and in a moment I had +arrayed the whole of my feeble forces against so arbitrary an +arrangement of my destiny. + +"I cannot help what other young people think," I said, in rather a +perverse manner; "they may be wise or foolish as they like, but I am +sure of one thing, that mother and Dot cannot do without me." + +I am afraid my speech was rather rude and abrupt, but Mr. Lucas did +not seem to mind it. His eyes still retained their amused twinkle, +but he condescended to argue the point more seriously with me, and +sat down in Miss Ruth's low chair, as though to bring himself more on +a level with me. + +"Let me give you a piece of advice, Miss Cameron; never be too sure +of anything. Granted that your mother will miss you very badly at +first (I can grant you that, if you like), but there is your sister +to console her; and that irresistible Jack--how can your mother, a +sensible woman in her way, let a girl go through life with such a +name?" + +"She will not answer to any other,"' I returned, half offended at +this piece of plain speaking; but it was true we had tried +Jacqueline, and Lina, and Jack had always remained obstinately deaf. + +"Well, well, she will get wiser some day, when she grows into a +woman; she will take more kindly to a sensible name then; but as I +was saying, your mother may miss you, but all the same she may be +thankful to have you so well established and in so comfortable a +position. You will be a member of the family, and be treated as well +as my sister herself; and the additional salary may be welcome just +now, when there are school-bills to pay." + +It seemed clear common sense, put in that way, but not for one +instant would I entertain such a proposition seriously. The more +tempting it looked, the more I distrusted it. Mr. Lucas might be +worldly-wise, but here I knew better than he. Would a few pounds more +reconcile mother to my vacant place, or cheer Dot's blank face when +he knew Esther had deserted him? + +"You are very good," I said, trying to keep myself well in hand, and +to speak quietly--but now my cheeks burned with the effort; "and I +thank you very much for your kind thought, but----" + +"Give me no buts," he interrupted, smiling; "and don't thank me for +a piece of selfishness, for I was thinking most of my sister and +Flurry." + +"But all the same I must thank you," I returned, firmly; "and I +would like you to believe how happy I should have been if I could +have done this conscientiously." + +"It is really so impossible?" still incredulously. + +"Really and truly, Mr. Lucas. I am worth little to other people, I +know, but in their estimation I am worth much. Dot would fret badly; +and though mother would make the best of it--she always does--she +would never get over the missing, for Carrie is always busy, and Jack +is so young, and----" + +"There is the dinner bell, and Ruth still chattering with old nurse. +That is the climax of our argument. I dare say no more, you are so +terribly in earnest, Miss Cameron, and so evidently believe all you +say; but all the same, mothers part with their daughters sometimes, +very gladly, too, under other circumstances; but there, we will let +the subject drop for the present." And then he looked again at me +with kindly amused eyes, refusing to take umbrage at my obstinacy; +and then, to my relief, Miss Ruth interrupted us. + +I felt rather extinguished for the rest of the evening. I did not +dare tell Miss Ruth, for fear she would upbraid me for my refusal. I +knew she would side with her brother, and would think I could easily +be spared from home. And if Carrie would only give up her parish +work, and fit into the niche of the daughter of the house, she could +easily fulfill all my duties. If--a great big "if" it was--an "if" +that would spoil Carrie's life, and destroy all those sweet solemn +hopes of hers. No, no; I must not entertain such a thought for a +moment. + +Mr. Lucas had spoiled my last evening for me, and I think he knew +it, for he came to my side as I was putting away my work, and spoke a +few contrite words. + +"Don't let our talk worry you," he said, in so low a voice that Miss +Ruth could not hear his words. "I am sure you were quite right to +decide as you did--judging from your point of view, I mean, for of +course I hold a different opinion. If you ever see fit to change your +decision, you must promise to come and tell me." And of course I +promised unhesitatingly. + +Miss Ruth followed me to my room, and stood by the fire a few minutes. + +"You look grave to-night, Esther, and I flatter myself that it is +because you are sorry that your visit has come to an end." + +"And you are right," I returned, throwing my arms round her light +little figure. Oh, how dearly I had grown to love her! "I would like +to be always with you, Miss Ruth; to wait upon you and be your +servant. Nothing would be beneath me--nothing. You are fond of me a +little, are you not?" for somehow I craved for some expression of +affection on this last night. Miss Ruth was very affectionate, but a +little undemonstrative sometimes in manner. + +"I am very fond of you, Esther," she replied, turning her sweet eyes +to me, "and I shall miss my kind, attentive nurse more than I can +say. Poor Nurse Gill is getting quite jealous of you. She says Flurry +is always wild to get to her playfellow, and will not stay with her +if she can help it, and that now I can easily dispense with her +services for myself. I had to smooth her down, Esther; the poor old +creature quite cried about it, but I managed to console her at last." + +"I was always afraid that Mrs. Gill did not like me," I returned, in +a pained voice, for somehow I always disliked hurting people's +feelings. + +"Oh, she likes you very much; you must not think that. She says Miss +Cameron is a very superior young lady, high in manner, and quite the +gentlewoman. I think nurse's expression was 'quite the lady, Miss +Ruth.'" + +"I have never been high in manner to her," I laughed. "We have a +fine gossip sometimes over the nursery fire. I like Mrs. Gill, and +would not injure her feelings for the world. She is so kind to Dot, +too, when he comes to play with Flurry." + +"Poor little man, he will be glad to get his dear Esther back," she +returned, in a sympathizing voice; and then she bade me good-night, +and begged me to hasten to bed, as St. Barnabas had just chimed eleven. + +I woke the next morning with a weight upon me, as though I were +expecting some ordeal; and though I scolded myself vigorously for my +moral cowardice, and called myself a selfish, lazy girl, I could not +shake off the feeling. + +Never had Miss Ruth seemed so dear to me as she had that day. As the +hour approached for my departure I felt quite unhappy at the thought +of even leaving her for those few hours. + +"We shall see you in the morning," she said, quite cheerfully, as I +knelt on the rug, drawing on my warm gloves. I fancied she noticed my +foolish, unaccountable depression, and would not add to it by any +expression of regret. + +"Oh, yes," I returned, with a sort of sigh, as I glanced round the +room where I had passed the evenings so pleasantly of late, and +thought of the mending basket at home. I was naughty, I confess it; +there were absolutely tears in my eyes, as I ran out into the cold +dusk of a February evening. + +The streets were wet and gleaming, the shop lights glimmered on +pools of rain-water; icy drops pattered down on my face; the brewers' +horses steamed as they passed with the empty dray; the few foot +passengers in High street shuffled along as hastily as they could; +even Polly Pattison's rosy face looked puckered up with cold as she +put up the shutters of the Dairy. + +Uncle Geoffrey's voice hailed me on the doorstep. + +"Here you are, little woman. Welcome home! We have missed Dame +Bustle dreadfully;" and as he kissed me heartily I could not help +stroking his rough, wet coat sleeve in a sort of penitent way. + +"Have you really missed me? It is good of you to say so, Uncle Geoff." + +"The house has not felt the same," he returned, pushing me in before +him, and bidding me shake my cloak as I took it off in the passage. + +And then the door opened, and dear mother came out to help me. As I +felt her gentle touch, and heard Dot's feeble "Hurrah! here is +Esther!" the uncomfortable, discontented feelings vanished, and my +better self regained the mastery. Yes, it was homely and shabby; but +oh! so sunny and warm! I forgot Miss Ruth when Dot's beautiful little +face raised itself from the cushions of the sofa, on which I had +placed him, and he put his arms round me as I knelt down beside him, +and whispered that his back was bad, and his legs felt funny, and he +was so glad I was home again, for Martha was cross, and had hard +scrubby hands, and hurt him often, though she did not mean it. This +and much more did Dot whisper in his childish confidence. + +Then Jack came flying in, with Smudge, as usual, in her arms, and a +most tumultuous welcome followed. And then came Carrie, with her soft +kiss and few quiet words. I thought she looked paler and thinner than +when I left home, but prettier than ever; and she, too, seemed +pleased to see me. I took off my things as quickly as I could--not +stopping to look round the somewhat disorderly room, where Jack had +worked her sweet will for the last month--and joined the family at +the tea-table. And afterward I sat close to mother, and talked to her +as I mended one of Dot's shirts. + +Now and then my thoughts strayed to a far different scene--to a room +lighted up with wax candles in silver sconces, and the white china +lamp that always stood on Miss Ruth's little table. + +I could see in my mind's eye the trim little figure in black silk +and lace ruffles, the diamonds gleaming on the small white hands. +Flurry would be on the rug in her white frock, playing with the +Persian kittens; most likely her father would be watching her from +his armchair. + +I am afraid I answered mother absently, for, looking up, I caught +her wistful glance at me. Carrie was at her night school, and Uncle +Geoffrey had been called out. Jack was learning her lessons in the +front parlor, and only Dot kept us company. + +"You must find it very different from the Cedars," she said, +regretfully; "all that luxury must have spoiled you for home, Esther. +Don't think I am complaining, my love, if I say you seem a little +dull to-night." + +"Oh, mother!" flushing up to my temples with shame and irritation at +her words; and then another look at the worn face under the widow's +cap restrained my momentary impatience. Dot, who was watching us, +struck in in his childish way. + +"Do you like the Cedars best, Essie? Would you rather be with Flurry +than me?" + +My own darling! The bare idea was heresy, and acted on me like a +moral _douche_. + +"Oh! mother and Dot," I said, "how can you both talk so? I am not +spoiled--I refuse to be spoiled. I love the Cedars, but I love my own +dear little home best." And at this moment I believed my own words. +"Dot, how can you be so faithless--how could I love Flurry best? And +what would Allan say? You are our own little boy, you know; he said +so, and you belong to us both." And Dot's childish jealousy vanished. +As for dear mother, she smiled at me in a sweet, satisfied way. + +"That is like our own old Esther. You were so quiet all tea-time, my +dear, that I fancied something was amiss. It is so nice having you +working beside me again," she went on, with a little gentle artifice. +"I have missed your bright talk so much in the evenings." + +"Has Carrie been out much?" I asked; but I knew what the answer +would be. + +"Generally three evenings in the week," returned mother, with a +sigh, "and her home evenings have been so engrossed of late. Mrs. +Smedley gives her all sorts of things to do--mending and covering +books; I hardly knew what." + +"Carrie never sings to us now," put in Dot. + +"She is too tired, that is what she always says; but I cannot help +thinking a little music would be a healthy relaxation for her; but +she will have it that with her it is waste of time," said mother. + +Waste of time to sing to mother! I broke my thread in two with +indignation at the thought. Yes, I was wanted at home, I could see +that; Deborah told me so in her taciturn way, when I went to the +kitchen to speak to her and Martha. + +I had sad work with my room before I slept that night, when Jack was +fast asleep; and I was tired out when I crept shivering into my cold +bed. I hardly seemed to have slept an hour before I saw Martha's +unlovely face bending over me with the flaming candle, so different +from Miss Ruth's trim maid. + +"Time to get up, Miss Esther, if you are going to dress Master Dot +before breakfast. It is mortal cold, to be sure, and raw as raw; but +I have brought you a cup of hot tea, as you seemed a bit down last +night." + +The good creature! I could have hugged her in my girlish gratitude. +The tea was a delicious treat, and put new heart into me. I was quite +fresh and rested when I went into Dot's little room. He opened his +eyes widely when he saw me. + +"Oh, Esther! is it really you, and not that ugly old Martha?" he +cried out, joyfully. "I do hate her, to be sure. I will be a good +boy, and you shall not have any trouble." And thereupon he fell to +embracing me as though he would never leave off. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +PLAYING IN TOM TIDLER'S GROUND. + + +We had had an old-fashioned winter--weeks of frost to delight the +hearts of the young skaters of Milnthorpe; clear, cold bracing days, +that made the young blood in our veins tingle with the sense of new +life and buoyancy; long, dark winter evenings, when we sat round the +clear, red fire, and the footsteps of the few passengers under our +window rang with a sort of metallic sound on the frozen pavements. + +What a rush of cold air when the door opened, what snow-powdered +garments we used to bring into Deborah's spotless kitchen! Dot used +to shiver away from my kisses, and put up a little mittened hand to +ward me off. "You are like a snow-woman, Essie," he would say. "Your +face is as hard and cold and red as one of the haws Flurry brought me." + +"She looks as blooming as a rose in June," Uncle Geoffrey answered +once, when he heard Dot's unflattering comparison. "Be off, lassie, +and take off those wet boots;" but as I closed the door he added to +mother, "Esther is improving, I think; she is less angular, and with +that clear fresh color she looks quite bonnie." + +"Quite bonnie." Oh, Uncle Geoffrey, you little knew how that speech +pleased me. + +Winter lasted long that year, and then came March, rough and +boisterous and dull as usual, with its cruel east wind and the dust, +"a peck of which was worth a king's ransom," as father used to say. + +Then came April, variable and bright, with coy smiles forever +dissolving in tears; and then May in full blossom and beauty giving +promise of summer days. + +We used to go out in the lanes, Flurry and I, to gather the spring +flowers that Miss Ruth so dearly loved. We made a primrose basket +once for her room, and many a cowslip ball for Dot, and then there +were dainty little bunches of violets for mother and Carrie, only +Carrie took hers to a dying girl in Nightingale lane. + +The roads round Milnthorpe were so full of lovely things hidden away +among the mosses, that I proposed to Flurry that we should collect +basketsful for Carrie's sick people. Miss Ruth was delighted with the +idea, and asked Jack and Dot to join us, and we all drove down to a +large wood some miles from the town, and spent the whole of the +spring afternoon playing in a new Tom Tidler's ground, picking up +gold and silver. The gold lay scattered broadcast on the land, in +yellow patches round the trunks of trees, or beyond in the gleaming +meadows; and we worked until the primroses lay heaped up in the +baskets in wild confusion, and until our eyes ached with the yellow +gleam. I could hear Dot singing softly to himself as he picked +industriously. When he and Flurry got tired they seated themselves +like a pair of happy little birds on the low bough of a tree. I could +hear them twittering softly to each other, as they swung, with their +arms interlaced, backward and forward in the sunlight; now and then I +caught fragments of their talk. + +"We shall have plenty of flowers to pick in heaven," Dot was saying +as I worked near them. + +"Oh, lots," returned Flurry, in an eager voice, "red and white +roses, and lilies of the valley, miles of them--millions and +millions, for all the little children, you know. What a lot of +children there will be, Dot, and how nice to do nothing but play with +them, always and forever." + +"We must sing hymns, you know," returned Dot, with a slight +hesitation in his voice. Being a well brought up little boy, he was +somewhat scandalized by Flurry's views; they sounded somewhat earthly +and imperfect. + +"Oh, we can sing as we play," observed Flurry, irreverently; she was +not at all in a heavenly mood this afternoon. "We can hang up our +harps, as they do in the Psalms, you know, and just gather flowers as +long as we like." + +"It is nice to think one's back won't ache so much over it, there," +replied poor Dot, who was quite weak and limp from his exertions. +"One of the best things about heaven is, though it all seems nice +enough, that we shan't be tired. Think of that, Flurry--never to be +tired!" + +"I am never tired, though I am sleepy sometimes," responded Flurry, +with refreshing candor, "You forget the nicest part, you silly boy, +that it will never be dark. How I do hate the dark, to be sure." + +Dot opened his eyes widely at this. "Do you?" he returned, in an +astonished voice; "that is because you are a girl, I suppose. I never +thought much about it. I think it is nice and cozy when one is tucked +up in bed. I always imagine the day is as tired as I am, and that she +has been put to bed too, in a nice, warm, dark blanket." + +"Oh, you funny Dot," crowed Flurry. But she would not talk any more +about heaven; she was in wild spirits, and when she had swung enough +she commenced pelting Dot with primroses. Dot bore it stoutly for +awhile, until he could resist no longer, and there was a flowery +battle going on under the trees. + +It was quite late in the day when the tired children arrived home. + +Carrie fairly hugged Dot when the overflowing baskets were placed at +her feet. + +"These are for all the sick women and little children," answered +Dot, solemnly; "we worked so hard, Flurry and I." + +"You are a darling," returned Carrie, dimpling with pleasure. + +I believe this was the sweetest gift we could have made her. Nothing +for herself would have pleased her half so much. She made Jack and me +promise to help her carry them the next day, and we agreed, nothing +loth. We had quite a festive afternoon in Nightingale lane. + +I had never been with Carrie before in her rounds, and I was +wonderfully struck with her manner to the poor folk; there was so +much tact, such delicate sympathy in all she said and did. I could +see surly faces soften and rough voices grow silent as she addressed +them in her simple way. Knots of boys and men dispersed to let her +pass. + +"Bless her sweet face!" I heard one old road-sweeper say; and all +the children seemed to crowd round her involuntarily, and yet, with +the exception of Dot, she had never seemed to care for children. + +I watched her as she moved about the squalid rooms, arranging the +primroses in broken bowls, and even teacups, with a sort of +ministering grace I had never noticed in her before. Mother had +always praised her nursing. She said her touch was so soft and firm, +and her movement so noiseless; and she had once advised me to imitate +her in this; and as I saw the weary eyes brighten and the languid +head raise itself on the pillow at her approach, I could not but own +that Carrie was in her natural sphere. + +As we returned home with our empty baskets, she told us a great deal +about her district, and seemed grateful to us for sharing her +pleasure. Indeed, I never enjoyed a talk with Carrie more; I never so +thoroughly entered into the interest of her work. + +One June afternoon, when I returned home a little earlier than +usual, for Flurry had been called down to go out with her father, I +found Miss Ruth sitting with mother. + +I had evidently disturbed a most engrossing conversation, for mother +looked flushed and a little excited, as she always did when anything +happened out of the common, and Miss Ruth had the amused expression I +knew so well. + +"You are earlier than usual, my dear," said mother, with an odd +little twitch of the lip, as though something pleased her. But here +Dot, who never could keep a secret for five minutes, burst out in his +shrill voice: + +"Oh, Essie, what do you think? You will never believe it--you and I +and Flurry are going to Roseberry for six whole weeks." + +"You have forgotten me, you ungrateful child," returned Miss Ruth in +a funny tone; "I am nobody, I suppose, so long as you get your dear +Esther and Flurry." + +Dot was instinctively a little gentleman. He felt he had made a +mistake; so he hobbled up to Miss Ruth, and laid his hand on hers: +"We couldn't do without you--could we, Essie?" he said in a coaxing +voice. "Esther does not like ordering dinners; she often says so, and +she looks ready to cry when Deb brings her the bills. It will be ever +so much nicer to have Miss Ruth, won't it, Esther?" But I was too +bewildered to answer him. + +"Oh, mother, is it really true? Can you really spare us, and for six +whole weeks? Oh, it is too delightful! But Carrie, does she not want +the change more than I?" + +I don't know why mother and Miss Ruth exchanged glances at this; but +mother said rather sadly: + +"Miss Lucas has been good enough to ask your sister, Esther; she +thought you might perhaps take turns; but I am sorry to say Carrie +will not hear of it. She says it will spoil your visit, and that she +cannot be spared." + +"Our parochial slave-driver is going out of town," put in Miss Ruth +dryly. She could be a little sarcastic sometimes when Mrs. Smedley's +name was implied. In her inmost heart she had no more love than I for +the bustling lady. + +"She is going to stay with her niece at Newport, and so her poor +little subaltern, Carrie, cannot be absent from her post. One day I +mean to give a piece of my mind to that good lady," finished Miss +Ruth, with a malicious sparkle in her eyes. + +"Oh, it's no use talking," sighed mother, and there was quite a +hopeless inflection in her voice. "Carrie is a little weak, in spite +of her goodness. She is like her mother in that--the strongest mind +governs her. I have no chance against Mrs. Smedley." + +"It is a shame," I burst out; but Miss Ruth rose from her chair, +still smiling. + +"You must restrain your indignation till I have gone, Esther," she +said, in mock reproof. "Your mother and I have done all we could, and +have coaxed and scolded for the last half-hour. The Smedley influence +is too strong for us. Never mind, I have captured you and Dot; +remember, you must be ready for us on Monday week;" and with that she +took her departure. + +Mother followed me up to my room, on pretense of looking over Jack's +things, but in reality she wanted a chat with me. + +The dear soul was quite overjoyed at the prospect of my holiday; she +mingled lamentations over Carrie's obstinacy with expressions of +pleasure at the treat in store for Dot and me. + +"And you will not be lonely without us, mother?" + +"My dear, how could I be so selfish! Think of the benefit the sea +air will be to Dot! And then, I can trust him so entirely to you." +And thereupon she began an anxious inquiry as to the state of my +wardrobe, which lasted until the bell rang. + +But, in spite of the delicious anticipations that filled me, I was +not wholly satisfied, and when mother had said good-night to us I +detained Carrie. + +She came back a little reluctantly, and asked me what I wanted with +her. She looked tired, almost worn out, and the blue veins were far +too perceptible on the smooth, white forehead. I noticed for the +first time a hollowness about the temples; the marked restlessness of +an over-conscientious mind was wearing out the body; the delicacy of +her look filled me with apprehension. + +"Oh, Carrie!" I said, vehemently, "you are not well; this hot +weather is trying you. Do listen to me, darling. I don't want to vex +you, but you must promise me to come to Roseberry." + +To my surprise she drew back with almost a frightened look on her +face; well, not that exactly, but a sort of scared, bewildered +expression. + +"Don't, Esther. Why will none of you give me any peace? Is it not +enough that mother and Miss Lucas have been talking to me, and now +you must begin! Do you know how much it costs me to stand firm +against you all? You distress me, you wear me out with your talk." + +"Why cannot we convince you?" I returned, with a sort of despair. +"You are mother's daughter, not Mrs. Smedley's: you owe no right of +obedience to that woman." + +"How you all hate her!" she sighed. "I must look for no sympathy +from any of you--your one thought is to thwart me in every way." + +"Carrie!" I almost gasped, for she looked and spoke so unlike herself. + +"I don't mean to be unkind," she replied in a softening tone; "I +suppose you all mean it for the best. Once for all, Esther, I cannot +come to Roseberry. I have promised Mrs. Smedley to look after things +in her absence, and nothing would induce me to forfeit my trust." + +"You could write to her and say you were not well," I began; but she +checked me almost angrily. + +"I am well, I am quite well; if I long for rest, if the prospect of +a little change would be delightful, I suppose I could resist even +these temptations. I am not worse than many other girls; I have work +to do, and must do it. No fears of possible breakdowns shall frighten +me from my