from being green, with 'Garden' marked on it, it was Russia leather, and had J. B. upon it. She had peeped in and read 'Magnum Bonum' within the lid. All day the idea had haunted her, that there lay the secret, in the charge of her little thoughtless mother, who, ignorant of its true value, and deterred by uncomprehended words and weak scruples, was withholding it from the world, and depriving her own family, and what was worst of all, her daughter, of the chances of becoming illustrious.
'I am his daughter as much as hers,' thought she. 'Why should she deprive me of my inheritance?'
Certainly Janet had been told that the great arcanum could not be dealt with by a woman; but this she did not implicitly believe, and she was in consequence the more curious to discover what it really was, and whether it was reasonable to sacrifice the best years of her life to preparing for it. The supposed unfairness of her exclusion seemed to her to justify the act, and thus it was that she had stolen to the davenport when she supposed that her little sister would be asleep, and finding it impossible to attend or understand with Babie's great brown eyes lamping on her, she had carried off the book.
She had been reading it even till the morning light had surprised her, and had been able to perceive the general drift, though she had leaped over the intermediate steps. She had just sufficient comprehension of the subject for unlimited confidence that the achievement was practicable, without having knowledge enough to understand a tithe of the difficulties, though she did see that they could hardly be surmounted by a woman unassisted. However, she might see her way by the time her studies were completed, and in the meantime her mother might keep the shell while she had the essence.
However, to find the shell thus left on her hands was no slight perplexity. Should she, as eldest daughter left in charge, demand the desk, Barbara would produce her reasons for its abstraction, and for this Janet was not prepared. Unless something else was wanted from it, so as to put Babie in the wrong, Janet saw no alternative but to secure the book in her own bureau, and watch for a chance of smuggling it back.
Thus Babie escaped all interrogation, but she did not release the captive davenport, and indeed she soon forgot all about it in her absorption in Swiss letters.
CHAPTER XXIII. THE LOST TREASURE.
But solemn sound, or sober thought The Fairies cannot bear; They sing, inspired with love and joy, Like skylarks in the air. Of solid sense, or thought that's grave, You find no traces there. Young Tamlane.
When old Lady Fordham's long decay ended in death, Mrs. Evelyn would not recall her sons to the funeral, but meant to go out herself to join them, and offered to escort Mrs. Brownlow's daughters to the meeting-place. This was to be Engelberg, for Dr. Medlicott had decided that after the month at Leukerbad all his patients would be much the better for a breath of the pine-woods on the Alpine height, and undertook to see them conveyed thither in time to meet the ladies.
This proposal set Miss Ogilvie free to join her brother, who had a curacy in a seaside place where the season began just when the London season ended. Her holiday was then to begin, and Janet was to write to Mrs. Evelyn and declare herself ready to meet her in London at the time appointed.
The arrangement was not to Janet's taste. She thought herself perfectly capable of escorting the younger ones, especially as they were to take their maid, a capable person named Delrio, daughter of an Englishwoman and a German waiter, and widow of an Italian courier, who was equal to all land emergencies, and could speak any language. She belonged to the young ladies. Their mother, not liking strangers about her, had, on old nurse's death, caused Emma to learn enough of the lady's maid's art for her own needs at home, and took care of herself abroad.
Babie was enraptured to be going to Mother Carey and Armine, and Elvira was enchanted to leave the schoolroom behind her, being fully aware that she always had more notice and indulgence from outsiders than at home, or indeed from anyone who had been disappointed at her want of all real affection.
'You are just like a dragon fly,' said Babie to her; 'all brightness outside and nothing within.'
This unusually severe remark came from Babie's indignation at Elvira's rebellion against going to River Hollow to take leave. It would be a melancholy visit, for her grandfather had become nearly imbecile since he had had a paralytic stroke, in the course of the winter, and good sensible Mrs. Gould had died of fever in the previous autumn.
Elvira, who had never liked the place, now loathed it, and did not seem capable of understanding Babie's outburst.
'Not like to go and see them when they are ill and unhappy! Elfie, how can you?'
'Of course I don't! Grandpapa kisses me and makes me half sick.'
'But he is so fond of you.'
'I wish he wasn't then. Why, Babie, are you going to cry? What's the matter?'
'It is very silly,' said Babie, winking hard to get rid of her tears; 'but it does hurt me so to think of the good old gentleman caring more for you than anybody, and you not liking to go near him.'
'I can't see what it matters to you,' said Elvira; 'I wish you would go instead of me, if you are so fond of him.'
'He wouldn't care for me,' said Babie; 'I'm not his ain lassie.'
'_His_ lassie! I'm a lady,' exclaimed the senorita, with the haughty Spanish turn of the neck peculiar to herself.
'That's not what I mean by a lady,' said Babie.
'What do you mean by it?' said Elvira, with a superior air.
'One who never looks down on anybody,' said Babie, thoughtfully.
'What nonsense!' rejoined the Elf; 'as if any lady could like to hear grandpapa maunder, and Mary scold and scream at the farm people, just like the old peahen.'
'Miss Ogilvie said poor Mary was overstrained with having more to attend to than she could properly manage, and that made her shrill.'
'I know it makes her very disagreeable; and so they all are. I hate the place, and I don't see why I should go,' grumbled Elvira.
'You will when you are older, and know what proper feeling is,' said Miss Ogilvie, who had come within earshot of the last words. 'Go and put on your hat; I have ordered the pony carriage.'
'Shall I go, Miss Ogilvie?' asked Babie, as Elfie marched off sullenly, since her governess never allowed herself to be disobeyed.
'I think I had better go, my dear; Elfie may be under more restraint with me.'
'Please give old Mr. Gould and Mary and Kate my love, and I will run and ask for some fruit for you to take to them,' said Babie, her tender heart longing to make compensation.
Miss Ogilvie and her pouting companion were received by a fashionable-nay, extra fashionable--looking person, whom Mary and Kate Gould called Cousin Lisette, and the old farmer, Eliza Gould. While the old man in his chair in the sun in the hot little parlour caressed, and asked feeble repetitions of questions of his impatient granddaughter, the lady explained that she had thrown up an excellent situation as instructress in a very high family to act in the same capacity to her motherless little cousins. She professed to be enchanted to meet Miss Ogilvie, and almost patronised.
'I know what the life is, Miss Ogilvie, and how one needs companionship to keep up one's spirits. Whenever you are left alone, and would drop me a line, I should be quite delighted to come and enliven you; or whenever you would like to come over here, there's no interruption by uncle; and he, poor old gentleman, is quite-quite passe. The children I can always dismiss. Regularity is my motto, of course, but I consider that an exception in favour of my own friends does no harm, and indeed it is no more than I have a right to expect, considering the sacrifices that I have made for them. Mary, child, don't cross your ankles; you don't see your cousin do that. Kate, you go and see what makes Betsy so long in bringing the tea. I rang long ago.'
'I will go and fetch it,' said Mary, an honest, but harassed-looking girl.
'Always in haste,' said Miss Gould, with an effort at good humour, which Miss Ogilvie direfully mistrusted. 'No, Mary, you must remain to entertain your cousin. What are servants for but to wait on us? She thinks nothing can be done without her, Miss Ogilvie, and I am forced to act repression sometimes.'
'Indeed we do not wish for any tea,' said Miss Ogilvie, seeing Elvira look as black as thunder; 'we have only just dined.'