duty. Go and enjoy your holiday, and do not worry about +me, Esther." And then she kissed me, and took up her candle. + +I was sadly crestfallen, but no arguments could avail, I thought; +and so I let her go from me. And yet if I had known the cause of her +sudden irritability, I should not so soon have given up all hope. I +little knew how sorely she was tempted; how necessary some brief rest +and change of scene was to her overwrought nerves. If I had only been +patient and pleaded with her, I think I must have persuaded her; but, +alas! I never knew how nearly she had yielded. + +There was no sleep for Dot that night. I found him in a fever of +excitement, thumping his hot pillows and flinging himself about in +vain efforts to get cool. It was no good scolding him; he had these +sleepless fits sometimes; so I bathed his face and hands, and sat +down beside him, and laid my head against the pillow, hoping that he +would quiet down by-and-by. But nothing would prevent his talking. + +"I wish I were out with the flowers in the garden," he said; "I +think it is stupid being tucked up in bed in the summer. Allan is not +in bed, is he? He says he is often called up, and has to cross the +quadrangle to go to a great bare room where they bind up broken +heads. Should you like to be a doctor, Essie?" + +"If I were a man," I returned, confidently, "I should be either a +clergyman or a doctor; they are the grandest and noblest of +professions. One is a cure of bodies, and the other is a cure of +souls." + +"Oh, but they hurt people," observed Dot, shrinking a little; "they +have horrid instruments they carry about with them." + +"They only hurt people for their own good, you silly little boy. +Think of all the dark sick rooms they visit, and the poor, helpless +people they comfort. They spend their lives doing good, healing +dreadful diseases, and relieving pain." + +"I think Allan's life will be more useful than Fred's," observed +Dot. Poor little boy! Constant intercourse with grown-up people was +making him precocious. He used to say such sharp, shrewd things +sometimes. + +I sighed a little when he spoke of Fred. I could imagine him +loitering through life in his velveteen coat, doing little spurts of +work, but never settling down into thorough hard work. + +Allan's descriptions of his life were not very encouraging. His last +letter to me spoke a little dubiously about Fred's prospects. + +"He is just a drawing-master, and nothing else," wrote Allan. "Uncle +Geoffrey's recommendations have obtained admittance for him into one +or two good houses, and I hear he has hopes of Miss Hemming's school +in Bayswater. Not a very enlivening prospect for our elegant Fred! +Fancy that very superior young man sinking into a drawing-master! So +much for the hanging committee and the picture that is to represent +the Cameron genius. + +"I went down to Acacia road on Thursday evening, and dimly perceived +Fred across an opaque cloud of tobacco smoke. He and some kindred +spirits were talking art jargon in this thick atmosphere. + +"Fred looked a Bohemian of Bohemians in his gaudy dressing-gown and +velvet smoking-cap. His hair is longer than ever, and he has become +aesthetic in his tastes. There was broken china enough to stock a +small shop. I am afraid I am rather too much a Philistine for their +notions. I got some good downright stares and shrugs over my tough +John Bull tendencies. + +"Tell mother Fred is all right, and keeping out of debt, and so one +must not mind a few harmless vagaries." + +"Broken china, indeed!" muttered Uncle Geoff when I had finished +reading this clause. "Broken fiddlesticks! Why, the lad must be weak +in his head to spend his money on such rubbish." Uncle Geoffrey was +never very civil to Fred. + +Dot did not say any more, and I began a long story, to keep his +tongue quiet. As it was purposely uninteresting, and told in a +monotonous voice, it soon had the effect of making him drowsy. When I +reached this point, I stole softly from the room. It was bright +moonlight when I lay down in bed, and all night long I dreamed of a +rippling sea and broad sands, over which Dot and I were walking, hand +in hand. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +LIFE AT THE BRAMBLES. + + +It was a lovely evening when we arrived at Roseberry. + +"We lead regular hermit lives at the Brambles, away from the haunts +of men," observed Miss Ruth; but I was too much occupied to answer +her. Dot and I were peeping through the windows of the little omnibus +that was conveying us and our luggage to the cottage. Miss Ruth had a +pretty little pony carriage for country use; but she would not have +it sent to the station to meet us--the omnibus would hold us all, she +said. Nurse could go outside; the other two servants who made up the +modest establishment at the Brambles had arrived the previous day. + +Roseberry was a straggling little place, without much pretension to +gentility. A row of white lodging-houses, with green verandas, looked +over the little parade; there was a railed-in green enclosure before +the houses, where a few children played. + +Half a dozen bathing-machines were drawn up on the beach; beyond was +the Preventive station, and the little white cottages where the +Preventive men lived, with neat little gardens in front. + +The town was rather like Milnthorpe, for it boasted only one long +street. A few modest shops, the Blue Boar Inn, and a bow-windowed +house, with "Library" painted on it in large characters, were mixed +up with pleasant-looking dwelling houses. The little gray church was +down a country road, and did not look as though it belonged to the +town, but the schools were in High street. Beyond Roseberry were the +great rolling downs. + +We had left the tiny parade and the lodging houses behind us, and +our little omnibus seemed jolting over the beach--I believe they +called it a road but it was rough and stony, and seemed to lead to +the shore. It was quite a surprise when we drove sharply round a low +rocky point, and came upon a low gray cottage, with a little garden +running down to the beach. + +Truly a hermit's abode, the Brambles; not another house in sight; +low, white chalky cliffs, with the green downs above them, and, far +as we could see, a steep beach, with long fringes of yellow sands, +with the grey sea breaking softly in the distance, for it was low +tide, and the sun had set. + +"Is this too lonely for you, Esther?" asked Miss Ruth, as we walked +up the pebbly path to the porch. It was a deep stone porch, with +seats on either side, and its depth gave darkness to the little +square hall, with its stone fireplace and oak settles. + +"What a delicious place!" was my answer, as I followed her from one +room into another. The cottage was a perfect nest of cozy little +rooms, all very tiny, and leading into each other. + +There was a snug dining-room that led into Mr. Lucas' study, and +beyond that two little drawing-rooms, very small, and simply though +prettily furnished. They were perfect summer rooms, with their Indian +matting and muslin curtains, with wicker chairs and lounges, and +brackets with Miss Ruth's favorite china. + +Upstairs the arrangements were just as simple; not a carpet was to +be seen, only dark polishes floors and strips of Indian matting, cool +chintz coverings, and furniture of the simplest maple and pine wood +--a charming summer retreat, fitted up with unostentatious taste. There +was a tiny garden at the back, shut in by a low chalk cliff, a rough +zigzag path that goats might have climbed led to the downs, and there +was a breach where we could enjoy the sweet air and wide prospect. + +It was quite a cottage garden. All the old-fashioned flowers bloomed +there; little pink cabbage roses, Turks-caps, lilies, lupins, and +monkshood and columbines. Everlasting peas and scarlet-runners ran +along the wall, and wide-lipped convolvuli, scarlet weeds of poppies +flaunted beside the delicate white harebells, sweet-william and +gillyflowers, and humble southernwood, and homely pinks and fragrant +clove carnations, and pansies of every shade in purple and golden +patches. + +"Oh, Essie, it reminds me of our cottage; why, there are the lilies +and the beehives, and there is the porch where you said you should +sit on summer evenings and mend Allan's socks." And Dot leaned on his +crutches and looked round with bright wide-open eyes. + +Our little dream cottage; well, it was not unlike it, only the sea +and the downs and the low chalk cliffs were added. How Dot and I grew +to love that garden! There was an old medlar tree, very gnarled and +crooked, under which Miss Ruth used to place her little tea-table; +the wicker chairs were brought out and there we often used to spend +our afternoons, with little blue butterflies hovering round us, and +the bees humming among the sweet thyme and marjoram, and sometimes an +adventurous sheep looking down on us from the cliff. + +We led a perfect gypsy life at the Brambles; no one called on us, +the vicar of Roseberry was away, and a stranger had taken his duty; +no interloper from the outer world broke the peaceful monotony of our +days, and the sea kept up its plaintive music night and day, and the +larks sang to us, and the busy humming of insect life made an +undertone of melody, and in early mornings the little garden seemed +steeped in dew and fragrance. We used to rise early, and after +breakfast Flurry and I bathed. There was a little bathing-room beyond +the cottage with a sort of wooden bridge running over the beach, and +there Flurry and I would disport ourselves like mermaids. + +After a brisk run on the sands or over the downs, we joined Miss +Ruth on the beach, where we worked and talked, or helped the children +build sand-castles, and deck them with stone and sea-weeds. What +treasures we collected for Carrie's Sunday scholars; what stores of +bright-colored seaweed--or sea flowers, as Dot persisted in calling +them--and heaps of faintly-tinged shells! + +Flurry's doll family had accompanied us to the Brambles. "The poor +dear things wanted change of air!" Flurry had decided; and in spite +of my dissuasion, all the fair waxen creatures and their +heterogeneous wardrobe had been consigned to a vast trunk. + +Flurry's large family had given her infinite trouble when we settled +for our mornings on the beach. She traveled up and down the long +stony hillocks to the cottage until her little legs ached, to fetch +the twelve dolls. When they were all deposited in their white +sun-bonnets under a big umbrella, to save their complexions, which, +notwithstanding, suffered severely, then, and then only, would Flurry +join Dot on the narrow sands. + +Sometimes the tide rose, or a sudden shower came on, and then great +was the confusion. Once a receding wave carried out Corporal Trim, +the most unlucky of dolls, to sea. Flurry wrung her hands and wept so +bitterly over this disaster that Miss Ruth was quite frightened, and +Flossy jumped up and licked his little mistress' face and the faces +of the dolls by turns. + +"Oh, the dear thing is drownded," sobbed Flurry, as Corporal Trim +floundered hopelessly in the surge. Dot's soft heart was so moved by +her distress that he hobbled into the water, crutches and all, to my +infinite terror. + +"Don't cry. Flurry; I've got him by the hair of his head," shouted +Dot, valiantly shouldering the dripping doll. Flurry ran down the +beach with the tears still on her cheeks, and took the wretched +corporal and hugged him to her bosom. + +"Oh, my poor drownded Trim," cried Flurry tenderly, and a strange +procession formed to the cottage. Flurry with the poor victim in her +arms and Flossy jumping and barking delightedly round her, and +snatching at the wet rags; Dot, also, wet and miserable, toiling up +the beach on his crutches; Miss Ruth and I following with the eleven +dolls. + +The poor corporal spent the rest of the day watching his own clothes +drying by the kitchen fire, where Dot kept him company; Flurry +trotted in and out, and petted them both. I am afraid Dot, being a +boy, often found the dolls a nuisance, and could have dispensed with +their company. There was a grand quarrel once when he flatly refused +to carry one. "I can't make believe to be a girl," said Dot, curling +his lip with infinite contempt. + +"We used to spend our afternoons in the garden. It was cooler than +the beach, and the shade of the old medlar was refreshing. We +sometimes read aloud to the children, but oftener they were working +in their little gardens, or playing with some tame rabbits that +belonged to Flurry. Dot always hobbled after Flurry wherever she +went; he was her devoted slave. Flurry sometimes treated him like one +of her dolls, or put on little motherly airs, in imitation of Miss +Ruth. + +"You are tired, my dear boy; pray lean on me," we heard her once +say, propping him with her childish arm. "Sit down in the shade, you +must not heat yourself;" but Dot rather resented her care of him, +after the fashion of boys, but on the whole they suited each other +perfectly. + +In the evenings we always walked over the downs or drove with Miss +Ruth in her pony carriage through the leafy lanes, or beside the +yellow cornfields. The children used to gather large nosegays of +poppies and cornflowers, and little pinky convolvuli. Sometimes we +visited a farmhouse where some people lived whom Miss Ruth knew. + +Once we stopped and had supper there, a homely meal of milk, and +brown bread, and cream cheese, with a golden honeycomb to follow, +which we ate in the farmyard kitchen. What an exquisite time we had +there, sitting in the low window seat, looking over a bright clover +field. A brood of little yellow chickens ran over the red-brick +floor, a black retriever and her puppies lay before the fire--fat +black puppies with blunt noses and foolish faces, turning over on +their backs, and blundering under every one's feet. + +Dot and Flurry went out to see the cows milked, and came back with +long stories of the dear little white, curly-tailed pigs. Flurry +wrote to her father the next day, and begged that he would buy her +one for a pet. Both she and Dot were indignant when he told them the +little pig they admired so much would become a great ugly sow like +its mother. + +Mrs. Blake, the farmer's wife, took a great fancy to Dot, and begged +him to come again, which both the children promised her most +earnestly to do. They both carried off spoils of bright red apples to +eat on the way. + +It was almost dark when we drove home through the narrow lanes; the +hedgerows glimmered strangely in the dusk; a fresh sea-ladened wind +blew in our faces across the downs, the lights shone from the +Preventive station, and across the vague mist glimmered a star or +two. How fragrant and still it was, only the soft washing of the +waves on the beach to break the silence! + +Miss Ruth shivered a little as we rattled down the road leading to +the Brambles. Dorcas, mindful of her mistress' delicacy, had lighted +a little fire in the inner drawing-room, and had hot coffee waiting +for us. + +It looked so snug and inviting that the children left it reluctantly +to go to bed; but Miss Ruth was inexorable. This was our cozy hour; +all through the day we had to devote ourselves to the children--we +used to enjoy this quiet time to ourselves. Sometimes I wrote to +mother or Carrie, or we mutually took up our books; but oftener we +sat and talked as we did on this evening, until Nurse came to remind +us of the lateness of the hour. + +Mr. Lucas paid us brief visits; he generally came down on Saturday +evening and remained until Monday. Miss Ruth could never coax him to +stay longer; I think his business distracted him, and kept his +trouble at bay. In this quiet place he would have grown restless. He +had bought the Brambles to please his wife, and she, and not Miss +Ruth, had furnished it. They had spent happy summers there when +Flurry was a baby. The little garden had been a wilderness until +then; every flower had been planted by his wife, every room bore +witness to her charming taste. No wonder he regarded it with such +mingled feelings of pain and pleasure. + +Mr. Lucas made no difference to our simple routine. Miss Ruth and +Flurry used to drive to the little station to meet him, and bring him +back in triumph to the seven o'clock nondescript meal, that was +neither dinner nor tea, nor supper, but a compound of all. I used to +go up with the children after that meal, that he and Miss Ruth might +enjoy their chat undisturbed. When I returned to the drawing-room +Miss Ruth was invariably alone. + +"Giles has gone out for a solitary prowl," she would say; and he +rarely returned before we went upstairs. Miss Ruth knew his habits, +and seldom waited up to say good-night to him. + +"He likes better to be alone when he is in this mood," she would say +sometimes. Her tact and cleverness in managing him were wonderful; +she never seemed to watch him, she never let him feel that his morbid +fits were noticed and humored, but all the same she knew when to +leave him alone, and when to talk to him; she could be his bright +companion, or sit silently beside him for hours. On Sunday mornings +Mr. Lucas always accompanied us to church, and in the afternoon he +sat with the children on the beach. Dot soon got very fond of him, +and would talk to him in his fearless way, about anything that came +into his head; Miss Ruth sometimes joined them, but I always went +apart with my book. + +Mr. Lucas was so good to me that I could not bear to hamper him in +the least by my presence; with grown-up people he was a little stiff +and reserved, but with children he was his true self. + +Flurry doted on her father, and Dot told me in confidence that "he +was the nicest man he had ever known except Uncle Geoffrey." + +I could not hear their talk from my nest in the cliff, but I am +afraid Dot's chief occupation was to hunt the little scurrying crabs +into a certain pool he had already fringed with seaweed. I could see +him and Flurry carrying the big jelly-fishes, and floating them +carefully. They had left their spades and buckets at home, out of +respect for the sacredness of the day; but neither Flurry's clean +white frock nor Dot's new suit hindered them from scooping out the +sand with their hands, and making rough and ready ramparts to keep in +their prey. + +Mr. Lucas used to lie on the beach with his straw hat over his eyes, +and watch their play, and pet Flossy. When he was tired of inaction +he used to call to the children, and walk slowly and thought fully +on. Flurry used to run after him. + +"Oh, do wait for Dot, father," she would plead; nothing would induce +her to leave her infirm and halting little playfellow. One day, when +Mr. Lucas was impatient of his slow progress, I saw him shoulder him, +crutches and all, and march off with him, Dot clapping his hands and +shouting with delight. That was the only time I followed them; but I +was so afraid Dot was a hindrance, and wanted to capture him, I +walked quite a mile before I met them coming back. + +Mr. Lucas was still carrying Dot; Flurry was trotting beside him, +and pretending to use Dot's crutches. + +"We have been ever so far, Essie," screamed Dot when he caught sight +of me. "We have seen lots of seagulls, and a great cave where the +smugglers used to hide." + +"Oh, Dot, you must not let Mr. Lucas carry you," I said, holding out +my arms to relieve him of his burden. "You must stay with me, and I +will tell you a story." + +"He is happier up here, aren't you, Frankie boy?" returned Mr. +Lucas, cheerfully. + +"Oh, but he will tire you," I faltered. + +"Tire me, this little bundle of bones!" peeping at Dot over his +shoulder; "why, I could walk miles with him. Don't trouble yourself +about him, Miss Esther. We understand each other perfectly." + +And then he left me, walking with long, easy strides over the uneven +ground, with Flurry running to keep up with him. + +They used to go on the downs after tea, and sit on the little green +beach, while Miss Ruth and I went to church. + +Miss Ruth never would use her pony carriage on Sunday. A boy used to +draw her in a wheel-chair. She never stayed at home unless she was +compelled to do so. I never knew any one enjoy the service more, or +enter more fully into it. + +No matter how out of tune the singing might be, she always joined in +it with a fervor that quite surprised me. "Depend upon it, Esther," +she used to say, "it is not the quality of our singing that matters +but how much our heart joins with the choir. Perfect praise and +perfect music cannot be expected here; but I like to think old +Betty's cracked voice, when she joins in the hymns, is as sweet to +angels' ears as our younger notes." + +The children always waited up for us on Sunday evening, and +afterward Miss Ruth would sing with them; sometimes Mr. Lucas would +walk up and down the gravel paths listening to them, but oftener I +could catch the red light of his cigar from the cliff seat. + +I wonder what sad thoughts came to him as the voices floated out to +him, mixed up with the low ripple of waves on the sand. + +"Where loyal hearts and true"--they were singing that, I remember; +Flurry in her childish treble. And Flurry's mother, lying in her +quiet grave--did the mother in paradise, I wonder, look down from her +starry place on her little daughter singing her baby hymn, and on +that lonely man, listening from the cliff seat in the darkness? + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE. + + +The six weeks passed only too rapidly, but Dot and I were equally +delighted when Miss Ruth petitioned for a longer extension of +absence, to which dear mother returned a willing consent. + +A little note was enclosed for me in Miss Ruth's letter. + +"Make your mind quite easy, my dear child," she wrote, "we are +getting on very well, and really Jack is improving, and does all +sorts of little things to help me; she keeps her room tidier, and I +have not had to find fault with her for a week. + +"We do not see much of Carrie; she comes home looking very pale and +fagged; your uncle grumbles sometimes, but I tell him words are +wasted, the Smedley influence is stronger than ever. + +"But you need not think I am dull, though I do miss my bright, +cheery Esther, and my darling Frankie. Jack and I have nice walks, +and Uncle Geoffrey takes me sometimes on his rounds, and two or three +times Mr. Lucas has sent the carriage to take us into the country; he +says the horses need exercise, now his sister is away, but I know it +is all his kindness and thought for us. I will willingly spare you a +little longer, and am only thankful that the darling boy is deriving +so much benefit from the sea air." + +Dear, unselfish mother, always thinking first of her children's +interest, and never of her own wishes; and yet I could read between +the lines, and knew how she missed us, especially Dot, who was her +constant companion. + +But it was really the truth that the sea air was doing Dot good. He +complained less of his back, and went faster and faster on his little +crutches; the cruel abscesses had not tried him for months, and now +it seemed to me that the thin cheeks were rounding out a little. He +looked so sunburned and rosy, that I wished mother could have seen +him. It was only the color of a faintly-tinged rose, but all the same +it was wonderful for Dot. We had had lovely weather for our holiday; +but at the beginning of September came a change. About a week after +mother's letter had arrived, heavy storms of wind and rain raged +round the coast. + +Miss Ruth and Dot were weather-bound, neither of them had strength +to brave the boisterous wind; but Flurry and I would tie down our +hats with our veils and run down the parade for a blow. It used to be +quite empty and deserted; only in the distance we could see the shiny +hat of the Preventive man, as he walked up and down with his telescope. + +I used to hold Flurry tightly by the hand, for I feared she would be +blown off her feet. Sometimes we were nearly drenched and blinded +with the salt spray. + +The sea looked so gray and sullen, with white curling waves leaping +up against the sea wall; heaps of froth lay on the parade, and even +on the green enclosure in the front of the houses. People said it was +the highest tide they had known for years. + +Once I was afraid to take Flurry out, and ran down to the beach +alone. I had to plant my feet firmly in the shingles, for I could +hardly stand against the wind. What a wild, magnificent scene it was, +a study in browns and grays, a strange colorless blending of faint +tints and uncertain shading. + +As the waves receded there was a dark margin of heaped-up seaweed +along the beach, the tide swept in masses of tangled things, the +surge broke along the shore with a voice like thunder, great foamy +waves leaped up in curling splendor and then broke to pieces in the +gray abyss. The sky was as gray as the sea; not a living thing was in +sight except a lonely seagull. I could see the gleam of the firelight +through one of the windows of the cottage. It looked so warm and +snug. The beach was high and dry round me, but a little beyond the +Brambles the tide flowed up to the low cliffs. Most people would have +shivered in such a scene of desolation, for the seagull and I had it +all to ourselves, but the tumult of the wind and waves only excited +me. I felt wild with spirits, and could have shouted in the +exuberance of my enjoyment. + +I could have danced in my glee, as the foamy snowflakes fell round +me, and my face grew stiff and wet with the briny air. The white +manes of the sea-horses arched themselves as they swept to their +destruction. How the wind whistled and raved, like a hunted thing! +"They that go down to the sea in ships, and do their business in the +deep waters," those words seemed to flash to me across the wild +tumult, and I thought of all the wonders seen by the mariners of old. + +"Oh, Esther, how can you be so adventurous?" exclaimed Miss Ruth, as +I thrust a laughing face and wet waterproof into the room; she and +the children were sitting round the fire. + +"Oh, it was delicious," I returned. "It intoxicated me like new +wine; you cannot imagine the mighty duet of the sea and wind, the +rolling sullen bass, and the shrill crescendo." + +"It must have been horrible," she replied, with a little shiver. The +wild tempestuous weather depressed her; the loud discordance of the +jarring elements seemed to fret the quiet of her spirit. + +"You are quite right," she said to me as we sat alone that evening, +"this sort of weather disturbs my tranquillity; it makes me restless +and agitates my nerves. Last night I could not sleep; images of +terror blended with my waking thoughts. I seemed to see great ships +driving before the wind, and to hear the roaring of breakers and +crashing of timbers against cruel rocks; and when I closed my eyes, +it was only to see the whitened bones of mariners lying fathoms deep +among green tangled seaweed." + +"Dear Miss Ruth, no wonder you look pale and depressed after such a +night. Would you like me to sleep with you? the wind seems to act on +me like a lullaby. I felt cradled in comfort last night." + +"You are so strong," she said, with a little sadness in her voice. +"You have no nerves, no diseased sensibilities; you do not dread the +evils you cannot see, the universe does not picture itself to you in +dim terrors." + +"Why, no," I returned, wonderingly, for such suggestions were new to +me. + +"Sleep your happy sleep, my dear," she said, tenderly, "and thank +God for your perfect health, Esther. I dozed a little myself toward +morning, before the day woke in its rage, and then I had a horrible +sort of dream, a half-waking scare, bred of my night-terrors. + +"I thought I was tossing like a dead leaf in the gale; the wind had +broken bounds, and carried me away bodily. Now I was lying along the +margin of waves, and now swept in wide circles in the air. + +"The noise was maddening. The air seemed full of shrieks and cries, +as though the universe were lost and bewailing itself, 'Lamentation +and mourning and woe,' seemed written upon the lurid sky and sea. I +thought of those poor lovers in Dante's 'Inferno,' blown like +spectral leaves before the infernal winds of hell; but I was alone in +this tumultuous torrent. + +"I felt myself sinking at last into the dim, choking surge--it was +horribly real, Esther--and then some one caught me by the hair and +drew me out, and the words came to me, 'for so He bringeth them to +the haven where they would be.'" + +"How strange!" I exclaimed in an awed tone, for Miss Ruth's face was +pale, and there was a touch of sadness in her voice. + +"It was almost a vision of one's life," she returned, slowly; "we +drift hither and thither, blown by many a gust of passion over many +an unseen danger. If we be not engulfed, it is because the Angel of +His Providence watches over us; 'drawn out of many waters,' how many +a life history can testify of that!" + +"We have our smooth days as well," I returned, cheerfully, "when the +sun shines, and there are only ripples on the waters." + +"That is in youth," she replied; "later on the storms must come, and +the wise mariner will prepare himself to meet them. We must not +always be expecting fair weather. Do you not remember the lines of my +favorite hymn: + + "'And oh, the joy upon that shore + To tell our shipwrecked voyage o'er.' + +"Really, I think one of the great pleasures in heaven will be telling +the perils we have been through, and how He has brought us home at +last." + +Miss Ruth would not let me sleep with her that night; but to my +great relief, for her pale, weary looks made me anxious, the wind +abated, and toward morning only the breaking surge was heard dashing +along the shore. + +"I have rested better," were the first words when we met, "but that +one night's hurly-burly has wrecked me a little," which meant that +she was only fit for bed. + +But she would not hear of giving up entirely, so I drew her couch to +the fire, and wrapped her up in shawls and left Dot to keep her +company, while Flurry and I went out. In spite of the lull the sea +was still very unquiet, and the receding tide gave us plenty of +amusement, and we spent a very happy morning. In the afternoon, Miss +Ruth had some errands for me to do in the town--wools to match, and +books to change at the library, after which I had to replenish our +exhausted store of note-paper. + +It was Saturday, and we had decided the pony carriage must go alone +to the station to meet Mr. Lucas. He generally arrived a little +before six, but once he had surprised us walking in with his +portmanteau, just as we were starting for our afternoon's walk. +Flurry begged hard to accompany me; but Miss Ruth thought she had +done enough, and wished her to play with Dot in the dining-room at +some nice game. I was rather sorry at Miss Ruth's decision, for I saw +Flurry was in one of her perverse moods. They occurred very seldom, +but gave me a great deal of trouble to overcome them. She could be +very naughty on such occasions, and do a vast amount of mischief. +Flurry's break-outs, as I called them, were extremely tiresome, as +Nurse Gill and I knew well. I was very disinclined to trust Dot in +her company, for her naughtiness would infect him, and even the best +of children can be troublesome sometimes. Flurry looked very sulky +when I asked her what game they meant to play, and I augured badly +from her toss of the head and brief replies. She was hugging Flossie +on the window-seat, and would not give me her attention, so I turned +to Dot and begged him to be a good boy and not to disturb Miss Ruth, +but take care of Flurry. + +Dot answered amiably, and I ran off, determining to be back as soon +as I could. I wished Nurse Gill could sit with the children and keep +them in good temper, but she was at work in Miss Ruth's room and +could not come down. + +My errands took longer than I thought; wool matching is always a +troublesome business, and the books Miss Ruth wanted were out, and I +had to select others; it was more than an hour before I set off for +home, and then I met Nurse Gill, who wanted some brass rings for the +curtains she was making, and had forgotten to ask me to get them. + +The wind was rising again, and I was surprised to find Miss Ruth in +the porch with her handkerchief tied over her head, and Dorcas +running down the garden path. + +"Have you seen them, Miss Esther?" asked the girl, anxiously. + +"Who--what do you mean?" I inquired. + +"Miss Florence and Master Dot; we have been looking for them +everywhere. I was taking a cup of tea just now to mistress, and she +asked me to go into the dining-room, as the children seemed so quiet; +but they were not there, and Betty and I have searched the house and +garden over, and we cannot find them." + +"Oh, Esther, come here," exclaimed Miss Ruth in agony, for I was +standing still straining my eyes over the beach to catch a glimpse of +them. "I am afraid I was very wrong to send you out, and Giles will +be here presently, and Dorcas says Dot's hat is missing from the peg, +and Flurry's sealskin hat and jacket." + +Dot out in this wind! I stood aghast at the idea, but the next +moment I took Miss Ruth's cold little hands in mine. + +"You must not stand here," I said firmly; "come into the drawing-room, +I will talk to you there, and you too, Dorcas. No, I have not +seen them," as Miss Ruth yielded to my strong grasp, and stood +shivering and miserable on the rug. "I came past the Preventive +station and down the parade, and they were not there." + +"Could they have followed Nurse Gill?" struck in Dorcas. + +"No, for I met her just now, and she was alone. I hardly think they +would go to the town. Dot never cared for the shops, or Flurry +either. Perhaps they might be hidden in one of the bathing machines. +Oh, Miss Ruth," with an access of anxiety in my voice, "Dot is so +weakly, and this strong wind will blow him down; it must be all +Flurry's naughtiness, for nothing would have induced him to go out +unless she made him." + +"What are we to do?" she replied, helplessly. This sudden terror had +taken away her strength, she looked so ill. I thought a moment before +I replied. + +"Let Dorcas go down to the bathing machines," I said, at last, "and +she can speak to the Preventive man; and if you do not mind being +alone, Miss Ruth, and you must promise to lie down and keep quiet, +Betty might go into the town and find Nurse Gill. I will just run +along the beach and take a look all around." + +"Yes, do," she returned. "Oh, my naughty, naughty Flurry!" almost +wringing her hands. + +"Don't frighten yourself beforehand," I said, kissing her and +speaking cheerfully, though I did feel in a state about Dot; and what +would mother and Mr. Lucas say? "I daresay Dorcas or I will bring +them back in a few minutes, and then won't they get a scolding!" + +"Oh, no; I shall be too happy to scold them," she returned, with a +faint smile, for my words put fresh heart in her, and she would +follow us into the porch and stand looking after us. + +I scrambled over the shingles as fast as I could, for the wind was +rising, and I was afraid it would soon grow dusk. Nothing was in +sight; the whole shore was empty and desolate--fearfully desolate, +even to my eyes. + +It was no use going on, I thought; they must be hiding in the +bathing machines after all. And I was actually turning round when +something gray on the beach attracted my attention, and I picked it +up. To my horror, it was one of Dot's woolen mittens that mother had +knitted for him, and which he had worn that very afternoon. + +I was on their track, after all. I was sure of it now; but when I +lifted my eyes and saw the dreary expanse of shore before me, a blank +feeling of terror took possession of me. They were not in sight! +Nothing but cloudy skies and low chalky cliffs, and the surge +breaking on the shingles. + +All at once a thought that was almost an inspiration flashed across +me--the smugglers' cave! Flurry was always talking about it; it had +taken a strong hold of her imagination, and both she and Dot had been +wild to explore it, only Miss Ruth had never encouraged the idea. She +thought caves were damp, dreary places, and not fit for delicate +children. Flurry must have tempted Dot to accompany her on this +exploring expedition. I was as convinced of the fact as though I had +overheard the children's conversation. She would coax and cajole him +until his conscience was undermined. How could he have dragged +himself so far on his crutches? for the cave was nearly half a mile +away from where I stood, and the wind was rising fearfully. And now +an icy chill of terror came over me from head to foot--the tide was +advancing! It had already covered the narrow strip of sand; in less +than an hour it would reach the cliffs, for the shore curved a little +beyond the cottage, and with the exception of the beach before the +Brambles, the sea covered the whole of the shingles. + +I shall never, to my dying day, forget that moment's agony when my +mind first grasped the truth of the deadly peril those thoughtless +babes had incurred. Without instant help, those little children must +be drowned, for the water flowed into the cave. Even now it might be +too late. All these thoughts whirled through my brain in an instant. + +Only for a moment I paused and cast one despairing glance round me. +The cottage was out of sight. Nurse Gill, and Dorcas, and Betty were +scouring the town; no time to run back for help, no hope of making +one's voice heard with the wind whistling round me. + +"Oh, my God! help me to save these children!" I cried, with a sob +that almost choked me. And then I dashed like a mad thing toward the +shore. + +My despair gave me courage, but my progress was difficult and slow. +It was impossible to keep up that pace over the heavy shingles with +the wind tearing round me and taking away my breath. + +Several times I had to stand and collect my energies, and each time +I paused I called the children's names loudly. But, alas! the wind +and the sea swallowed up the sound. + +How fast the tide seemed coming up! The booming of the breakers +sounded close behind me. I dared not look--I dared not think. I +fought and buffeted the wind, and folded my cloak round me. + +"Out of the depth I have cried unto Thee." Those were the words I +said over and over to myself. + +I had reached the cave at last, and leaned gasping and nearly faint +with terror before I began searching in its dim recesses. + +Great masses of slimy seaweed lay heaped up at the entrance; a faint +damp odor pervaded it. The sudden roar of wind and sea echoed in dull +hollowness, but here at least my voice could be heard. + +"Flurry-Dot!" I screamed. I could hear my own wild shriek dying away +through the cave. To my delight, two little voices answered: + +"Here we are Esther! Come along, we are having such a game! Flurry +is the smuggler, and I am the Preventive man, and Flossy is my dog, +and--oh, dear! what is the matter?" And Dot, who had hobbled out of a +snug, dry little corner near the entrance, looked up with frightened +eyes as I caught him and Flurry in my arms. I suppose my face +betrayed my fears, for I could not at that moment gasp out another +word. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +A LONG NIGHT. + + +"What is the matter, Essie?" cried Dot, piteously, as I held him in +that tight embrace without speaking. "We were naughty to come, yes, I +know, but you said I was to take care of Flurry, and she would come. +I did not like it, for the wind was so cold and rough, and I fell +twice on the shingles; but it is nice here, and we were having such a +famous game." + +"Esther is going to be cross and horrid because we ran away, but +father will only laugh," exclaimed Flurry, with the remains of a +frown on her face. She knew she was in the wrong and meant to brave +it out. + +Oh, the poor babes, playing their innocent games with Death waiting +for them outside! + +"Come, there is not an instant to lose," I exclaimed, catching up +Dot in my arms; he was very little and light, and I thought we could +get on faster so, and perhaps if the sea overtook us they would see +us and put out a boat from the Preventive station. "Come, come," I +repeated, snatching Flurry's hand, for she resisted a little: but +when I reached the mouth of the cave she uttered a loud cry, and +tugged fiercely at my hand to get free. + +"Oh, the sea, the dreadful sea!" she exclaimed, hiding her face; "it +is coming up! Look at the waves--we shall be drownded!" + +I could feel Dot shiver in my arms, but he did not speak, only his +little hands clung round my neck convulsively. Poor children! their +punishment had already begun. + +"We shall be drowned if you don't make haste," I returned, trying to +speak carefully, but my teeth chattered in spite of myself. "Come, +Flurry, let us run a race with the waves; take hold of my cloak, for +I want my hands free for Dot." I had dropped his crutches in the +cave; they were no use to him--he could not have moved a step in the +teeth of this wind. + +Poor Flurry began to cry bitterly, but she had confidence in my +judgment, and an instinct of obedience made her grasp my cloak, and +so we commenced our dangerous pilgrimage. I could only move slowly +with Dot; the wind was behind us, but it was terribly fierce. Flurry +fell twice, and picked herself up sobbing; the horrors of the scene +utterly broke down her courage, and she threw her arms round me +frantically and prayed me to go back. + +"The waves are nearly touching us!" she shrieked; and then Dot, +infected by her terrors, began to cry loudly too. "We shall be +drownded, all of us, and it is getting dark, and I won't go, I won't +go!" screamed the poor child trying to push me back with her feeble +force. + +Then despair took possession of me; we might have done it if Flurry +had not lost all courage; the water would not have been high enough +to drown us; we could have waded through it, and they would have seen +us from the cottage and come to our help. I would have saved them; I +knew I could; but in Flurry's frantic state it was impossible. Her +eyes dilated with terror, a convulsive trembling seized her. Must we +go back to the cave, and be drowned like rats in a hole? The idea was +horrible, and yet it went far back. Perhaps there was some corner or +ledge of rock where we might be safe; but to spend the night in such +a place! the idea made me almost as frantic as Flurry. Still, it was +our only chance, and we retraced our steps but still so slowly and +painfully that the spray of the advancing waves wetted our faces, and +beyond--ah!--I shut my eyes and struggled on, while Flurry hid her +head in the folds of my cloak. + +We gained the smugglers' cave, and then I put down Dot, and bade him +pick up his crutchers and follow me close, while I explored the cave. +It was very dark, and Flurry began to cry afresh, and would not let +go of my hand; but Dot shouldered his crutches, and walked behind us +as well as he could. + +At each instant my terror grew. It was a large winding cave, but the +heaps of seaweed everywhere, up to the very walls, proved that the +water filled the cavern. I became hysterical too. I would not stay to +be drowned there, I muttered between my chattering teeth; drowned in +the dark, and choked with all that rotten garbage! Better take the +children in either hand, and go out and meet our fate boldly. I felt +my brain turning with the horror, when all at once I caught sight of +a rough broken ledge of rock, rising gradually from the back of the +cave. Seaweed hung in parts high up, but it seemed to me in the dim +twilight there was a portion of the rock bare; if so, the sea did not +cover it--we might find a dry foothold. + +"Let go my hand a moment, Flurry," I implored; "I think I see a +little place where we may be safe. I will be back in a moment, dear." +But nothing could induce her to relax her agonized grasp of my cloak. +I had to argue the point. "The water comes all up here wherever the +seaweed, is," I explained. "You think we are safe, Flurry, but we can +be drowned where we stand; the sea fills the cave." But at this +statement Flurry only screamed the louder and clung closer. Poor +child! she was beside herself with fright. + +So I said to Dot: + +"My darling is a boy, and boys are not so frightened as girls; so +you will stay here quietly while Flurry and I climb up there, and +Flossy shall keep you company." + +"Don't be long," he implored, but he did not say another word. Dear, +brave little heart, Dot behaved like a hero that day. He then stooped +down and held Flossy, who whined to follow us. I I think the poor +animal knew our danger, for he shivered and cowered down in evident +alarm, and I could hear Dot coaxing him. + +It was very slippery and steep, and I crawled up with difficulty, +with Flurry clambering after me, and holding tightly to my dress. Dot +watched us wistfully as we went higher and higher, leaving him and +Flossy behind. The seaweed impeded us, but after a little while we +came to a bare piece of rock jutting out over the cave, with a +scooped-out corner where all of us could huddle, and it seemed to me +as though the shelf went on for a yard or two beyond it. We were +above water-mark there; we should be quite safe, and a delicious +glimmer of hope came over me. + +I had great difficulty in inducing Flurry to stay behind while I +crawled down for Dot. She was afraid to be alone in that dark place, +with the hollow booming of wind and waves echoing round her; but I +told her sternly that Dot and Flossy would be drowned and then she +let me go. + +Dot was overjoyed to welcome me back, and then I lifted him up and +bade him crawl slowly on his hands and knees, while I followed with +his crutches, and Flossy crept after us, shivering and whining for us +to take him up. As we toiled up the broken ledge it seemed to grow +darker, and we could hardly see each other's faces if we tried, only +the splash of the first entering wave warned me that the sea would +soon have been upon us. + +I was giddy and breathless by the time we reached the nook where +Flurry was, and then we crept into the corner, the children clasping +each other across me, and Flossy on my lap licking our faces +alternately. Saved from a horrible death! For a little while I could +do nothing but weep helplessly over the children and thank God for a +merciful deliverance. + +As soon as the first hysterical outburst of emotion was over, I did +my best to make the children as comfortable as I could under such +forlorn circumstances. I knew Flurry's terror of darkness, and I +could well imagine how horribly the water would foam and splash +beneath us, and I must try and prevent them from seeing it. + +I made Dot climb into my lap, for I thought the hard rock would make +his poor back ache, and I could keep him from being chilled; and then +I induced Flurry to creep under my heavy waterproof cloak--how +thankful I was I put it on!--and told her to hold Flossy in her arms, +for the little creature's soft fur would be warm and comfortable; and +then I fastened the cloak together, buttoning it until it formed a +little tent above them. Flurry curled her feet into my dress and put +her head on my shoulder, and she and Dot held each other fast across +me, and Flossy rolled himself up into a warm ball and went to sleep. +Poor little creatures! They began to forget their sorrows a little, +until Flurry suddenly recollected that it was tea-time, and her +father had arrived; and then she began crying again softly. + +"I'm so hungry," she sobbed; "aren't you Dot?" + +"Yes, but I don't mean to mind it," returned Dot, manfully. "Essie +is hungry too." And he put up his hand and stroked my neck softly. +The darling, he knew how I suffered, and would not add to my pain by +complaining. + +I heard him say to Flurry in a whisper, "It is all our fault; we +ought to be punished for running away; but Essie has done nothing +wrong. I thought God meant to drown us, as He did the disobedient +people." But this awful reminder of her small sins was too much for +Flurry. + +"I did not mean to be wicked," she wailed. "I thought it would be +such fun to play at smugglers in the cave, and Aunt Ruth and Esther +never would let me." + +"Yes, and I begged you not to run away, and you would," retorted Dot +in an admonishing tone. "I did not want come, too, because it was so +cold, and the wind blew so; but I promised Essie to take care of you, +so I went. I think you were quite as bad as the people whom God +drowned, because they would not be good and mind Noah." + +"But I don't want to be drowned," responded Flurry, tearfully. "Oh, +dear, Dot, don't say such dreadful things! I am good now, and I will +never, never disobey auntie again. Shall we say our prayers, Dot, and +ask God not to be so very angry, and then perhaps He will send some +one to take us out of this dark, dreadful place?" + +Dot approved of this idea, and they began repeating their childish +petitions together, but my mind strayed away when I tried to join them. + +Oh, how dark and desolate it was! I shivered and clasped the +children closer to me as the hollow moaning of the waves reverberated +through the cavern. Every minute the water was rising; by-and-by the +spray must wet us even in our sheltered corner. Would the children +believe me when I told them we were safe? Would not Flurry's terrors +return at the first touch of the cold spray? The darkness and the +noise and the horror were almost enough to turn her childish brain; +they were too much for my endurance. + +"Oh, heavens!" I cried to myself, "must we really spend a long, +hideous night in this place? We are safe! safe!" I repeated; but +still it was too horrible to think of wearing out the long, slow +hours in such misery. + +It was six now; the tide would not turn until three in the morning; +it had been rising for three hours now; it would not be possible to +leave the cave and make our way by the cliff for an hour after that. +Ten hours--ten long, crawling hours to pass in this cramped position! +I thought of dear mother's horror if she knew of our peril, and then +I thought of Allan, and a lump came in my throat. + +Mr. Lucas would be scouring the coast in search of us. What a night +for the agonized father to pass! And poor, fragile Miss Ruth, how +would she endure such hours of anxiety? I could have wrung my hands +and moaned aloud at the thought of their anguish, but for the +children--the poor children who were whispering their baby prayers +together; that kept me still. Perhaps they might be even now at the +mouth of the cave, seeking and calling to us. A dozen times I +imagined I could hear the splash of oars and the hoarse cries of the +sailors; but how could our feeble voices reach them in the face of +the shrieking wind? No one would think of the smugler's cave, for it +was but one of many hollowed out of the cliff. They would search for +us, but very soon they would abandon it in despair; they knew I had +gone to seek the children; most likely I had been too late, and the +rising tide had engulfed us, and swept us far out to sea. Miss Ruth +would think of her dreams and tremble, and the wretched father would +sit by her, stunned and helpless, waiting for the morning to break +and bring him proof of his despair. + +The tears ran down my cheeks as these sad thoughts passed through my +mind, and a strong inward cry for deliverance, for endurance, for +some present comfort in this awful misery, shook my frame with +convulsive shudders. Dot felt them, and clasped me tighter, and +Flurry trembled in sympathy; my paroxysm disturbed them, but my +prayer was heard, and the brief agony passed. + +I thought of Jeremiah in his dungeon, of Daniel in the lions' den, +of the three children in the fiery furnace, and the Form that was +like the Son of God walking with them in the midst of the flames; and +I knew and felt that we were as safe on that rocky shelf, with the +dark, raging waters below us, as though we were by our own bright +hearth fire at home; then my trembling ceased, and I recovered voice +to talk to the children. + +I wanted them to go to sleep; but Flurry said, in a lamentable +voice, that she was too hungry, and the sea made such a noise; so I +told them about Shadrach, Meshech, and Abednego; and after I had +finished that, all the Bible stories I could remember of wonderful +deliverance; and by-and-by we came to the storm on the Galilean lake. + +Flurry leaned heavily against me. "Oh, it is getting colder," she +gasped; "Flossy keeps my hands warm, and the cloak is thick, and yet +I can't help shivering." And I could feel Dot shiver, too. "The water +seems very near us, I wish I did not feel afraid of it Esther," she +whispered, after another minute; but I pretended not to hear her. + +"Yes, it is cold, but not so cold as those disciples must have +felt," I returned; "they were in a little open boat, Flurry, and the +water dashed right over them, and the vessel rocked dreadfully"--here +I paused--"and it was dark, for Jesus was not yet come to them." + +"I wish He would come now," whispered Dot. + +"That is what the disciples wished, and all the time they little +knew that He was on His way to them, and watching them toiling +against the wind, and that very soon the wind would cease, and they +would be safe on the shore. We do not like being in this dark cave, +do we, Flurry darling? And the sea keeps us awake; but He knows that, +and He is watching us; and by-and-by, when the morning comes, we +shall have light and go home." + +Flurry said "Yes," sleepily, for in spite of the cold and hunger she +was getting drowsy; it must have been long past her bedtime. We had +sat on our dreary perch three hours, and there were six more to wait. +I noticed that the sound of my voice tranquillized the children; so I +repeated hymns slowly and monotonously until they nodded against me +and fell into weary slumbers. "Thank God!" I murmured when I +perceived this, and I leaned back against the rock, and tried to +close my eyes; but they would keep opening and staring into the +darkness. It was not black darkness--I do not think I could have +borne that; a sort of murky half-light seemed reflected from the +water, or from somewhere, and glimmered strangely from a background +of inky blackness. + +It was bitterly cold now; my feet felt numbed, and the spray wetted +and chilled my face. I dared not move my arm from Dot, he leaned so +heavily against it, and Flurry's head was against him. She had curled +herself up like Flossy, and I had one hand free, only I could not +disentangle it from the cloak. I dared not change my cramped +position, for fear of waking them. I was too thankful for their brief +oblivion. If I could only doze for a few moments; if I could only +shut out the black waters for a minute! The tumults of my thoughts +were indescribable. My whole life seemed to pass before me; every +childish folly, every girlish error and sin, seemed to rise up before +me; conversations I had forgotten, little incidents of family life, +dull or otherwise; speeches I had made and repented, till my head +seemed whirling. It must be midnight now, I thought. If I could only +dare; but a new terror kept me wide awake. In spite of my protecting +arms, would not Dot suffer from the damp chilliness? He shivered in +his sleep, and Flurry moaned and half woke, and then slept again. I +was growing so numbed and cramped that I doubted my endurance for +much longer. Dot seemed growing heavier, and there was the weight of +Flurry and Flossy. If I could only stretch myself! And then I nearly +cried out, for a sudden flash seemed to light the cavern. One +instant, and it was gone; but that second showed a grewsome scene +--damp, black walls, with a frothing turbulous water beneath them, +and hanging arches exuding moisture. Darkness again. From whence had +that light flashed? As I asked myself the question it came again, +startling me with its sudden brilliancy; and this time it was +certainly from some aperture overhead, and a little beyond where we +sat. + +Gone again, and this time utterly; but not before I caught a glimpse +of the broad rocky shelf beyond us. The light had flashed down not a +dozen yards from where we stood; it must have been a lantern; if so, +they were still seeking us, this time on the cliffs. It was only +midnight, and there were still four weary hours to wait, and every +moment I was growing more chilled and numbed. I began to dread the +consequences to myself as well as to the children. If I could only +crawl along the shelf and explore, perhaps there might be some +opening to the cliff. I had not thought of this before, until the +light brought the idea to my mind. + +I perceived, too, that the glimmering half-light came from above, +and not from the mouth of the cave. For a moment the fear of losing +my balance and falling back into the water daunted me, and kept me +from moving; but the next minute I felt I must attempt it. I +unfastened my cloak and woke Dot softly, and then whispered to him +that I was cramped and in pain, and must move up and down the +platform; and he understood me, and crawled sleepily off my lap; then +I lifted Flurry with difficulty, for she moaned and whimpered at my +touch. + +My numbness was so great I could hardly move my limbs; but I crawled +across Flurry somehow, and saw Dot creep into my place, and covered +them with my cloak; and then I commenced to move slowly and carefully +on my hands and knees up the rocky path. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +"YOU BRAVE GIRL!" + + +They told me afterward that this was a daring feat, and fraught with +awful peril, for in that painful groping in the darkness I might have +lost my balance and fallen back into the water. + +I was conscious of this at the time; but we cannot die until our +hour is come, and in youth one's faith is more simple and trusting; +to pray is to be heard, to grasp more tightly by the mantle of His +Providence, so I committed myself to Heaven, and crept slowly along +the face of the rock. In two or three minutes I felt cold air blowing +down upon my face, and, raising myself cautiously, I found I was +standing under an aperture, large enough for me to crawl through, +which led to the downs. For one moment I breathed the fresh night air +and caught the glimmer of starlight, and then I crept back to the +children. + +Flurry was awake and weeping piteously, and Dot was trying to +comfort her in a sleepy voice; but she was quiet the moment I told +them about the hole. + +"I must leave you behind, Dot," I said, sorrowfully, "and take +Flurry first;" and the brave little fellow said: + +"All right, Essie," and held back the dog, who was whining to follow. + +I put my arm round Flurry, and made her promise not to lose hold of +the rock. The poor child was dreadfully frightened, and stopped every +now and then, crying out in horror that she was falling into the +water, but I held her fast and coaxed her to go on again; and all the +time the clammy dews of terror stood on my forehead. Never to my +dying day shall I forget those terrible moments. + +But we were mercifully preserved, and to my joy I felt the winds of +heaven blowing round us, and in another moment Flurry had crawled +through the hole in the rock, and was sitting shivering on the grass. + +"Now I must go back for Dot and Flossy," I exclaimed; but as I spoke +and tried to disengage myself from Flurry's nervous grasp, I heard a +little voice below. + +"I am here, Essie, and I have got Flossy all safe. Just stoop down +and take him, and then I shall clamber up all right." + +"Oh, my darling, how could you?" The courageous child had actually +dragged himself with the dog under one arm all along the dangerous +path, to spare me another journey. + +I could scarcely speak, but I covered his cold little face with +kisses as he tottered painfully into my arms--my precious boy, my +brave, unselfish Dot! + +"I could not bring the crutches or the cloak, Essie," he whispered. + +"Never mind them," I replied, with a catch in my voice. "You are +safe; we are all safe--that is all I can take in. I must carry you, +Dot, and Flurry shall hold my dress, and we shall soon be home." + +"Where is your hat, Essie?" he asked, putting up his hand to my +hair. It was true I was bareheaded, and yet I had never missed it. My +cloak lay below in the cavern. What a strange sight I must have +presented if any one could have seen us! My hair was blowing loosely +about my face; my dress seemed to cling round my feet. + +How awfully dark and desolate the downs looked under that dim, +starry light. Only the uncertain glimmer enabled me to keep from the +cliffs or discern the right path. The heavy booming of the sea and +the wind together drowned our voices. When it lulled I could hear +Flurry sobbing to herself in the darkness, and Flossy, whining for +company, as he followed us closely. Poor Dot was spent and weary, and +lay heavily against my shoulder. Every now and then I had to stop and +gather strength, for I felt strangely weak, and there was an odd +beating at my heart. Dot must have heard my panting breath, for he +begged me more than once to put him down and leave him, but I would +not. + +My strength was nearly gone when we reached the shelving path +leading down to the cottage, but I still dragged on. A stream of +light came full upon us as we turned the corner; it came from the +cottage. + +The door was wide open and the parlor blinds were raised, and the +ruddy gleam of lamplight and firelight streamed full on our faces. + +No one saw us as we toiled up the pebbled path; no one waited for us +in the porch. I have a faint recollection that I stood in the hall, +looking round me for a moment in a dazed fashion; that Flossy barked, +and a door burst open; there was a wave of light, and a man's voice +saying something. I felt myself swaying with Dot in my arms; but some +one must have caught us, for when I came to myself I was lying on the +couch by the drawing-room fire, and Miss Ruth was kneeling beside me +raining tears over my face. + +"And Dot!" I tried to move and could not, and fell back on my +pillow. "The children!" I gasped, and there was a sudden movement in +the room, and Mr. Lucas stood over me with his child in his arms. Was +it my fancy, or were there tears in his eyes, too? + +"They are here, Esther," he said, in a soothing voice. "Nurse is +taking care of your boy." And then he burst out, "Oh, you brave girl! +you noble girl!" in a voice of strong emotion, and turned away. + +"Hush, Giles, we must keep her quiet," admonished his sister. "We do +not know what the poor thing has been through, but she is as cold as +ice. And feel how soaking her hair is!" + +Had it rained? I suppose it had, but then the children must be wet +too! + +Miss Ruth must have noticed my anxious look, for she kissed me and +whispered: + +"Don't worry, Esther; we have fires and hot baths ready. Nurse and +the others will attend to the children; they will soon be warmed and +in bed. Let me dry your hair and rub your cold hands; and drink this, +and you will soon be able to move." + +The cordial and food they gave me revived my numb faculties, and in +a little while I was able, with assistance, to go to my room. Miss +Ruth followed me, and tenderly helped me to remove my damp things; +but I would not lie down in my warm bed until I had seen with my own +eyes that Flurry was already soundly asleep and Dot ready to follow +her example. + +"Isn't it delicious?" he whispered, drowsily, as I kissed him; and +then Miss Ruth led me back to my room, and tucked me up and sat down +beside me. + +"Now tell me all about it," she said, "and then you will be able to +sleep." For a strong excitement had succeeded the faintness, and in +spite of my aching limbs and weariness I had a sensation as though I +could fly. + +But when I told her she only shuddered and wept, and before I had +half narrated the history of those dismal hours she was down on her +knees beside the bed, kissing my hands. + +"Do let me," she sobbed, as I remonstrated. "Oh, Esther, how I love +you! How I must always love you for this!" + +"No, I am not Miss Ruth any longer; I am Ruth. I am your own friend +and sister, who would do anything to show her gratitude. You dear +girl!--you brave girl!--as Giles called you." + +This brought to my lips the question, "How had Mr. Lucas borne this +dreadful suspense?" + +"As badly as possible," she answered, drying her eyes. "Oh, Esther! +what we have all been through. Giles came in half an hour after you +left to search the shore. He was in a dreadful state, as you may +imagine. He sent down to the Preventive station at once, and there +was a boat got ready, and he went with the men. They pulled up and +down for an hour or two, but could find no trace of you." + +"We were in the cavern all the time," I murmured. + +"That was the strangest part of all," she returned. "Giles +remembered the cavern, and they went right into the mouth, and called +as loudly as they could." + +"We did not hear them; the wind was making such a noise, and it was +so dark." + +"The men gave up all hope at last, and Giles was obliged to come +back. He walked into the house looking as white as death. 'It is all +over,' he said; 'the tide has overtaken them, and that girl is +drowned with them.' And then he gave a sort of sob, and buried his +face in his hands. I turned so faint that for a little time he was +obliged to attend to me, but when I was better he got up and left the +house. It did not seem as though he could rest from the search, and +yet he had not the faintest glimmer of hope. He would have the +cottage illuminated and the door left open, and then he lighted his +lantern and walked up and down the cliffs, and every time he came +back his poor face looked whiter and more drawn. I had got hold of +his hand, and was trying to keep him from wandering out again, when +all at once we heard Flossy bark. Giles burst open the door, and then +he gave a great cry, for there you were, my poor Esther, standing +under the hall lamp, with your hair streaming over your shoulders and +Dot in your arms, and Flurry holding your dress, and you looked at us +and did not seem to see us, and Giles was just in time to catch you +as you were reeling. He had you all in his arms at once," finished +Miss Ruth, with another sob, "till I took our darling Flurry from +him, and then he laid you down and carried Dot to the fire." + +"If I could not have saved them I would have died with them; you +knew that, Miss Ruth." + +"Ruth," she corrected. "Yes, I knew that, and so did Giles. He said +once or twice, 'She is strong enough or sensible enough to save them +if it were possible, but no one can fight against fate.' Now I must +go down to him, for he is waiting to hear all about it, and you must +go to sleep, Esther, for your eyes are far too bright." + +But, greatly to her surprise and distress, I resisted this advice +and broke out into frightened sobs. The sea was in my ears, I said, +when I tried to close my eyes, and my arms felt empty without Dot and +I could not believe he was safe, though she told me so over and over +again. + +I was greatly amazed at my own want of control; but nothing could +lessen this nervous excitement until Mr. Lucas came up to the door, +and Miss Ruth went out to him in sore perplexity. + +"What am I to do, Giles? I cannot soothe her in the least." + +"Let her have the child," he returned, in his deep voice; "she will +sleep then." And he actually fetched little Dot and put him in Miss +Ruth's arms. + +"Isn't it nice, Essie?" he muttered sleepily, as he nestled against +me. + +It was strange, but the moment my arm was round him, and I felt his +soft breathing against my shoulder, my eyelids closed of their own +accord, and a sense of weariness and security came over me. + +Before many minutes were over I had fallen into a deep sleep, and +Miss Ruth was free to seek her brother and give him the information +for which he was longing. + +It was nearly five in the morning when I closed my eyes, and it was +exactly the same time on the following afternoon when I opened them. + +My first look was for Dot, but he was gone, the sun was streaming in +at the window, a bright fire burned in the grate, and Nurse Gill was +sitting knitting in the sunshine. + +She looked up with a pleasant smile on her homely face as I called +to her rather feebly. + +"How you have slept, to be sure, Miss Esther--a good twelve hours. +But I always say Nature is a safe nurse, and to be trusted. There's +Master Dot has been up and dressed these three hours and more, and +Miss Flurry too." + +"Oh, Nurse Gill, are you sure they are all right?" I asked, for it +was almost too good news to be true. + +"Master Dot is as right as possible, though he is a little palish, +and complains of his back and legs, which is only to be expected if +they do ache a bit. Miss Flurry has a cold, but we could not induce +her to lie in bed; she is sitting by the fire now on her father's +knee, and Master Dot is with them: but there, Miss Ruth said she was +to be called as soon as you woke, Miss Esther, though I did beg her +not to put herself about, and her head so terribly bad as it has been +all day." + +"Oh, nurse, don't disturb her," I pleaded, eagerly, "I am quite +well, there is nothing the matter with me. I want to get up this +moment and dress myself;" for a great longing came over me to join +the the little group downstairs. + +"Not so fast, Miss Esther," she returned, good-humoredly. "You've +had a fine sleep, to be sure, and young things will stand a mortal +amount of fatigue; but there isn't a speck of color in your face, my +poor lamb. Well, well," as I showed signs of impatience--"I won't +disturb Miss Ruth, but I will fetch you some coffee and bread-and- +butter, and we will see how you will feel then." + +Mrs. Gill was a dragon in her way, so I resigned myself to her +peremptory kindness. When she trotted off on her charitable errand, I +leaned on my elbow and looked out of the window. It was Sunday +evening, I remembered, and the quiet peacefulness of the scene was in +strangest contrast to the horrors of yesterday; the wind had lulled, +and the big curling waves ceased to look terrible in the sunlight; +the white spray tossed lightly hither and thither, and the long line +of dark seaweed showed prettily along the yellow sands. The bitter +war of winds and waves was over, and the defeated enemy had retired +with spent fury, and sunk into silence. Could it be a dream? had we +really lived through that dreadful nightmare? But at this moment +Nurse Gill interrupted the painful retrospect by placing the fragrant +coffee and brown bread-and-butter before me. + +I ate and drank eagerly, to please myself as well as her, and then I +reiterated my intention to get up. It cost me something, however, to +persevere in my resolution. My limbs trembled under me, and seemed to +refuse their support in the strangest way, and the sight of my pale +face almost frightened me, and I was grateful to Nurse Gill when she +took the brush out of my shaking hand and proceeded to manipulate the +long tangled locks. + +"You are no more fit than a baby to dress yourself, Miss Esther," +said the good old creature, in a vexed voice. "And to think of +drowning all this beautiful hair. Why, there is seaweed in it I do +declare, like a mermaid." + +"The rocks were covered with it," I returned, in a weary indifferent +voice; for Mrs. Gill's officiousness tired me, and I longed to free +myself from her kindly hands. + +When I was dressed, I crept very slowly downstairs. My courage was +oozing away fast, and I rather dreaded all the kind inquiries that +awaited me. But I need not have been afraid. + +Dot clapped his hands when he saw me, and Mr. Lucas put down Flurry +and came to meet me. + +"You ought not to have exerted yourself," he said, reproachfully, as +soon as he looked at me; and then he took hold of me and placed me in +the armchair, and Flurry brought me a footstool and sat down on it, +Dot climbed up on the arm of the chair and propped himself against +me, and Miss Ruth rose softly from her couch and came across the room +and kissed me. + +"Oh, Esther, how pale you look!" she said, anxiously. + +"She will soon have her color back again," returned Mr. Lucas, +looking at me kindly. I think he wanted to say something, but the +sight of my weakness deterred him. I could not have borne a word. The +tears were very near the surface now, so near that I could only close +my eyes and lean my head against Dot; and, seeing this, they very +wisely left me alone. I recovered myself by-and-by, and was able to +listen to the talk that went on around me. The children's tongues +were busy as usual; Flurry had gone back to her father, and she and +Dot were keeping up a brisk fire of conversation across the hearth-rug. +I could not see Mr. Lucas' face, as he had moved to a dark corner, +but Miss Ruth's couch was drawn full into the firelight, and I could +see the tears glistening on her cheek. + +"Don't talk any more about it, my darlings," she said at last. "I +feel as though I should never sleep again, and I am sure it is bad +for Esther." + +"It does not hurt me," I returned, softly. "I suppose shipwrecked +sailors like to talk over the dangers they escape; somehow everything +seems so far away and strange to-night, as though it had happened +months ago." But though I said this I could not help the nervous +thrill that seemed to pass over me now and then. + +"Shall I read to you a little?" interrupted Mr. Lucas, quietly. "The +children's talk tires your head;" and without waiting for an answer, +he commenced reading some of my favorite hymns and a lovely poem, in +a low mellow voice that was very pleasant and soothing. + +Nurse came to fetch Flurry, and then Dot went too, but Mr. Lucas did +not put down the book for a long time. I had ceased to follow the +words; the flicker of the firelight played fitfully before my eyes. +The quiet room, the shaded lamplight, the measured cadence of the +reader's voice, now rising, now falling, lulled me most pleasantly. I +must have fallen asleep at last, for Flossy woke me by pushing his +black nose into my hand; for when I sat up and rubbed my eyes Mr. +Lucas was gone, and only Miss Ruth was laughing softly as she watched +me. + +"Giles went away half an hour ago," she said amused at my perplexed +face. "He was so pleased when he looked up and found you were asleep. +I believe your pale face frightened him, but I shall tell him you +look much better now." + +"My head feels less bewildered," was my answer. + +"You are beginning to recover yourself," she returned, decidedly; +"now you must be a good child and go to bed;" and I rose at once. + +As I opened the drawing-room door, Mr. Lucas came out from his study. + +"Were you going to give me the slip?" he said, pleasantly. "I wanted +to bid you good-by, as I shall be off in the morning before you are +awake." + +"Good by," I returned, rather shyly, holding out my hand; but he +kept it a moment longer than usual. + +"Esther, you must let me thank you," he said, abruptly. "I know but +for you I must have lost my child. A man's gratitude for such a mercy +is a strong thing, and you may count me your friend as long as I live." + +"You are very good," I stammered, "but I have done nothing; and +there was Dot, you know." I am afraid I was very awkward, but I +dreaded his speaking to me so, and the repressed emotion of his face +and voice almost frightened me. + +"There, I have made you quite pale again," he said, regretfully. +"Your nerves have not recovered from the shock. Well, we will speak +of this again; good-night, my child, and sleep well," and with +another kind smile he left me. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +A LETTER FROM HOME. + + +I was so young and healthy that I soon recovered from the shock, and +in a few days I had regained strength and color. Mr. Lucas had gone +to see mother, and the day after his visit she wrote a fond +incoherent letter, full of praises of my supposed heroism. Allan, to +whom I had narrated everything fully, wrote more quietly, but the +underlying tenderness breathed in every word for Dot and me touched +me greatly. Dot had not suffered much; he was a little more lame, and +his back ached more constantly. But it was Flurry who came off worst; +her cold was on her chest, and when she threw it off she had a bad +cough, and began to grow pale and thin; she was nervous, too, and +woke every night calling out to me or Dot, and before many days were +over Miss Ruth wrote to her brother and told him that Flurry would be +better at home. + +We were waiting for his answer, when Miss Ruth brought a letter to +my bedside from mother, and sat down, as usual, to hear the contents, +for I used to read her little bits from my home correspondence, and +she wanted to know what Uncle Geoffrey thought about Flurry. My +sudden exclamation frightened her. + +"What is wrong, Esther? It is nothing about Giles?" + +"Oh, no!" I returned, the tears starting to my eyes, "but I must go +home at once; Carrie is very ill, they are afraid it is an attack of +rheumatic fever. Mother writes in such distress, and there is a +message from Uncle Geoffrey, asking me to pack up and come to them +without delay. There is something about Flurry, too; perhaps you had +better read it." + +"I will take the letter away with me. Don't hurry too much, Esther; +we will talk it over at breakfast, and there is no train now before +eleven, and nurse will help you to pack." + +That was just like Miss Ruth--no fuss, no unnecessary words, no +adding to my trouble by selfish regrets at my absence. She was like a +man in that, she never troubled herself about petty details, as most +women do, but just looked straight at the point in question. + +Her calmness reassured me, and by breakfast-time I was able to +discuss matters quietly. + +"I have sent nurse to your room, Esther," she said, as she poured +out the coffee; "the children have had their bread and milk, and have +gone out to play; it is so warm and sunny, it will not hurt Flurry. +The pony carriage will be round here at half-past ten, so you will +have plenty of time, and I mean to drive you to the station myself." + +"You think of everything," I returned, gratefully. "Have you read +the letter? Does it strike you that Carrie is so very ill?" + +"I am afraid so," she admitted, reluctantly; "your mother says she +has been ailing some time, only she would not take care of herself, +and then she got wet, and took her class in her damp things. I am +afraid you have a long spell of nursing before you; rheumatic fever +sometimes lasts a long time. Your uncle says something about a touch +of pleurisy as well." + +I pushed away my plate, for I could not eat. I am ashamed to say a +strong feeling of indignation took possession of me. + +"She would not give up," I burst out, angrily: "she would not come +here to recruit herself, although she owned she felt ill; she has +just gone on until her strength was exhausted and she was not in a +state for anything, and now all this trouble and anxiety must come on +mother, and she is not fit for it." + +"Hush, Esther; you must not feel like this," she returned, gently. +"Poor Carrie will purchase wisdom dearly; depend upon it, the +knowledge that she has brought on this illness through her own self-will +will be the sharpest pang of all. You must go home and be a +comfort to them all, as you have been our comfort," she added, +sweetly; "and, Esther, I have been thinking over things, and you must +trust Dot to me. We shall all return to the Cedars, most likely +to-morrow, and I will promise not to let him out of my sight." + +And as I regarded her dubiously, she went on still more eagerly: + +"You must let me keep him, Esther. Flurry is so poorly, and she will +fret over the loss of her little companion; and with such a serious +illness in the house, he would only be an additional care to you." +And as she seemed so much in earnest, I consented reluctantly to wait +for mother's decision; for, after all, the child would be dull and +neglected, with Jack at school, and mother and me shut up in Carrie's +sick room. So in that, as in all else, Miss Ruth was right. + +Dot cried a little when I said good-by to him; he did not like +seeing me go away, and the notion of Carrie's illness distressed him, +and Flurry cried, too, because he did, and then Miss Ruth laughed at +them both. + +"You silly children," she said, "when we are all going home to-morrow, +and you can walk over and see Esther every day, and take her flowers +and nice things for Carrie." Which view of the case cheered them +immensely, and we left them with their heads very close together, +evidently planning all sorts of surprises for Carrie and me. + +Miss Ruth talked very cheerfully up to the last moment, and then she +grew a little silent and tearful. + +"I shall miss you so, Esther, both here and at the Cedars," she said +tenderly. "I feel it may be a long time before you come to us again; +but there, I mean to see plenty of you," she went on, recovering +herself. "I shall bring Dot every day, if it be only for a few +minutes!" And so she sent me away half comforted. + +It was a dreary journey, and I was thankful when it was over; there +was no one to meet me at the station, so I took one of the huge +lumbering flies, and a sleepy old horse dragged me reluctantly up the +steep Milnthorpe streets. + +It was an odd coincidence, but as we passed the bank and I looked +out of the window half absently, Mr. Lucas came down the steps and +saw me, and motioned to the driver to stop. + +"I am very sorry to see you here," he said, gravely. "I met Dr. +Cameron just now, and he told me your mother had written to recall +you." + +"Did he say how Carrie was?" I interrupted anxiously. + +"She is no better, and in a state of great suffering; it seems she +has been imprudent, and taken a severe chill; but don't let me keep +you, if you are anxious to go on." But I detained him a moment. + +"Flurry seems better this morning," I observed; "her cough is less +hard." + +He looked relieved at that. + +"I have written for them to come home to-morrow, and to bring Dot, +too; we will take care of him for you, and make him happy among us, +and you will have enough on your hands." + +And then he drew back, and went slowly down High street, but the +encounter had cheered me; I was beginning to look on Mr. Lucas as an +old friend. + +Uncle Geoffrey was on the door-step as I drove up, and we entered +the house together. + +"This is a bad business, I am afraid," he said, in a subdued voice, +as he closed the parlor door; "it goes to one's heart to see that +pretty creature suffer. I am glad, for all our sakes, that Allan will +be here next week." And then I remembered all at once that the year +was out, and that Allan was coming home to live; but he had said so +little about it in his last letters that I was afraid of some +postponement. + +"He is really coming, then?" I exclaimed, in joyful surprise; this +was good news. + +"Yes, next Thursday; and I shall be glad of the boy's help," he +replied, gruffly; and then he sat down and told me about Carrie. + +Foolish girl, her zeal had indeed bordered upon madness. It seems +Uncle Geoffrey had taxed her with illness a fortnight ago, and she +had not denied it; she had even consented to take the remedies +prescribed her in the way of medicine, but nothing would induce her +to rest. The illness had culminated last Sunday; she had been caught +in a heavy rain, and her thin summer walking dress had been drenched, +and yet she had spent the afternoon as usual at the schools. A +shivering fit that evening had been the result. + +"She has gradually got worse and worse," continued Uncle Geoffrey; +"it is not ordinary rheumatic fever; there is certainly sciatica, and +a touch of pleurisy; the chill on her enfeebled, worn-out frame has +been deadly, and there is no knowing the mischief that may follow. I +would not have you told before this, for after a nasty accident like +yours, a person is not fit for much. Let me look at you, child. I +must own you don't stem much amiss. Now listen to me, Esther. I have +elected Deborah head-nurse, and you must work under her orders. Bless +me," catching a glimpse of a crimson disappointed face, for I +certainly felt crestfallen at this, "a chit like you cannot be +expected to know everything. Deb is a splendid nurse; she has a head +on her shoulders, that woman," with a little chuckle; "she has just +put your mother out of the room, because she says that she is no more +use than a baby, so you will have to wheedle yourself into her good +graces if you expect to nurse Carrie." + +"Why did you send for me, if you expect me to be of no use?" I +returned, with decided temper, for this remark chafed me; but he only +chuckled again. + +"Deborah sent for you, not I," he said, in an amused voice. "'Couldn't +we have Miss Esther home?' she asked; 'she has her wits about her,' +which I am afraid was a hit at somebody." + +This soothed me down a little, for my dignity was sadly affronted +that Deborah should be mistress of the sick room. I am afraid after +all that I was not different from other girls, and had not yet +outgrown what mother called the "porcupine stage" of girlhood, when +one bristles all over at every supposed slight, armed at every point +with minor prejudices, like "quills upon the fretful porcupine." + +Uncle Geoffrey bade me run along, for he was busy, so I went +upstairs swallowing discontent with every step, until I looked up and +saw mother's pale sad face watching me from a doorway, and then every +unworthy feeling vanished. + +"Oh, my darling, thank Heaven I have you again!" she murmured, +folding me in her loving arms; "my dear child, who has never given me +a moment's anxiety." And then I knew how heavily Carrie's willfulness +had weighed on that patient heart. + +She drew me half weeping into Carrie's little room, and we sat down +together hand in hand. The invalid had been moved into mother's room, +as it was large and sunny, and I could hear Deborah moving quietly as +I passed the door. + +Mother would not speak about Carrie at first; she asked after Dot, +and was full of gratitude to Miss Ruth for taking care of him; and +then the dear soul cried over me, and said she had nearly lost us +both, and that but for me her darling boy would have been drowned. +Mr. Lucas had told her so. + +"He was full of your praises, Esther," she went on, drying her eyes; +"he says he and Miss Ruth will be your fast friends through life; +that there is nothing he would not do to show his gratitude; it made +me so proud to hear it." + +"It makes me proud, too, mother; but I cannot have you talking about +me, when I am longing to hear about Carrie." + +Mother sighed and shook her head, and then it was I noticed a +tremulous movement about her head, and, oh! how gray her hair was, +almost white under her widow's cap. + +"There is not much to say," she said, despondently; "your uncle will +not tell me if she be in actual danger, but he looks graver every +day. Her sufferings are terrible; just now Deborah would not let me +remain, because I fretted so, as though a mother can help grieving +over her child's agony. It is all her own fault, Esther, and that +makes it all the harder to bear." + +I acquiesced silently, and then I told mother that I had come home +to spare her, and do all I could for Carrie--as much as Deborah would +allow. + +"You must be very prudent, then," she replied, "for Deborah is very +jealous, and yet so devoted, that one cannot find fault with her. +Perhaps she is right, and I am too weak to be of much use, but I +should like you to be with your sister as much as possible." + +I promised to be cautious, and after a little more talk with mother +I laid aside my traveling things and stole gently into the sick room. + +Deborah met me on the threshold with uplifted finger and a resolute +"Hush!" on her lips. She looked more erect and angular than ever, and +there was a stern forbidding expression on her face; but I would not +be daunted. + +I caught her by both her hands, and drew her, against her will, to +the door. + +"I want to speak to you," I whispered; and when I had her outside, I +looked straight into her eyes. "Oh, Deb," I cried, "is it not +dreadful for all of us? and I have been in such peril, too. What +should we do without you, when you know all about nursing, and +understand a sick room so well? You are everything to us, Deborah, +and we are so grateful, and now you must let me help you a little, +and spare you fatigue. I daresay there are many little things you +could find for me to do." + +I do not know about the innocence of the dove, but certainly the +wisdom of the serpent was in my speech; my humility made Deborah +throw down her arms at once. "Any little thing that I can do," I +pleaded, and her face relaxed and her hard gray eyes softened. + +"You are always ready to help a body, Miss Esther, I will say that, +and I don't deny that I am nearly ready to drop with fatigue through +not having my clothes off these three nights. The mistress is no more +help than a baby, not being able to lift, or to leave off crying." + +"And you will let me help you?" I returned, eagerly, a little too +eagerly, for she drew herself up. + +"I won't make any promises, Miss Esther," she said, rather stiffly; +"the master said I must have help, and I am willing to try what you +can do, though you are young and not used to the ways of a sick +room," finished the provoking creature; but I restrained my impatience. + +"Any little thing that I can do," I repeated, humbly; and my +forbearance had its reward, for Deborah drew aside to let me pass +into the room, only telling me, rather sharply, to say as little +possible and keep my thoughts to myself. Deborah's robust treatment +was certainly bracing, and it gave me a sort of desperate courage; +but the first shock of seeing Carrie was dreadful. + +The poor girl lay swathed in bandages, and as I entered the room her +piteous moanings almost broke my heart. Burning with fever, and +racked by pain, she could find no ease or rest. + +As I kissed her she shuddered, and her eyes looked at me with a +terrible sadness in them. + +"Oh, my poor dear, how sorry I am!" I whispered. I dared not say +more with Deborah hovering jealously in the back-ground. + +"Don't be sorry," she groaned; "I deserved it. I deserve it all." +And then she turned away her face, and her fair hair shaded it from +me. Did I hear it aright; and was it a whispered prayer for patience +that caught my ear as she turned away. + +Deborah would not let me stay long. She sent me down to have tea and +talk to mother, but she promised that I should come up again by-and-by. +I was surprised as I opened the parlor door to find Mr. Lucas talking +to Uncle Geoffrey and mother with Jack looking up at him with awe-struck +eyes. He came forward with an amused smile, as he noticed my astonished +pause. + +"You did not expect to see me here," he said, in his most friendly +manner; "but I wanted to inquire after your sister. Mrs. Cameron has +been so good as to promise me a cup of tea, so you must make it." + +That Mr. Lucas should be drinking tea at mother's table! somehow, I +could not get over my surprise. I had never seen him in our house +before, and yet in the old times both he and his wife had been +frequent visitors. Certainly he seemed quite at home. + +Mother had lighted her pretty china lamp, and Uncle Geoffrey had +thrown a log of wood on the fire, and the parlors looked bright and +cozy, and even Jack's hair was brushed and her collar for once not +awry. I suppose Mr. Lucas found it pleasant, for he stayed quite +late, and I wondered how he could keep his dinner waiting so long; +but then Uncle Geoffrey was such a clever man, and could talk so +well. I thought I should have to leave them at last, for it was +nearly the time that Deborah wanted me; but just then Mr. Lucas +looked across at me and noticed something in my face. + +"You want to be with your sister," he said, suddenly interpreting my +thoughts, "and I am reducing my cook to despair. Good-by, Mrs. +Cameron. Many thanks for a pleasant hour." And then he shook hands +with us all, and left the room with Uncle Geoffrey. + +"What an agreeable, well-bred man," observed mother. "I like him +exceedingly, and yet people call him proud and reserved." + +"He is not a bit," I returned, indignantly; and then I kissed +mother, and ran upstairs. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +"YOU WERE RIGHT, ESTHER." + + +For many, many long weeks, I might say months, my daily life was +lived in Carrie's sick room. + +What a mercy it is that we are not permitted to see the course of +events--that we take moment by moment from the Father's hand, not +knowing what lies before us! + +It was September when I had that little altercation with Deborah on +the threshold, and when she drew aside for me to pass into that +dimly-lighted sickroom; it was Christmas now, and I was there still. +Could I have foreseen those months, with their record of suffering, +their hours of changeless monotony, well might my courage have failed. +As it was, I watched the slow progression of nights and days almost +indifferently; the walls of the sickroom closed round me, shutting me +out from the actual world, and concentrating my thoughts on the +frail girl who was fighting against disease and death. + +So terrible an illness I pray to Heaven I may never see again; sad +complications producing unheard-of tortures, and bringing the +sufferer again and again to the very brink of death. + +"If I could only die: if I were only good enough to be allowed to +die!" that was the prayer she breathed; and there were times when I +could have echoed it, when I would rather have parted with her, +dearly as I loved her, than have seen her so racked with agony; but +it was not to be. The lesson was not completed. There are some who +must be taught to live, who have to take back "the turned lesson," as +one has beautifully said, and learn it more perfectly. + +If I had ever doubted her goodness in my secret soul, I could doubt +no longer, when I daily witnessed her weakness and her exceeding +patience. She bore her suffering almost without complaint, and would +often hide from us how much she had to endure. + +"'It is good to be still.' Do you remember that, Esther?" she said +once; and I knew she was quoting the words of one who had suffered. + +After the first day I had no further difficulty with Deborah; she +soon recognized my usefulness, and gave me my share of nursing +without grudging. I took my turn at the night-watching, and served my +first painful apprenticeship in sick nursing. Mother could do little +for us; she could only relieve me for a couple of hours in the +afternoon, during which Uncle Geoffrey insisted that I should have +rest and exercise. + +Allan did not come home when we expected him; he had to postpone his +intention for a couple of months. This was a sad disappointment, as +he would have helped us so much, and mother's constant anxiety that +my health should not suffer by my close confinement was a little +trying at times. I was quite well, but it was no wonder that my fresh +color faded a little, and that I grew a little quiet and subdued. The +absence of life and change must be pernicious to young people; they +want air, movement, a certain stirring of activity and bustle to keep +time with their warm natures. + +Every one was very kind to me. Uncle Geoffrey would take me on his +rounds, and often Miss Ruth and Flurry would call for me, and drive +me into the country, and they brought me books and fruit and lovely +flowers for Carrie's room; and though I never saw Mr. Lucas during +his few brief visits he never failed to send me a kind message or to +ask if there was anything he could do for us. + +Miss Ruth, or Ruth, as I always called her now, would sometimes come +up into the sickroom and sit for a few minutes. Carrie liked to see +her, and always greeted her with a smile; but when Mrs. Smedley heard +of it, and rather peremptorily demanded admittance, she turned very +pale, and calling me to her, charged me, in an agitated voice, never +to let her in. "I could not see her, I could not," she went on, +excitedly. "I like Miss Ruth; she is so gentle and quiet. But I want +no one but you and mother." + +Mother once--very injudiciously, as Uncle Geoffrey and I thought +--tried to shake this resolution of Carrie's. + +"Poor Mrs. Smedley seems so very grieved and disappointed that you +will not see her, my dear. This is the third time she has called this +week, and she has been so kind to you." + +"Oh, mother, don't make me see her!" pleaded Carrie, even her lips +turning white; and of course mother kissed her and promised that she +should not be troubled. But when she had left the room Carrie became +very much agitated. + +"She is the last I ought to see, for she helped to bring me to this; +she taught me to disobey my mother--yes, Esther, she did indeed!" as +I expostulated in a shocked manner. "She was always telling me that +my standard was not high enough--that I ought to look above even the +wisest earthly parents. She said my mother had old-fashioned notions +of duty; that things were different in her young days; that, in spite +of her goodness, she had narrow views; that it was impossible for her +even to comprehend me." + +"Dear Carrie, surely you could not have agreed with her?" I asked, +gently; but her only answer was a sigh as she sank back upon her +pillows. + +It was the evening Allan was expected, I remember. It was December +now, and for nine weeks I had been shut up in that room, with the +exception of my daily walk or drive. + +Deborah had gone back to her usual work; it was impossible to spare +her longer. But she still helped in the heaviest part of the nursing, +and came from time to time to look after us both. + +Dot had remained for six weeks at the Cedars; but mother missed him +so much that Uncle Geoffrey decided to bring him home; and how glad +and thankful I was to get my darling back! + +I saw very little of him, however, for, strange to say, Carrie did +not care for him and Jack to stay long in the room. I was not +surprised that Jack fidgeted her, for she was restless and noisy, and +her loud voice and awkward manners would jar sadly on an invalid; but +Dot was different. + +In a sick room he was as quiet as a little mouse, and he had such +nice ways. It grieved me to see Carrie shade her eyes in that pained +manner when he hobbled in softly on his crutches. + +"Carrie always cries when she sees me!" Dot said once, with a little +quiver of his lips. Alas! we neither of us understood the strange +misery that even the sight of her afflicted little brother caused her. + +Mother had gone downstairs when she had made her little protest +about Mrs. Smedley, and we were left alone together. I was resting in +the low cushioned chair Ruth had sent me in the early days of +Carrie's illness, and was watching the fire in a quiet fashion that +had become habitual to me. The room looked snug and pleasant in the +twilight; the little bed on which I slept was in the farthest corner; +a bouquet of hothouse flowers stood on the little round table, with +some books Mr. Lucas had sent up for me. It must have looked cheerful +to Carrie as she lay among the pillows; but to my dismay there were +tears on her cheeks--I could see them glistening in the firelight. + +"Do you feel less well to-night, dear?" I asked, anxiously, as I +took a seat beside her; but she shook her head. + +"I am better, much better," was her reply, "thanks to you and +Deborah and Uncle Geoffrey," but her smile was very sad as she spoke. +"How good you have been to me, Esther--how kind and patient! +Sometimes I have looked at you when you were asleep over there, and I +have cried to see how thin and weary you looked in your sleep, and +all through me." + +"Nonsense," I returned, kissing her; but my voice was not quite clear. + +"Allan will say so to-night when he sees you--you are not the same, +Esther. Your eyes are graver, and you seem to have forgotten how to +laugh, and it is all my fault." + +"Dear Carrie, I wish you would not talk so." + +"Let me talk a little to-night," she pleaded. "I feel better and +stronger, and it will be such a relief to tell you some of my +thoughts. I have been silent for nine weeks, and sometimes the +pent-up pain has been more than I could bear." + +"My poor Carrie," stroking the thin white hand on the coverlid. + +"Yes, I am that," she sighed. "Do you remember our old talks +together? Oh, how wise you were, Esther, but I would not listen to +you; you were all for present duties. I can recollect some of your +words now. You told me our work lay before us, close to us, at our +very feet, and yet I would stretch out my arms for more, till my own +burdens crushed me, and I fell beneath them." + +"You attempted too much," I returned; "your intention was good, but +you overstrained your powers." + +"You are putting it too mildly," she returned, with a great sadness +in her voice. "Esther, I have had time to think since I have lain +here, and I have been reviewing your life and mine. I wanted to see +where the fault lay, and how I had missed my path. God was taking +away my work from me; the sacrifice I offered was not acceptable." + +"Oh, my dear, hush!" But she lifted her hand feebly and laid on my +lips. + +"It was weeks before I found it out, but I think I see it clearly +now. We were both in earnest about our duty, we both wanted to do the +best we could for others; but, Esther, after all it was you who were +right; you did not turn against the work that was brought to you-- +your teaching, and house, and mother, and Dot, and even Jack--all +that came first, and you knew it; you have worked in the corner of +the vineyard that was appointed to you, and never murmured over its +barrenness and narrow space, and so you are ripe and ready for any +great work that may be waiting for you in the future. 'Faithful in +little, faithful in much'--how often have I applied those words to +you!" + +I tried to stem the torrent of retrospection, but nothing would +silence her; as she said herself, the pent up feelings must have +their course. But why did she judge herself so bitterly? It pained me +inexpressibly to hear her. + +"If I had only listened to you!" she went on; "but my spiritual +self-will blinded me. I despised my work. Oh, Esther! you cannot +contradict me; you know how bitterly I spoke of the little Thornes; +how I refused to take them into my heart; how scornfully I spoke of +my ornamental brickmaking." + +I could not gainsay her words on that point; I knew her to be wrong. + +"I wanted to choose my work; that was the fatal error. I spurned the +little duties at my feet, and looked out for some great work that I +must do. Teaching the little Thornes was hateful to me; yet I could +teach ragged children in the Sunday-school for hours. Mending Jack's +things and talking to mother were wearisome details; yet I could toil +through fog and rain in Nightingale lane, and feel no fatigue. My +work was impure, my motives tainted by self-will. Could it be +accepted by Him who was subject to His parents for thirty years, who +worked at the carpenter's bench, when He could have preached to +thousands?" And here she broke down, and wept bitterly. + +What could I answer? How could I apply comfort to one so sorely +wounded? And yet through it all who could doubt her goodness? + +"Dear Carrie," I whispered, "if this be all true, if there be no +exaggeration, no morbid conscientiousness in all you say, still you +have repented, and your punishment has been severe." + +"My punishment!" she returned, in a voice almost of despair. "Why do +you speak of it as past, when you know I shall bear the consequences +of my own imprudence all my life long? This is what is secretly +fretting me. I try to bow myself to His will; but, oh! it is so hard +not to be allowed to make amends, not to be allowed to have a chance +of doing better for the future, not to be allowed to make up for all +my deficiencies in the past; but just to suffer and be a burden." + +I looked at her with frightened eyes. What could she mean, when she +was getting better every day, and Uncle Geoffrey hoped she might be +downstairs by Christmas Day? + +"Is it possible you do not know, Esther?" she said incredulously; +but two red spots came into her thin cheeks. "Have not mother and +Uncle Geoffrey told you?" + +"They have told me nothing," I repeated. "Oh, Carrie, what do you +mean? You are not going to die?" + +"To die? Oh, no!" in a tone of unutterable regret. "Should I be so +sorry for myself if I thought that? I am getting well--well," with a +slight catching of her breath--"but when I come downstairs I shall be +like Dot." + +I do not know what I said in answer to this terrible revelation. +Uncle Geoffrey had never told me; Carrie had only extorted the truth +from him with difficulty. My darling girl a cripple! It was Carrie +who tried to comfort me as I knelt sobbing beside her. + +"Oh, Esther, how you cry! Don't, my dear, don't. It makes me still +more unhappy. Have I told you too suddenly? But you must know. That +is why I could not bear to see Dot come into the room. But I mean to +get over my foolishness." + +But I attempted no answer. "Cruel, cruel!" were the only words that +forced themselves through my teeth. + +"You shall not say that," she returned, stroking my hair. "How can +it be cruel if it be meant for my good? I have feared this all along, +Esther; the mischief has set in in one hip. It is not the suffering, +but the thought of my helplessness that frightens me." And here her +sweet eyes filled with tears. + +Oh, how selfish I was, when I ought to have been comforting her, if +only the words would come! And then a sudden thought came to me. + +"They also serve who only stand and wait," and I repeated the line +softly, and a sort of inspiration came over me. + +"Carrie," I said, embracing her, "this must be the work the loving +Saviour has now for you to do. This is the Cross He would have you +take up, and He who died to save the sinful and unthankful will give +you grace sufficient to your need." + +"Yes, I begin to think it is!" she returned; and a light came into +her eyes, and she lay back in a satisfied manner. "I never thought of +it in that way; it seemed my punishment--just taking away my work and +leaving me nothing but helplessness and emptiness." + +"And now you will look at it as still more difficult work. Oh, +Carrie, what will mine be compared to that--to see you patient under +suffering, cheerfully enduring, not murmuring or repining? What will +that be but preaching to us daily?" + +"That will do," she answered faintly; "I must think it out. You have +done more for me this afternoon than any one has." And seeing how +exhausted she was, I left her, and stole back to my place. + +She slept presently, and I sat still in the glimmering firelight, +listening to the sounds downstairs that told of Allan's arrival; but +I could not go down and show my tear-stained face. Deborah came up +presently to lay the little tea-table, and then Carrie woke up, and I +waited on her as usual, and tried to coax her failing appetite; and +by-and-by came the expected tap at the door. + +Of course it was Allan; no one but himself would come in with that +alert step and cheerful voice. + +"Well, Carrie, my dear," he said, affectionately, bending over her +as she looked up at him--whatever he felt at the sight of her changed +face he kept to himself; he kissed me without a word and took his +seat by the bedside. + +"You know, Allan?" she whispered, as he took her hand. + +"Yes, I know; Uncle Geoffrey has told me; but it may not be as bad +as you think--you have much for which to be thankful; for weeks he +never thought you would get over it. What does it matter about the +lameness, Carrie, when you have come back to us from the very jaws of +death?" and his voice trembled a little. + +"I felt badly about it until Esther talked to me," she returned. +"Esther has been such a nurse to me, Allan." + +He looked at me as she said this, and his eyes glistened. "Esther is +Esther," he replied, laconically; but I knew then how I satisfied him. + +"When we were alone together that night--for I waited downstairs to +say good-night to him, while Deborah stayed with Carrie--he suddenly +drew me toward him and looked in my face. + +"Poor child," he said, tenderly, "it is time I came home to relieve +you; you have grown a visionary, unsubstantial Esther, with large +eyes and a thin face; but somehow I never liked the look of you so +well." + +That made me smile. "Oh, Allan, how nice it is to have you with me +again!" + +"Nice! I should think so; what walks we will have, by the bye. I +mean to have Carrie downstairs before a week is over; what is the +good of you both moping upstairs? I shall alter all that." + +"She is too weak too move," I returned, dubiously. + +"But she is not too weak to be carried. You are keeping her too +quiet, and she wants rousing a little; she feeds too much on her own +thoughts, and it is bad for her; she is such a little saint, you +know," continued Allan, half jestingly, "she wants to be leavened a +little with our wickedness. + +"She is good; you would say so if you heard her." + +"Not a bit more good than some other people--Miss Ruth, for +example;" but I could see from his mischievous eyes that he was not +thinking of Ruth. How well and handsome he was looking: he had grown +broader, and there was an air of manliness about him--"my bonnie +lad," as I called him. + +I went to bed that night with greater contentment in my heart, +because Allan had come home; and even Carrie seemed cheered by the +hopeful view he had taken of her case. + +"He thinks, perhaps, that after some years I may not be quite so +helpless," she whispered, as I said good-night to her, and her face +looked composed and quiet in the fading firelight; "anyhow, I mean to +bear it as well as I can, and not give you more trouble." + +"I do not think it a trouble," was my answer as her arms released +me; and as I lay awake watching the gleaming shadows in the room, I +thought how sweet such ministry is to those we love, their very +helplessness endearing them to us. After all, this illness had drawn +us closer together, we were more now as sisters should be, united in +sympathy and growing deeper into each other's hearts. "How pleasant +it is to live in unity!" said the Psalmist; and the echo of the words +seemed to linger in my mind until I fell asleep. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +SANTA CLAUS. + + +After all Allan's sanguine prognostication was not fulfilled. The +new year had opened well upon us before Carrie joined the family +circle downstairs. + +But the sickroom was a different place now, when we had Allan's +cheery visits to enliven our long evenings. A brighter element seemed +introduced into the house. I wondered if Carrie felt as I did! if her +heart leaped up with pleasure at the sound of his merry whistle, or +the light springing footsteps that seemed everywhere! + +His vigorous will seemed to dominate over the whole household; he +would drag me out peremptorily for what he called wholesome exercise, +which meant long, scrambling walks, which sent me home with tingling +pulses and exuberant spirits, until the atmosphere of the sick room +moderated and subdued them again. + +He continued to relieve me in many ways; sometimes he would come in +upon us in his quick, alert way, and bundle me and my work-basket +downstairs, ordering me to talk to mother, while he gave Carrie a +dose of his company. Perhaps the change was good for her, for I +always fancied she looked less depressed when I saw her again. + +Our choice of reading displeased him not a little; the religious +biographies and sentimental sacred poetry that Carrie specially +affected were returned to the bookshelves by our young physician with +an unsparing hand; he actually scolded me in no measured terms for +what he called my want of sense. + +"What a goose you are, Esther," he said, in a disgusted voice; "but, +there, you women are all alike," continued the youthful autocrat. "You +pet one another's morbid fancies, and do no end of harm. Because +Carrie wants cheering, you keep her low with all these books, which +feed her gloomy ideas. What do you say? she likes it; well, many +people like what is not good for them. I tell you she is not in a fit +state for this sort of reading, and unless you will abide by my +choice of books I will get Uncle Geoffrey to forbid them altogether." + +Carrie looked ready to cry at this fierce tirade, but I am afraid I +only laughed in Allan's face; still, we had to mind him. He set me to +work, I remember, on some interesting book of travels, that carried +both of us far from Milnthorpe, and set us down in wonderful tropical +regions, where we lost ourselves and our troubles in gorgeous +descriptions. + +One evening I came up and found Allan reading the "Merchant of +Venice," to her, and actually Carrie was enjoying it. + +"He reads so well," she said, rather apologetically, as she caught +sight of my amused face; she did not like to own even to me that she +found it more interesting than listening to Henry Martyn's life. + +It charmed us both to hear the sound of her soft laugh; and Allan +went downstairs well satisfied with the result of his prescription. + +On Christmas Eve I had a great treat. Ruth wanted me to spend the +evening with her; and as she took Carrie into her confidence, she got +her way without difficulty. Carrie arranged every thing; mother was +to sit with her, and then Allan and Deborah would help her to bed. I +was to enjoy myself and have a real holiday, and not come home until +Allan fetched me. + +I had quite a holiday feeling as I put on my new cashmere dress. +Ruth had often fetched me for a drive, but I had not been inside the +Cedars for months, and the prospect of a long evening there was +delicious. + +Flurry ran out into the hall to meet me, and even Giles' grave face +relaxed into a smile as he hoped "Miss Cameron was better;" but +Flurry would hardly let me answer, she was so eager to show me the +wreaths auntie and she had made, and to whisper that she had hung out +a stocking for Santa Claus to fill, and that Santa Claus was going to +fill one for Dot too. + +"Come in, you naughty little chatterbox, and do not keep Esther in +the hall," exclaimed Ruth, from the curtained doorway; and the next +minute I had my arms round her. Oh, the dear room! how cozy it looked +after my months of absence; no other room, not even mother's pretty +drawing-room at Combe Manor, was so entirely to my taste. + +There was the little square tea-table, as usual, and the dark blue +china cups and saucers, and the wax candles in their silver sconces, +and white china lamp, and the soft glow of the ruddy firelight +playing into the dim corner. + +Ruth drew up the low rocking chair, and took off my hat and jacket, +and smoothed my hair. + +"How nice you look Esther, and what a pretty dress! Is that Allan's +present? But you are still very thin, my dear. + +"Oh, I am all right," I returned, carelessly, for what did it matter +how I looked, now Carrie was better? "Dear Ruth," I whispered, as she +still stood beside me, "I can think of nothing but the pleasure of +being with you again." + +"I hope you mean to include me in that last speech," said a voice +behind me; and there was Mr. Lucas standing laughing at us. He had +come through the curtained doorway unheard, and I rose in some little +confusion to shake hands. + +To my surprise, he echoed Miss Ruth's speech; but then he had not +seen me for three months. I had been through so much since we last met. + +"What have they been doing to you, my poor child?" Those were +actually his words, and his eyes rested on my face with quite a +grieved, pitying expression. + +"Allan told me I was rather unsubstantial-looking," I returned, +trying to speak lightly; but somehow the tears came to my eyes. "I +was so tired before he came home, but now I am getting rested." + +"I wonder at Dr. Cameron letting a child like you work so hard," he +retorted, quite abruptly. He had called me child twice, and I was +eighteen and a half, and feeling so old--so old. I fancy Ruth saw my +lip quiver, for she hastily interposed: + +"Let her sit down, Giles, and I will give her some tea. She looks as +cold as a little starved robin." + +And after that no one spoke again of my altered looks. It troubled +me for a few minutes, and then it passed out of my mind. + +After all, it could not be helped if I were a little thin and worn. +The strain of those three months had been terrible; the daily +spectacle of physical suffering before my eyes, the wakeful nights, +the long monotonous days, and then the shock of knowing that Carrie +must be a cripple, had all been too much for me. + +We talked about it presently, while Flurry sat like a mouse at my +feet, turning over the pages of a new book of fairy tales. The kind +sympathy they both showed me broke down the barrier of my girlish +reserve, and I found comfort in speaking of the dreary past. I did +not mind Mr. Lucas in the least: he showed such evident interest in +all I told them. After dinner he joined us again in the drawing-room, +instead of going as usual for a short time to his study. + +"When are you coming back to stay with us?" he asked, suddenly, as +he stirred the logs until they emitted a shower of sparks. + +"Yes," echoed his sister, "Carrie is so much better now that we +think it is high time for you to resume your duties; poor Flurry has +been neglected enough." + +My answer was simply to look at them both; the idea of renewing work +had never occurred to me; how could Carrie spare me? And yet ought I +not to do my part all the more, now she was laid by? For a moment the +sense of conflicting duties oppressed me. + +"Please do not look pale over it," observed Mr. Lucas, kindly; "but +you do not mean, I suppose, to be always chained to your sister's +couch? That will do neither of you any good." + +"Oh, no, I must work, of course," I returned, breathlessly. "Carrie +will not be able to do anything, so it is the more necessary for me, +but not yet--not until we have her downstairs." + +"Then we will give you three weeks' grace," observed Mr. Lucas, +coolly. "It is as you say, with your usual good sense, absolutely +necessary that one of you should work; and as Flurry has been without +a governess long enough, we shall expect you to resume your duties in +three weeks' time." + +I was a little perplexed by this speech, it was so dignified and +peremptory; but looking up I could see a little smile breaking out at +the corner of his mouth. Ruth too seemed amused. + +"Very well," I returned in the same voice; "I must be punctual, or I +shall expect my dismissal." + +"Of course you must be punctual," he retorted; and the subject +dropped, but I perceived he was in earnest under his jesting way. +Flurry's governess was wanted back, that was clear. + +As for me, the mere notion of resuming my daily work at the Cedars +was almost too delightful to contemplate. I had an odd idea, that +missing them all had something to do with my sober feelings. I felt +it when I went up to kiss Flurry in her little bed; the darling child +was lying awake for me. + +She made me lie down on the bed beside her, and hugged me close with +her warm arms, and her hair fell over my face like a veil, and then +prattled to me about Santa Claus and the wonderful gifts she expected. + +"Will Santa Claus bring you anything, Esther?" + +"Not much, I fear," was my amused answer. We were rather a gift-loving +family, and at Combe Manor our delight had been to load the breakfast +table on Christmas day with presents for every member of the family, +including servants; but of course now our resources were limited, +and I expected few presents; but in my spare time I had contrived +a few surprises in the shape of work. A set of embroidered baby +linen for Flurry's best doll, dainty enough for a fairy baby; a +white fleecy shawl for mother, and another for Carrie, and a chair-back +for Ruth; she was fond of pretty things, but I certainly did not look +for much in return. + +Allan had brought me that pretty dress from London, and another for +Carrie, and he had not Fortunatus' purse, poor fellow! + +"I have got a present for you," whispered Flurry, and I could +imagine how round and eager her eyes were; I think with a little +encouragement she would have told me what it was; but I assured her +that I should enjoy the surprise. + +"It won't keep you awake trying to guess, will it?" she asked, +anxiously; and when I said no, she seemed a little disappointed. + +"Dot has got one too," she observed, presently; but I knew all about +that. Dot was laboriously filling an album with his choicest works +of art. His fingers were always stained with paint or Indian ink at +meal times, and if I unexpectedly entered the room, I could see a +square-shaped book being smuggled away under the tablecloth. + +I think these sudden rushes were rather against the general finish +of the pictures, causing in some places an unsightly smudge or a +blotchy appearance. In one page the Tower of Babel was disfigured by +this very injudicious haste, and the bricks and the builders were +wholly indistinguishable for a sad blotch of ochre; still, the title +page made up for all such defects: "To my dear sister, Esther, from +her affectionate little brother, Frankie." + +"Aunt Ruth has one, too," continued Flurry; but at this point I +thought it better to say good-night. As it was, I found Allan had +been waiting for me nearly half-an-hour, and pretended to growl at me +for my dawdling, though in reality he was thoroughly enjoying his +talk with Ruth. + +Carrie was awake when I entered the room; she was lying watching the +fire. She welcomed me with her sweetest smile, and though I fancied +her cheek was wet as I kissed it, her voice was very tranquil. + +"Have you had a pleasant evening, Esther?" + +"Very pleasant. Have you missed me very much, darling?" + +"I always miss you," she replied, gently; "but Allan has done his +best to make the time pass quickly. And then dear mother was so good; +she has been sitting with me ever so long; we have had such a nice +talk. Somehow I begin to feel as if I had never known what mother was +before." + +I knew Carrie wanted to tell me all about it, but I pretended I was +tired, and that it was time to be asleep. So she said no more; she +was submissive to us even in trifles now; and very soon I heard the +sound of her soft, regular breathing. + +As for me, I laid wide awake for hours; my evening had excited me. +The thought of resuming my happy duties at the Cedars pleased and +exhilarated me. How kind and thoughtful they had been for my comfort, +how warmly I had been welcomed! + +I fell to sleep at last, and dreamed that Santa Claus had brought me +a mysterious present. The wrappers were so many that Deborah woke me +before I reached the final. I remember I had quite a childish feeling +of disappointment when my pleasant dream was broken. + +What a Christmas morning that was! Outside the trees were bending +with hoar frost, a scanty whiteness lay on the lawn, and the soft +mysterious light of coming snow seemed to envelope everything. Inside +the fire burned ruddily, and Carrie lay smiling upon her pillows, +with a little parcel in her outstretched hands. I thought of my +unfinished dream, and told it to her as I unfolded the silver paper +that wrapped the little box. + +"Oh, Carrie!" I exclaimed, for there was her little amethyst cross +and beautiful filagree chain; that had been father's gift to her, the +prettiest ornament she possessed, and that had been my secret +admiration for years. + +"I want you to have it," she said, smiling, well pleased at my +astonished face. "I can never wear it again, Esther; the world and I +have parted company. I shall like to see you in it. I wish it were +twice as good; I wish it were of priceless value, for nothing is too +good for my dear little sister." + +I was very near crying over the little box, and Carrie was praising +the thickness and beauty of her shawl, when in came Dot, with his +scrap-book under his arm, and Jack, with a wonderful pen-wiper she +had concocted, with a cat and kitten she had marvelously executed in +gray cloth. + +Nor was this all. Downstairs a perfect array of parcels was grouped +round my plate. There was a book from Allan, and a beautiful little +traveling desk from Uncle Geoffrey. Mother had been searching in her +jewel case, and had produced a pearl-ring, which she presented to me +with many kisses. + +But the greatest surprise of all was still in store for me. Flurry's +gift proved to be a very pretty little photograph of herself and +Flossy, set in a velvet frame. Ruth's was an ivory prayer-book: but +beside it lay a little parcel, directed in Mr. Lucas' handwriting, +and a note inside begging me to accept a slight tribute of his +gratitude. I opened it with a trembling hand, and there was an +exquisite little watch, with a short gold chain attached to it--a +perfect little beauty, as even Allan declared it to be. + +I was only eighteen, and I suppose most girls would understand my +rapture at the sight. Until now a silver watch with a plain black +guard had been my only possession; this I presented to Jack on the +spot, and was in consequence nearly hugged to death. + +"How kind, how kind!" was all I could say; and mother seemed nearly +as pleased as I was. As for Uncle Geoffrey and Allan, they took it in +an offhand and masculine fashion. + +"Very proper, very prettily done," remarked Uncle Geoffrey, +approvingly. "You see he has reason to be grateful to you, my dear, +and Mr. Lucas is just the man to acknowledge it in the most fitting +way." + +"I always said he was a brick," was Allan's unceremonious retort. +"It is no more than he ought to have done, for your pluckiness saved +Flurry." But to their surprise I turned on them with hot cheeks. + +"I have done nothing, it is all their kindness and goodness to me: +it is far too generous. How ever shall I thank him?" And then I +snatched up my treasure, and ran upstairs to show it to Carrie; and I +do not think there was a happier girl that Christmas morning than +Esther Cameron. + +The one drawback to my pleasure was--how I was to thank Mr. Lucas? +But I was spared this embarrassment, for he and Flurry waited after +service in the porch for us, and walked down High street. + +He came to my side at once with a glimmer of fun in his grave eyes. + +"Well, Miss Esther, has Santa Claus been good to you? or has he +taken too great a liberty?" + +"Oh, Mr. Lucas," I began, in a stammering fashion, but he held up +his hand peremptorily. + +"Not a word, not a syllable, if you please; the debt is all on my +side, and you do not fancy it can be paid in such a paltry fashion. I +am glad you are not offended with me, that is all." And then he +proceeded to ask kindly after Carrie. + +His manner set me quite at my ease, and I was able to talk to him as +usual. Dot was at the window watching for our approach. He clapped +his hands delightedly at the sight of Mr. Lucas and Flurry. + +"I suppose I must come in a moment to see my little friend," he +said, in a kindly voice, and in another moment he was comfortably +seated in our parlor with Dot climbing on his knee. + +I never remember a happier Christmas till then, though, thank God, I +have known still happier ones since. True, Carrie could not join the +family gathering downstairs; but after the early dinner we all went +up to her room, and sat in a pleasant circle round the fire. + +Only Fred was missing; except the dear father who lay in the quiet +churchyard near Combe Manor; but we had bright, satisfactory letters +from him, and hoped that on the whole he was doing well. + +We talked of him a good deal, and then it was that Dot announced his +grand purpose of being an artist. + +"When I am a man," he finished, in a serious voice, "I mean to work +harder than Fred, and paint great big pictures, and perhaps some +grand nobleman will buy them of me." + +"I wonder what your first subject will be, Frankie?" asked Allan, in +a slightly amused voice. He was turning over Dot's scrap-book, and +was looking at the Tower of Babel in a puzzled way. + +"The Retreat of the Ten Thousand under Xenophon," was the perfectly +startling answer, at which Allan opened his eyes rather widely, and +Uncle Geoffrey laughed. Dot looked injured and a little cross. + +"People always laugh when I want to talk sense," he said, rather +loftily. + +"Never mind, Frankie, we won't laugh any more," returned Allan, +eager to soothe his favorite; "it is a big subject, but you have +plenty of years to work it out in, and after all the grand thing in +me is to aim high." Which speech, being slightly unintelligible, +mollified Dot's wrath. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +ALLAN AND I WALK TO ELTHAM GREEN. + + +The next great event in our family annals was Carrie's first +appearance downstairs. + +Uncle Geoffrey had long wished her to make the effort, but she had +made some excuse and put it off from day to day; but at last Allan +took it into his head to manage things after his usual arbitrary +fashion, and one afternoon he marched into the room, and, quietly +lifting Carrie in his arms, as though she were a baby, desired me to +follow with, her crutches, while he carried her downstairs. + +Carrie trembled a good deal, and turned very white, but she offered +no remonstrance; and when Allan put her down outside the parlor door, +she took her crutches from me in a patient uncomplaining way that +touched us both. + +I always said we ought to have prepared Dot, but Allan would not +hear of my telling him; but when the door opened and Carrie entered, +walking slowly and painfully, being still unused to her crutches, we +were all startled by a loud cry from Dot. + +"She is like me! Oh, poor, poor Carrie!" cried the little fellow, +with a sob; and he broke into such a fit of crying that mother was +quite upset. It was in vain we tried to soothe him; that Carrie drew +him toward her with trembling arms and kissed him, and whispered that +it was God's will, and she did not mind so very much now; he only +kept repeating, "She is like me--oh, dear--oh dear! she is like me," +in a woe-begone little voice. + +Dot was so sensitive that I feared the shock would make him ill, but +Allan came at last to the rescue. He had been called out of the room +for a moment, and came back to find a scene of dire confusion--it +took so little to upset mother, and really it was heartbreaking to +all of us to see the child's grief. + +"Hallo, sonny, what's up now?" asked Allan, in a comical voice, +lifting up Dot's tear-stained face for a nearer inspection. + +"Oh, she is like me," gasped Dot; "she has those horrid things, you +know; and it's too bad, it's too bad!" he finished, with another +choking sob. + +"Nonsense," returned Allan, with sturdy cheerfulness; "she won't use +them always, you silly boy." + +"Not always!" returned Dot, with a woe-begone, puckered-up face. + +"Of course not, you little goose--or gander, I mean; she may have to +hobble about on them for a year or two, perhaps longer; but Uncle +Geoff and I mean to set her all right again--don't we, Carrie?" +Carrie's answer was a dubious smile. She did not believe in her own +recovery; but to Dot, Allan's words were full of complete comfort. + +"Oh, I am so glad, I am so glad!" cried the unselfish little +creature. "I don't mind a bit for myself; I shouldn't be Dot without +my sticks, but it seemed so dreadful for poor Carrie." + +And then, as she kissed him, with tears in her eyes, he whispered +"that she was not to mind, for Allan would soon make her all right: +he always did." + +Carrie tried to be cheerful that evening, but it cost her a great +effort. It was hard returning to everyday life, without strength or +capacity for its duties, with no bright prospect dawning in the +future, only a long, gray horizon of present monotony and suffering. +But here the consolation of the Gospel came to her help; the severe +test of her faith proved its reality; and her submission and total +abnegation of will brought her the truest comfort in her hour of need. + +Looking back on this part of our lives, I believe Carrie needed just +this discipline; like many other earnest workers she made an idol of +her work. It cost her months of suffering before she realized that +God does not always need our work; that a chastened will is more +acceptable to Him than the labor we think so all-sufficient. Sad +lesson to poor human pride, that believes so much in its own efforts, +and yet that many a one laid by in the vigor of life and work, has to +learn so painfully. Oh, hardest of all work, to do nothing while +others toil round us, to wait and look on, knowing God's ways are not +our ways, that the patient endurance of helplessness is the duty +ordained for us! + +Carrie had to undergo another ordeal the following day, for she was +just settled on her couch when Mrs. Smedley entered unannounced. + +I had never liked Mrs. Smedley; indeed, at one time I was very near +hating her; but I could not help feeling sorry for the woman when I +saw how her face twitched and worked at the sight of her favorite. + +Carrie's altered looks must have touched her conscience. Carrie was +a little nervous, but she soon recovered herself. + +"You must not be sorry for me," she said, taking her hand, for +actually Mrs. Smedley could hardly speak; tears stood in her hard +eyes, and then she motioned to me to leave them together. + +I never knew what passed between them, but I am sure Mrs. Smedley +had been crying when I returned to the room. She rose at once, making +some excuse about the lateness of the hour--and then she did what she +never had done before--kissed me quite affectionately, and hoped they +would soon see me at the vicarage. + +"There, that is over," said Carrie, as if to herself, in a relieved +tone; but she did not seem disposed for any questioning, so I let her +close her eyes and think over the interview in silence. + +The next day was a very eventful one. I had made up my mind to speak +to mother and Carrie that morning, and announce my intention of going +back to the Cedars. I was afraid it would be rather a blow to Carrie, +and I wanted to get it over. + +In two or three days the three weeks' leave of absence would be over +--Ruth would be expecting to hear from me. The old saying, "_L'homme +propose, Dieu dispose_," was true in this case. I had little idea +that morning, when I came down to breakfast, that all my cherished +plans were to be set aside, and all through old Aunt Podgill. + +Why, I had never thought of her for years; and, as far as I can +tell, her name had not been mentioned in our family circle, except on +the occasion of dear father's death, when Uncle Geoffrey observed +that he or Fred must write to her. She was father's and Uncle +Geoffrey's aunt, on their mother's side, but she had quarreled with +them when they were mere lads, and had never spoken to them since. +Uncle Geoffrey was most in her black books, and she had not deigned +to acknowledge his letter. + +"A cantankerous old woman," I remember he had called her on that +occasion, and had made no further effort to propitiate her. + +It was rather a shock, then, to hear Aunt Podgill's name uttered in +a loud voice by Allan, as I entered the room, and my surprise +deepened into astonishment to find mother was absolutely crying over +a black-edged letter. + +"Poor Mrs. Podgill is dead," explained Uncle Geoffrey, in rather a +subdued voice, as I looked at him. + +But the news did not affect me much; I thought mother's handkerchief +need hardly be applied to her eyes on that account. + +"That is a pity, of course; but, then, none of us knew her," I +remarked, coldly. "She could not have been very nice, from your +account, Uncle Geoffrey, so I do not know why we have to be so sorry +for her death," for I was as aggrieved as possible at the sight of +mother's handkerchief. + +"Well, she was a cantankerous old woman," began Uncle Geoffrey; and +then he checked himself and added, "Heaven forgive me for speaking +against the poor old creature now she is dead." + +"Yes, indeed, I have a great respect for Aunt Podgill," put in +Allan; and I thought his voice was rather curious, and there was a +repressed mirthful gleam in his eyes, and all the time mother went on +crying. + +"Oh, my dear," she sobbed at last, "I am very foolish to be so +overcome; but if it had only come in Frank's--in your father's time, +it might--it might have saved him;" and here she broke down. + +"Ah, to be sure, poor thing!" ejaculated Uncle Geoffrey in a +sympathizing tone; "that is what is troubling her; but you must cheer +up, Dora, for, as I have always told you, Frank was never meant to be +a long-lived man." + +"What are you all talking about?" I burst out, with vexed +impatience. "What has Mrs. Podgill's death to do with father? and why +is mother crying? and what makes you all so mysterious and tiresome?" +for I was exasperated at the incongruity between mother's tears and +Allan's amused face. + +"Tell her," gasped out mother: and Uncle Geoffrey, clearing his +voice, proceeded to be spokesman, only Allan interrupted him at every +word. + +"Why, you see, child, your mother is just a little upset at +receiving some good news--" + +"Battling good news," put in Allan. + +"It is natural for her, poor thing! to think of your father; but we +tell her that if he had been alive things would have shaped +themselves differently--" + +"Of course they would," from that tiresome Allan. + +"Aunt Podgill, being a cantankerous--I mean a prejudiced--person, +would never have forgotten her grudge against your father; but as in +our last moments 'conscience makes cowards of us all,' as Shakespeare +has it"--Uncle Geoffrey always quoted Shakespeare when he was +agitated, and Allan said, "Hear, hear!" softly under his breath--"she +could not forget the natural claims of blood; and so, my dear," +clearing his throat a little more, "she has left all her little +fortune to your mother; and a pretty little penny it is, close upon +seven hundred a year, and the furniture besides." + +"Uncle Geoffrey!" now it was my turn to gasp. Jack and Dot burst out +laughing at my astonished face; only Dot squeezed my hand, and +whispered, "Isn't it splendid, Essie?" Mother looked at me tearfully. + +"It is for your sakes I am glad, that my darling girls may not have +to work. Carrie can have every comfort now; and you can stay with us, +Esther, and we need not be divided any longer." + +"Hurrah," shouted Dot, waving his spoon over his head; but I only +kissed mother without speaking; a strange, unaccountable feeling +prevented me. If we were rich--or rather if we had this independence +--I must not go on teaching Flurry; my duty was at home with mother +and Carrie. + +I could have beaten myself for my selfishness; but it was true. +Humiliating as it is to confess it, my first feeling was regret that +my happy days at the Cedars were over. + +"You do not seem pleased," observed Allan, shrewdly, as he watched me. + +"I am so profoundly astonished that I am not capable of feeling," I +returned hastily; but I blushed a little guiltily. + +"It is almost too good to believe," he returned. "I never liked the +idea of you and Carrie doing anything, and yet it could not be +helped; so now you will all be able to stay at home and enjoy +yourselves." + +Mother brightened up visibly at this. + +"That will be nice, will it not, Esther? And Dot can have his +lessons with you as usual. I was so afraid that Miss Ruth would want +you back soon, and that Carrie would be dull. How good of your Aunt +Podgill to make us all so happy! And if it were not for your father--" +and here the dear soul had recourse to her handkerchief again. + +If I was silent, no one noticed it; every one was so eager in +detailing his or her plans for the future. It was quite a relief when +the lengthy breakfast was over, and I was free to go and tell Carrie; +somehow in the general excitement no one thought of her. I reproached +myself still more for my selfishness, and called myself all manner of +hard names when I saw the glow of pleasure on her pale face. + +"Oh, Esther, how nice! How pleased dear mother must be! Now we shall +have you all to ourselves, and you need not be spending all your days +away from us." + +How strange! Carrie knew of my warm affection for Ruth and Flurry, +and yet it never occurred to her that I should miss my daily +intercourse with them. It struck me then how often our nearest and +dearest misunderstand or fail to enter into our feelings. + +The thought recurred to me more than once that morning when I sat at +my work listening to the discussion between her and mother. Carrie +seemed a different creature that day; the wonderful news had lifted +her out of herself, and she rejoiced so fully and heartily in our +good fortune that I was still more ashamed of myself, and yet I was +glad too. + +"It seems so wonderful to me, mother," Carrie was saying, in her +sweet serious way, "that just when I was laid by, and unable to keep +myself or any one else, that this provision should be made for us." + +"Yes, indeed; and then there is Dot, too, who will never be able to +work," observed mother. + +It was lucky Dot did not hear her, or we might have had a reproachful +_resume_ of his artistic intentions. + +"Dear mother, you need not be anxious any longer over the fortune of +your two cripples," returned Carrie, tenderly. "I shall not feel so +much a burthen now; and then we shall have Esther to look after us." +And they both looked at me in a pleased, affectionate way. What could +I do but put down my work and join in that innocent, loving talk? + +At our early dinner that day Allan seemed a little preoccupied and +silent, but toward the close of the meal he addressed me in his +off-hand fashion. + +"I want you to come out with me this afternoon; mother can look +after Carrie." + +"It is a half holiday; may I come too?" added Jack, coaxingly. + +"Wait till you are asked, Miss Jacky," retorted Allan good-humoredly. +"No, I don't want your ladyship's company this afternoon; I must +have Esther to myself." And though Jack grumbled and looked +discontented, he would not change his decision. + +I had made up my mind to see Ruth, and tell her all about it; but it +never entered my head to dispute Allan's will if he wanted me to walk +with him. I must give up Ruth, that was all; and I hurried to put on +my things, that I might not keep him waiting, as he possessed his +full share of masculine impatience. + +I thought that he had some plan to propose to me, but to my surprise +he only talked about the most trivial subjects--the weather, the +state of the roads, the prospects of skating. + +"Where are we going?" I asked at last, for we were passing the +Cedars, and Allan rarely walked in that direction; but perhaps he had +a patient to see. + +"Only to Eltham Green," he returned briefly. + +The answer was puzzling. Eltham Green was half a mile from the +Cedars, and there was only one house there, beside a few scattered +cottages; and I knew Uncle Geoffrey's patient, Mr. Anthony Lambert, +who lived there, had died about a month ago. + +As Allan did not seem disposed to be communicative, I let the matter +rest, and held my peace; and a few minutes quick walking brought us +to the place. + +It was a little common, very wild and tangled with gorse, and in +summer very picturesque. Some elms bordered the road, and there was a +large clear-looking pond, and flocks of geese would waddle over the +common, hissing and thrusting out their yellow bills to every passer-by. + +The cottages were pretty and rustic-looking, and had gay little +gardens in front. They belonged to Mr. Lucas; and Eltham Cottage, as +Mr. Lambert's house was called, was his property also. + +Flurry and I had always been very fond of the common, where Flossy +had often run barking round the pond, after a family of yellow +ducklings. + +"Eltham Cottage is still to let," I observed, looking up at the +board; "it is such a pretty house" + +Allan made no response to that, but bade me enter, as he wanted to +look at it. + +It was a long, two-storied cottage, with a veranda all round it, and +in summer a profusion of flowers--roses and clematis, and a splendid +passionflower--twined round the pillars and covered the porch. + +The woman who admitted us ushered us into a charming little hall, +with a painted window and a glass door opening on to the lawn. There +was a small room on one side of it, and on the other the dining room +and drawing-room. The last was a very long, pleasant room, with three +windows, all opening French fashion on to the veranda, and another +glass door leading into a pretty little conservatory. + +The garden was small, but very tastefully laid out; but there was a +southern wall, where peaches and nectarines were grown, and beehives +stood, and some pretty winding walks, which led to snug nooks, where +ferns or violets were hidden. + +"What a sweet place!" I exclaimed, admiringly, at which Allan looked +exultant; but he only bade me follow him into the upper rooms. + +These were satisfactory in every respect. Some were of sunny aspect, +and looked over the garden and some large park-like meadows; the +front ones commanded the common. + +"There is not a bad room in the house," said Allan; and then he made +me admire the linen-presses and old-fashioned cupboards, and the +bright red-tiled kitchen looking out on a laurestinus walk. + +"It is a dear house!" I exclaimed, enthusiastically, at which Allan +looked well-pleased. Then he took me by the arm, and drew me to a +little window-seat on the upper landing--a proceeding that reminded +me of the days at Combe Manor, when I sat waiting for him, and +looking down on the lilies. + +"I am glad you think so," he said, solemnly; "for I wanted to ask +your advice about an idea of mine; it came into my head this morning +when we were all talking and planning, that this house would be just +the thing for mother." + +"Allan!" I exclaimed, "you really do not mean to propose that we +should leave Uncle Geoffrey?" + +"No, of course not," with a touch of impatience, for he was always a +little hasty if people did not grasp his meaning at once, "but, you, +see, houses in Milnthorpe are scarce, and we are rather too tight a +fit at present. Besides, it is not quiet enough for Carrie: the noise +of the carts and gigs on Monday morning jars her terribly. What I +propose is, that you should all settle down here in this pretty +countrified little nook, and take Uncle Geoff and Deb with you, and +leave Martha and me to represent the Camerons in the old house in the +High street." + +"But, Allan--" I commenced, dubiously, for I did not like the idea +of leaving him behind; but he interrupted me, and put his views more +forcibly before me. + +Carrie wanted quiet and country air, and so did Dot, and the +conservatory and garden would be such a delight to mother. Uncle +Geoffrey would be dull without us, and there was a nice little room +that could be fitted up for him and Jumbles; he would drive in to his +work every morning and he--Allan--could walk out and see us on two +or three evenings in the week. + +"I must be there, of course, to look after the practice. I am afraid +I am cut out for an old bachelor, Esther, like Uncle Geoff, for I do +not feel at all dismal at the thought of having a house to myself," +finished Allan with his boyish laugh. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +TOLD IN THE SUNSET. + + +What a clever head Allan had! I always said there was more in that +boy than half a dozen Freds! To think of such a scheme coming into +his mind, and driving us all nearly wild with excitement! + +Allan's strong will bore down all opposition. Mother's feeble +remonstrances, which came from a sheer terror of change; even Uncle +Geoffrey's sturdy refusal to budge an inch out of the old house where +he had lived so long, did not weigh a straw against Allan's solid +reasoning. + +It took a vast amount of talking, though, before our young autocrat +achieved his final victory, and went off flushed and eager to settle +preliminaries with Mr. Lucas. It was all sealed, signed, and +delivered before he came back. + +The pretty cottage at Eltham was to be ours, furnished with Aunt +Podgill's good old-fashioned furniture, and in the early days of +April we were to accomplish our second flitting. + +The only remaining difficulty was about Jack; but this Uncle +Geoffrey solved for us. The gig would bring him into Milnthorpe every +morning, and he could easily drive Jack to her school, and the walk +back would be good for her. In dark, wintry weather she could return +with him, or, if occasion required it, she might be a weekly boarder. + +Mr. Lucas came back with Allan, and formally congratulated mother on +her good fortune. + +I do not know if it were my fancy, but he seemed a little grave and +constrained in his manners that evening, and scarcely addressed me at +all until the close of his visit. + +"Under the circumstances I am afraid Flurry will have to lose her +governess," he said, not looking at me, however, but at mother; and +though I opened my lips to reply, my mother answered for me. + +"Well, yes, I am afraid so. Carrie depends so much on her sister." + +"Of course, of course," he returned, hastily; and actually he never +said another word, but got up and said good-by to mother. + +But I could not let him go without a word after all his kindness to +me; so, as Allan had gone out, I followed him out into the hall, +though he tried to wave me back. + +"It is cold; I shall not open the hail door while you stand there, +Miss Esther," + +"Oh, I do not mind the cold one bit," I returned, nervously; "but I +want to speak to you a moment, Mr. Lucas. Will you give Ruth my love, +and tell her I will come and talk to her to-morrow, and--and I am so +sorry to part with Flurry." + +"You are not more sorry than she will be," he returned, but not in +his old natural manner; and then he begged me so decidedly to go back +into the warm room that I dared not venture on another word. + +It was very unsatisfactory; something must have put him out, I +thought, and I went back to mother feeling chilled and uncomfortable. +Oh, dear! how dependent we are for comfort on the words and manners +of those around us. + +I went to the Cedars the following afternoon, and had a long +comfortable talk with Ruth. She even laid aside her usual quiet +undemonstrativeness, and petted and made much of me, though she +laughed a little at what she called my solemn face. + +"Confess now, Esther, you are not a bit pleased about all this money!" + +"Oh, indeed I am," I returned, quite shocked at this. "I am so +delighted for mother and Dot and Carrie." + +"But not for yourself," she persisted. + +There was no deceiving Ruth, so I made a full confession, and +stammered out, in great confusion, that I did not like losing her and +Flurry; that it was wrong and selfish, when Carrie wanted me so; but +I knew that even at Eltham I should miss the Cedars. + +She seemed touched at that. "You are a faithful soul, Esther; you +never forget a kindness, and you cannot bear even a slight separation +from those you love. We have spoiled you, I am afraid." + +"Yes, indeed," I returned, rather sadly, "you have been far too good +to me." + +"That is a matter of opinion. Well, what am I to say to comfort you, +when you find fault with even your good luck? Will it make you any +better to know we shall all miss you dreadfully? Even Giles owned as +much; and as for Flurry, we had quite a piece of work with her." + +"Mr. Lucas never even said he was sorry," I returned, in a piqued +voice. It was true I was quite spoiled, for I even felt aggrieved +that he did not join us in the drawing-room, and yet I knew he was in +the house. + +"Oh, you do not know Giles," she answered, brightly; "he is one of +the unselfish ones, he would not have damped what he thought your +happiness for the world. You see, Esther, no one in their senses +would ever believe that you were really sorry at your stroke of good +fortune; it is only I who know you, my dear, that can understand how +that is." + +Did she understand? Did I really understand myself? Anyhow, I felt +horribly abashed while she was speaking. I felt I had been conducting +myself in an unfledged girlish fashion, and that Ruth, with her staid +common sense, was reproving me. + +I determined then and there that no more foolish expression of +regret should cross my lips; that I would keep all such nonsense to +myself; so when Flurry ran in very tearful and desponding, I took +Ruth's cue, and talked to her as cheerfully as possible, giving her +such vivid descriptions of the cottage and the garden, and the dear +little honeysuckle arbor where Dot and she could have tea, that she +speedily forgot all her regrets in delicious anticipations. + +"Yes, indeed," observed Ruth, as she benevolently contemplated us, +"I expect Flurry and I will be such constant visitors that your +mother will complain that there is no end of those tiresome Lucases. +Run along, Flurry, and see if your father means to come in and have +some tea. Tell him Esther is here." + +Flurry was a long time gone, and then she brought back a message +that her father was too busy, and she might bring him a cup there, +and that she was to give his kind regards to Miss Cameron, and that +was all. + +I went home shortly after that, and found mother and Carrie deep in +discussion about carpets and curtains. They both said I looked tired +and cold, and that Ruth had kept me too long. + +"I think I am getting jealous of Ruth," Carrie said, with a gentle +smile. + +And somehow the remark did not please me; not that Carrie really +meant it, though; but it did strike me sometimes that both mother and +she thought that Ruth rather monopolized me. + +My visits to the Cedars became very rare after this, for we were +soon engrossed with the bustle of moving. For more than six weeks I +trudged about daily between our house and Eltham Cottage. There were +carpets to be fitted, and the furniture to be adapted to each room, +and when that was done, Allan and I worked hard in the conservatory; +and here Ruth often joined us, bringing with her a rare fern or plant +from the well-stocked greenhouses at the Cedars. She used to sit and +watch us at our labors, and say sometimes how much she wished she +could help us, and sometimes she spent an hour or two with Carrie to +make up for my absence. + +I rather reveled in my hard work, and grew happier every day, and +the cottage did look so pretty when we had finished. + +Ruth was with me all the last afternoon. We lighted fires in all the +rooms, and they looked so cozy. The table in the dining-room was +spread with Aunt Podgill's best damask linen and her massive +old-fashioned silver; and Deborah was actually baking her famous +griddle cakes, to the admiration of our new help, Dorcas, before +the first fly, with mother and Carrie and Dot, drove up to the +door. I shall never forget mother's pleased look as she stood in +the little hall, and Carrie's warm kiss as I welcomed them. + +"How beautiful it all looks!" she exclaimed; "how home-like and +bright and cozy; you have managed so well, Esther!" + +"Esther always manages well," observed dear mother, proudly. The +extent to which she believed in me and my resources was astonishing. +She followed me all over the house, praising everything. I was glad +Ruth heard her, and knew that I had done my best for them all. Allan +accompanied the others, and we had quite a merry evening. + +Ruth stayed to tea. "She was really becoming one of us!" as mother +observed; and Allan took her home. We all crowded into the porch to +see them off; even Carrie, who was getting quite nimble on her +crutches. It was a warm April night; the little common was flooded +with moonlight; the spring flowers were sleeping in the white rays, +and the limes glistened like silver. Uncle Geoffrey and I walked with +them to the gate, while Ruth got into her pony carriage. + +I did not like saying good-night to Allan; it seemed so strange for +him to be going back to the old house alone; but he burst into one of +his ringing laughs when I told him so. + +"Why, I like it," he said, cheerily; "it is good fun being monarch +of all I survey. Didn't I tell you I was cut out for an old bachelor? +You must come and make tea for me sometimes, when I can't get out +here." And then, in a more serious voice, he added, "It does put one +into such good spirits to see mother and you girls safe in this +pretty nest." + +I had never been idle; but now the day never seemed long enough for +my numerous occupations, and yet they were summer days, too. + +The early rising was now an enjoyment to me. I used to work in the +garden or conservatory before breakfast, and how delicious those +hours were when the birds and I had it all to ourselves; and I hardly +know which sang the loudest, for I was very happy, very happy indeed, +without knowing why. I think this unreasoning and unreasonable +happiness is an attribute of youth. + +I had got over my foolish disappointment about the Cedars. Ruth kept +her word nobly, and she and Flurry came perpetually to the cottage. +Sometimes I spent an afternoon or evening at the Cedars, and then I +always saw Mr. Lucas, and he was most friendly and pleasant. He used +to talk of coming down one afternoon to see how I was getting on with +my fernery, but it was a long time before he kept his promise. + +The brief cloud, or whatever it was, had vanished and he was his own +genial self. Flurry had not another governess, but Ruth gave her +lessons sometimes, and on her bad days her father heard them. It was +rather desultory teaching, and I used to shake my head rather +solemnly when I heard of it; but Ruth always said that Giles wished +it to be so for the present. The child was not strong, and was +growing fast, and it would not hurt her to run wild a little. + +When breakfast was over, Dot and I worked hard; and in the afternoon +I generally read to Carrie; she was far less of an invalid now, and +used to busy herself with work for the poor while she lay on her +couch and listened. She used to get mother to help her sometimes, and +then Carrie would look so happy as she planned how this garment was +to be for old Nanny Stables, and the next for her little grandson +Jemmy. With returning strength came the old, unselfish desire to +benefit others. It put her quite into spirits one day when Mrs. +Smedley asked her to cover some books for the Sunday school. + +"How good of her to think of it; it is just work that I can do!" she +said, gratefully; and for the rest of the day she looked like the old +Carrie again. + +Allan came to see us nearly every evening. Oh, those delicious +summer evenings! how vividly even now they seem to rise before me, +though many, many happy years lie between me and them. + +Somehow it had grown a sort of habit with us to spend them on the +common. Mother loved the sweet fresh air, and would sit for hours +among the furze bushes and gorse, knitting placidly, and watching the +children at their play, or the cottagers at work in their gardens; +and Uncle Geoffrey, in his old felt hat, would sit beside her, +reading the papers. + +Allan used to tempt Carrie for a stroll over the common; and when +she was tired he and Jack and I would saunter down some of the long +country lanes, sometimes hunting for glow-worms in the hedges, +sometimes extending our walk until the moon shone over the silent +fields, and the night became sweet and dewy, and the hedgerows +glimmered strangely in the uncertain light. + +How cozy our little drawing-room always looked on our return! The +lamp would be lighted on the round table, and the warm perfume of +flowers seemed to steep the air with fragrance; sometimes the glass +door would lie open, and gray moths come circling round the light, +and outside lay the lawn, silvered with moonlight. Allan used to +leave us regretfully to go back to the old house at Milnthorpe; he +said we were such a snug party. + +When Carrie began to visit the cottages and to gather the children +round her couch on Sunday afternoons, I knew she was her old self +again. Day by day her sweet face grew calmer and happier; her eyes +lost their sad wistful expression, and a little color touched her wan +cheeks. + +Truly she often suffered much, and her lameness was a sad hindrance +in the way of her usefulness; but her hands were always busy, and on +her well days she spent hours in the cottages reading to two or three +old people, or instructing the younger ones. + +It was touching to see her so thankful for the fragments of work +that still fell to her share, content to take the humblest task, if +she only might give but "a cup of cold water to one of these little +ones;" and sometimes I thought how dearly the Good Shepherd must love +the gentle creature who was treading her painful life-path so +lovingly and patiently. + +I often wondered why Mr. Lucas never kept his promise of coming to +see us; but one evening when Jack and Allan and I returned from our +stroll we found him sitting talking to mother and Uncle Geoffrey. + +I was so surprised at his sudden appearance that I dropped some of +the flowers I held in my hand, and he laughed as he helped me to pick +them up. + +"I hope I haven't startled you," he said, as we shook hands. + +"No--that is--I never expected to see you here this evening," I +returned, rather awkwardly. + +"Take off your hat, Esther," said mother, in an odd tone; and I +thought she looked flushed and nervous, just as she does when she +wants to cry. "Mr. Lucas has promised to have supper with us, and, my +dear, he wants you to show him the conservatory and the fernery." + +It was still daylight, though the sun was setting fast; we had +returned earlier than usual, for Allan had to go back to Milnthorpe, +and he bade us goodnight hastily as I prepared to obey mother. + +Jack followed us, but mother called her back, and asked her to go to +one of the cottages and fetch Carrie home. Such a glorious sunset met +our eyes as we stepped out on the lawn; the clouds were a marvel of +rose and violet and golden splendor; the windows of the cottage were +glittering with the reflected beams, and a delicious scent of lilies +was in the air. + +Mr. Lucas seemed in one of his grave moods, for he said very little +until we reached the winding walk where the ferns were, and then---- + +I am not going to repeat what he said; such words are too sacred; +but it came upon me with the shock of a thunderbolt what he had been +telling mother, and what he was trying to make me understood, for I +was so stupid that I could not think what he meant by asking me to +the Cedars, and when he saw that, he spoke more plainly. + +"You must come back, Esther; we cannot do without you any longer," +he continued very gently, "not as Flurry's governess, but as her +mother, and as my wife." + +He was very patient with me, when he saw how the suddenness and the +wonder of it all upset me, that a man like Mr. Lucas could love me, +and be so clever and superior and good. How could such a marvelous +thing have happened? + +And mother knew it, and Uncle Geoffrey, for Mr. Lucas had taken +advantage of my absence to speak to them both, and they had given him +leave to say this to me. Well, there could be no uncertainty in my +answer. I already reverenced and venerated him above other men, and +the rest came easy, and before we returned to the house the first +strangeness and timidity had passed; I actually asked him--summoning +up all my courage, however--how it was he could think of me, a mere +girl without beauty, or cleverness, or any of the ordinary +attractions of girlhood. + +"I don't know," he answered, and I knew by his voice he was smiling; +"it has been coming on a long time; when people know you they don't +think you plain, Esther, and to me you can never be so. I first knew +what I really felt when I came out of the room that dreadful night, +and saw you standing with drenched hair and white face, with Dot in +your arms and my precious Flurry clinging to your dress; when I saw +you tottering and caught you. I vowed then that you, and none other, +should replace Flurry's dead mother;" and when he had said this I +asked no more. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +RINGING THE CHANGES. + + +When Mr. Lucas took me to mother, she kissed me and shed abundance +of tears. + +"Oh, my darling, if only your poor father could know of this," she +whispered; and when Uncle Geoffrey's turn came he seemed almost as +touched. + +"What on earth are we to do without you, child?" he grumbled, wiping +his eye-glasses. "There, go along with you. If ever a girl deserved a +good husband and got it, you are the one." + +"Yes, indeed," sighed mother; "Esther is every one's right hand." + +But Mr. Lucas sat down by her side and said something so kind and +comforting that she soon grew more cheerful, and I went up to Carrie. + +She was resting a little in the twilight, and I knelt down beside +her and hid my face on her shoulder, and now the happy tears would +find a vent. + +"Why, Esther--why, my dear, what does this mean?" she asked, +anxiously; and then, with a sudden conviction dawning on her, she +continued in an excited voice--"Mr. Lucas is here; he has been saying +something, he--he----" And then I managed somehow to stammer out the +truth. + +"I am so happy; but you will miss me so dreadfully, darling, and so +will Dot and mother." + +But Carrie took me in her arms and silenced me at once. + +"We are all happy in your happiness; you shall not shed a tear for +us--not one. Do you know how glad I am, how proud I feel that he +should think so highly of my precious sister! Where is he? Let me get +up, that I may welcome my new brother. So you and your dear Ruth will +be sisters," she said, rallying me in her gentle way, and that made +me smile and blush. + +How good Carrie was that evening! Mr. Lucas was quite touched by her +few sweet words of welcome, and mother looked quite relieved at the +sight of her bright face. + +"What message am I to take to Ruth?" he said to me, as we stood +together in the porch later on that evening. + +"Give her my dear love, and ask her to come to me," was my +half-whispered answer; and as I went to bed that night Carrie's +words rang in my ears like sweetest music--"You and Ruth will be +sisters." + +But it was Allan who was my first visitor. Directly Uncle Geoffrey +told him what had happened, he put on his broad-brimmed straw hat, +and leaving Uncle Geoffrey to attend to the patients, came striding +down to the cottage. + +He had burst open the door and caught hold of me before I could put +down Dot's lesson book. The little fellow looked up amazed at his +radiant face. + +"What a brick you are, Esther, and what a brick he is!" fairly +hugging me. "I never was so pleased at anything in my life. Hurrah +for Mr. Lucas at the Cedars!" and Allan threw up his hat and caught +it. No wonder Dot looked mystified. + +"What does he mean?" asked the poor child; "and how hot you look, +Essie." + +"Listen to me, Frankie," returned Allan, sitting down by Dot. "The +jolliest thing in the world has happened. Esther has made her +fortune; she is going to have a good husband and a rich husband, and +one we shall all like, Dot; and not only that, but she will have a +dear little daughter as well." + +Dot fairly gasped as he looked at us both, and then he asked me +rather piteously if Allan was telling him a funny story to make him +laugh. + +"Oh, no, dear Dot," I whispered, bringing my face on a level with +his, and bravely disregarding Allan's quizzical looks. "It is quite +true, darling, although it is so strange I hardly know how to believe +it myself. But one day I am going to the Cedars." + +"To live there? to leave us? Oh, Essie!" And Dot's eyes grew large +and mournful. + +"Mr. Lucas wants me, and Flurry. Oh, my darling, forgive me!" as a +big tear rolled down his cheek. "I shall always love you, Dot; you +will not lose me. Oh, dear! oh dear! what am I to say to him, Allan?" + +"You will not love me the most any longer, Essie." + +And as I took him in my arms and kissed him passionately his cheek +felt wet against mine. + +"Oh, Frankie, fie for shame!" interrupted Allan. "You have made +Esther cry, and just now, when she was so happy. I did not think you +were so selfish." + +But I would not let him go on. I knew where the pain lay. Dot was +jealous for the first time in his life, and for a long time he +refused to be comforted. + +Allan left us together by-and-by, and I took my darling on my lap +and listened to his childish exposition of grief and the recital of +grievances that were very real to him. How Flurry would always have +me, and he (Dot) would be dull and left out in the cold. How Mr. +Lucas was a very nice man; but he was so old, and he did not want him +for a brother--indeed, he did not want a brother at all. + +He had Allan and that big, stupid Fred--for Dot, for once in his +sweet life, was decidedly cross. And then he confided to me that he +loved Carrie very much, but not half so well as he loved me. He +wished Mr. Lucas had taken her instead. She was very nice and very +pretty, and all that, and why hadn't he? + +But here I thought it high time to interpose. + +"But, Dot, I should not have liked that at all. And I am so happy," +I whispered. + +"You love him--that old, old man, Essie!" in unmitigated astonishment. + +"He is not old at all," I returned, indignantly; for, in spite of +his iron-gray hair, Mr. Lucas could hardly be forty, and was still a +young-looking man. + +Dot gave a wicked little smile at that. In his present mood he +rather enjoyed vexing me. + +I got him in a better frame of mind by-and-by. I hardly knew what I +said, but I kissed him, and cried and told him how unhappy he made +me, and how pleased mother and Carrie and Jack were; and after that +he left off saying sharp things, and treated me to a series of +penitent hugs, and promised that he would not be cross with "my +little girl" Flurry; for after that day he always persisted in +calling her "my little girl." + +Dot had been a little exhausting, so I went down to the bench near +the fernery to cool myself and secure a little quiet, and there Ruth +found me. I saw her coming over the grass with outstretched hands, +and such a smile on her dear face; and though I was so shy that I +could scarcely greet her, I could feel by the way she kissed me how +glad--how very glad--she was. + +"Dear Esther! My dear new sister!" she whispered. + +"Oh, Ruth, is it true?" I returned, blushing. "Last night it seemed +real, but this morning I feel half in a dream. It will do me good to +know that you are really pleased about this." + +"Can you doubt it, dearest?" she returned, reproachfully. "Have you +not grown so deep into our hearts that we cannot tear you out if you +would? You are necessary to all of us, Esther--to Flurry and me as to +Giles----" + +But I put my hand on her lips to stop her. It was sweet, and yet it +troubled me to know what he thought of me; but Ruth would not be +stopped. + +"He came home so proud and happy last night. 'She has accepted me, +Ruth,' he said, in such a pleased voice, and then he told me what you +had said about being so young and inexperienced." + +"That was my great fear," I replied, in a low voice. + +"Your youth is a fault that will mend," she answered, quaintly. "I +wish I could remember Giles' rhapsody--'So true, so unselfish, so +womanly and devoted.' By-the-by, I have forgotten to give you his +message; he will be here this afternoon with Flurry." + +We talked more soberly after a time, and the sweet golden forenoon +wore away as we sat there looking at the cool green fronds of the +ferns before us, with mother's bees humming about the roses. There +was summer over the land and summer in my heart, and above us the +blue open sky of God's Providence enfolding us. + +I was tying up the rose in the porch, when I saw Mr. Lucas and +Flurry crossing the common. Dot, who was helping me, grew a little +solemn all at once. + +"Here is your little girl, Essie," he said very gravely. My dear +boy, how could he? + +"Oh, Esther," she panted, for she had broken away from her father at +the sight of us, "auntie has told me you are going to be my own +mamma, in place of poor mamma who died. I shall call you mammy. I was +lying awake ever so long last night, thinking which name it should +be, and I like that best." + +"You shall call me what you like, dear Flurry; but I am only Esther +now." + +"Yes, but you will be mammy soon," she returned, nodding her little +head sagely. "Mamma was such a grand lady; so big and handsome, she +was older, too--" But here Mr. Lucas interrupted us. + +Dot received him in a very dignified manner. + +"How do you do?" he said, putting out his mite of a hand, in such an +old-fashioned way. I could see Mr. Lucas' lip curl with secret +amusement, and then he took the little fellow in his arms. + +"What is the matter, Dot? You do not seem half pleased to see me +this afternoon. I suppose you are very angry with me for proposing to +take Esther away. Don't you want an old fellow like me to be your +brother?" + +Dot's face grew scarlet. Truth and politeness were sadly at +variance, but at last he effected a compromise. + +"Esther says you are not so very old, after all," he stammered. + +"Oh, Esther says that, does she?" in an amused voice. + +"Father is not old at all," interrupted Flurry, in a cross voice. + +"Never mind, so that Esther is satisfied," returned Mr. Lucas, +soothingly; "but as Flurry is going to be her little girl, you must +be my little boy, eh, Dot?" + +"I am Esther's and Allan's little boy," replied Dot, rather +ungraciously. We had spoiled our crippled darling among us, and had +only ourselves to blame for his little tempers. + +"Yes, but you must be mine too," he replied, still more gently; and +then he whispered something into his ear. I saw Dot's sulky +countenance relax, and a little smile chase away his frown, and in +another moment his arms closed round Mr. Lucas' neck; the +reconciliation was complete. + +What a happy autumn that was! But November found us strangely busy, +for we were preparing for my wedding. We were married on New Year's +Day, when the snow lay on the ground. A quiet, a very quiet wedding, +it was. I was married in my traveling dress, at Giles' expressed +wish, and we drove straight from the church door to the station, for +we were to spend the first few weeks in Devonshire. + +Dear Jessie, my old schoolmate, was my only bridesmaid; for Carrie +would not hear of fulfilling that office on her crutches. + +I have a vague idea that the church was very full and I have a misty +recollection of Dot, with very round eyes, standing near Allan; but I +can recall no more, for my thoughts were engaged by the solemn vows +we were exchanging. + +Three weeks afterward, and we were settled in the house that was to +be mine for so many happy years; but never shall I forget the +sweetness of that home-coming. + +Dear Ruth welcomed us on the threshold, and then took my hand and +Giles' and led us into the bright firelit room. Two little faces +peeped at us from the curtained recess, and these were Dot and +Flurry. I had them both in my arms at once. I would not let Giles +have Flurry at first till he threatened to take Dot. + +Oh, how happy we were. Ruth made tea for us, and I sat in my +favorite low chair. The children scrambled up on Giles' knee, and he +peeped at me between their eager faces; but I was quite content to +let them engross him; it was pleasure enough for me to watch them. + +"Why, how grand you look, Essie!" Dot said at last. "Your fingers +are twinkling with green and white stones, and your dress rustles +like old Mrs. Jameson's." + + "'And she shall walk in silk attire, + And silver have to spare,'" + +sang Giles. "Never mind Dot, Esther. Your brave attire suits you well." + +"She looks very nice," put in Ruth, softly; "but she is our dear old +Esther all the same." + +"Nonsense, auntie," exclaimed Flurry, in her sharp little voice. "She is +not Esther any longer; she is my dear new mammy." At which we all laughed. + +I was always mammy to Flurry, though my other darlings called me mother; +for before many years were over I had Dots of my own--dear little fat +Winnie, her brother Harold, and baby Geoffrey--to whom Ruth was always +"auntie," or "little auntie," as my mischievous Harold called her. + +As the years passed on there were changes at Eltham Cottage--some of them +sad and some of them pleasant, after the bitter-sweet fashions of life. + +The first great sorrow of my married life was dear mother's death. She +failed a little after Harold's birth, and, to my great grief, she never +saw my baby boy, Geoffrey. A few months before he came into the world she +sank peacefully and painlessly to rest. + +Fred came up to the funeral, and stayed with Allan; he had grown a long +beard, and looked very manly and handsome. His pictures were never +accepted by the hanging committee; and after a few years he grew tired of +his desultory work, and thankfully accepted a post Giles had procured for +him in the Colonies. After this he found his place in life, and settled +down, and when we last heard from him he was on the eve of marriage with a +Canadian girl. He sent us her photograph, and both Giles and I approved of +the open, candid face and smiling brown eyes, and thought Fred had done +well for himself. + +Allan was a long time making his choice; but at last it fell on our new +vicar's daughter, Emily Sherbourne; for, three years after our marriage, +Mr. Smedley had been attacked by sudden illness, which carried him off. + +How pleased I was when Allan told me that he and Emmie had settled it +between them. She was such a sweet girl; not pretty, but with a lovable, +gentle face, and she had such simple kindly manners, so different from the +girls of the present day, who hide their good womanly hearts under such +abrupt loud ways. Emily, or, as we always called her, Emmie, was not +clever, but she suited Allan to a nicety. She was wonderfully amiable, and +bore his little irritabilities with the most placid good humor; nothing +put her out, and she believed in him with a credulity that amused Allan +largely; but he was very proud of her, and they made the happiest couple +in the world, with the exception of Giles and me. + +Carrie lost her lameness, after all; but not until she had been up to +London and had undergone skillful treatment under the care of a very +skillful physician. I shall always remember Dot's joy when she took her +first walk without her crutches. She came down to the Cedars with Jack, +now a fine well-grown girl, and I shall never forget her sweet April face +of smiles and tears. + +"How good God has been to me, Essie," she whispered, as we sat together +under the cedar tree, while Jack ran off for her usual romp with Winnie +and Harold. "I have just had to lie quiet until I learned the lesson He +wanted me to learn years ago, and now He is making me so happy, and giving +me back my work." + +It was just so; Carrie had come out of her painful ordeal strengthened +and disciplined, and fit to teach others. No longer the weak, dreamy girl +who stretched out over-eager hands for the work God in His wise providence +withheld from her, she had emerged from her enforced retirement a bright +helpful woman, who carried about her a secret fund of joy, of which no +earthly circumstances could deprive her. + +"My sweet sister Charity," Allan called her, and the poor of Milnthorpe +had reason to bless her; for early and late she labored among them, +tending the sick and dying, working often at Allan's side among his poorer +patients. + +At home she was Uncle Geoffrey's comfort, and a most sweet companion for +him and Jack. As for Dot, he lived almost entirely at the Cedars. Giles +had grown very fond of him, and we neither of us could spare him. They say +he will always be a cripple; but what does that matter, when he spends day +after day so happily in the little room Giles has fitted up for him? + +We believe, after all, Dot will be an artist. He has taken a lifelike +portrait of my Harold that has delighted Giles, and he vows that he shall +have all the advantages he can give him; for Giles is very rich--so rich +that I almost tremble at the thought of our responsibilities; only I know +my husband is a faithful steward, and makes a good use of his talents. +Carrie is his almoner, and sometimes I work with her. There are some +almshouses which Giles is building in which I take great interest, and +where I mean to visit the old people, with Winnie trotting by my side. + +Just now Giles came in heated and tired. "What, little wife, still +scribbling?" + +"Wait a moment, dear Giles," I replied. "I have just finished." + +And so I have--the few scanty recollections of Esther Cameron's life. + + +THE END. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Esther, by Rosa Nouchette Carey + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ESTHER *** + +This file should be named sthrg10.txt or sthrg10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, sthrg11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, sthrg10a.txt + +Produced by Avinash Kothare, Tom Allen, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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