'Now, I know,' said Mary, 'why you are so careful to call Meta Miss Rivers, to all the people here.'
'I should hope so!' cried Norman indignantly.
'Why, yes, Mary,' said Margaret, 'I should hope lady-like feelings would prevent you from calling her Meta before--'
'The Andersons!' cried Ethel, laughing. 'Margaret was just going to say it. We only want Harry, to exact the forfeit! Poor dear little humming-bird! It gives one an oppression on the chest, to think of her having that great do- nothing brother on her hands all day.'
'Thank you,' said Norman, 'I shall know where I am not to look when I want a sister.'
'Ay,' said Ethel, 'when you come yawning to me to find amusement for you, you will see what I shall do!'
'Stand over me with a stick while I print A B C for Cocksmoor, I suppose,' said Norman.
'Well! why not? People are much better doing something than nothing.'
'What, you won't even let me blow bubbles!' said Norman.
'That is too intellectual, as papa makes it,' said Ethel. 'By the bye, Norman,' she added, as she had now walked with him a little apart, 'it always was a bubble of mine that you should try for the Newdigate prize. Ha!' as the colour rushed into his cheeks, 'you really have begun!'
'I could not help it, when I heard the subject given out for next year. Our old friend, Decius Mus.'
'Have you finished?'
'By no means, but it brought a world of notions into my head, such as I could not but set down. Now, Ethel, do oblige me, do write another, as we used in old times.'
'I had better not,' said Ethel, standing thoughtful. 'If I throw myself into it, I shall hate everything else, and my wits will be woolgathering. I have neither time nor poetry enough.'
'You used to write English verse.'
'I was cured of it.'
'How?'
'I wanted money for Cocksmoor, and after persuading papa, I got leave to send a ballad about a little girl and a white rose to that school magazine. I don't think papa liked it, but there were some verses that touched him, and one had seen worse. It was actually inserted, and I was in high feather, till, oh, Norman! imagine Richard getting hold of this unlucky thing, without a notion where it came from! Margaret put it before him, to see what he would say to it.'
'I am afraid it was not like a young lady's anonymous composition in a story.'
'By no means. Imagine Ritchie picking my poor metaphors to pieces, and weighing every sentimental line! And all in his dear old simplicity, because he wanted to understand it, seeing that Margaret liked it. He had not the least intention of hurting my feelings, but never was I so annihilated! I thought he was doing it on purpose, till I saw how distressed he was when he found it out; and worse than all was, his saying at the end that he supposed it was very fine, but he could not understand it.'
'Let me see it.'
'Some time or other; but let me see Decius.'
'Did you give up verses because Richard could not understand them?'
'No; because I had other fish to fry. And I have not given them up altogether. I do scrabble down things that tease me by running in my head, when I want to clear my brains, and know what I mean; but I can't do it without sitting up at night, and that stupefies me before breakfast. And as to making bubbles of them, Ritchie has cured me of that!'
'It is a pity! ' said Norman.
'Nonsense, let me see Decius. I know he is splendid.'
'I wish you would have tried, for all my best ideas are stolen from you.'
Ethel prevailed by following her brother to his room, and perching herself on the window-sill, while he read his performance from many slips of paper. The visions of those boyish days had not been forgotten, the Vesuvius scenery was much as Ethel had once described it, but with far more force and beauty; there was Decius's impassioned address to the beauteous land he was about to leave, and the remembrances of his Roman hearth, his farm, his children, whom he quitted for the pale shadows of an uncertain Elysium. There was a great hiatus in the middle, and Norman had many more authorities to consult, but the summing-up was nearly complete, and Ethel thought the last lines grand, as they spoke of the noble consul's name living for evermore, added to the examples that nerve ardent souls to devote life, and all that is precious, to the call of duty. Fame is not their object. She may crown their pale brows, but for the good of others, not their own, a beacon light to the world. Self is no object of theirs, and it is the casting self behind that wins--not always the visible earthly strife, but the combat between good and evil. They are the true victors, and, whether chronicled or forgotten, true glory rests on their heads, the sole true glory that man can attain, namely, the reflected beams that crown them as shadowy types of Him whom Decius knew not--the Prince who gave Himself for His people, and thus rendered death, for Truth's sake, the highest boon to mortal man.
'Norman, you must finish it! When will it be given in?'
'Next spring, if at all, but keep the secret, Ethel. I cannot have my father's hopes raised.'
'I'll tell you of a motto,' said Ethel. 'Do you remember Mrs. Hemans' mention of a saying of Sir Walter Scott-- 'Never let me hear that brave blood has been shed in vain. It sends a roaring voice down through all time.''
'If,' said Norman, rather ashamed of the enthusiasm which, almost approaching to the so-called 'funny state' of his younger days, had trembled in his voice, and kindled his eye--'if you won't let me put 'nascitur ridiculus mus.''
'Too obvious,' said Ethel. 'Depend upon it, every undergraduate has thought of it already.'
Ethel was always very happy over Norman's secrets, and went about smiling over Decius, and comparing her brother with such a one as poor Meta was afflicted with; wasting some superfluous pity and contempt on the weary weight that was inflicted on the Grange.
'What do you think of me?' said Margaret, one afternoon. 'I have had Mr. George Rivers here for two hours.'
'Alone! what could bring him here?'
'I told him that every one was out, but he chose to sit down, and seemed to be waiting.'
'How could you get on?'
'Oh! we asked a few questions, and brought out remarks, with great difficulty, at long intervals. He asked me if lying here was not a great nuisance, and, at last, he grew tired of twisting his moustache, and went away.'
'I trust it was a call to take leave.'
'No, he thinks he shall sell out, for the army is a great nuisance.'
'You seem to have got into his confidence.'
'Yes, he said he wanted to settle down, but living with one's father was such a nuisance.'
'By the bye,' cried Ethel, laughing, 'Margaret, it strikes me that this is a Dumbiedikes' courtship!'
'Of yourself?' said Margaret slyly.
'No, of Flora. You know, she has often met him at the Grange and other places, and she does contrive to amuse him, and make him almost animated. I should not think he found her a great nuisance.'
'Poor man! I am sorry for him!' said Margaret.
'Oh! rejection will be very good for him, and give him something to think of.'
'Flora will never let it come to that,' said Margaret. 'But not one word about it, Ethel!'
Margaret and Etheldred kept their eyes open, and sometimes imagined, sometimes laughed at themselves for their speculations, and so October began; and Ethel laughed, as she questioned whether the Grange would feel the Hussar's return to his quarters, as much as home would the departure of their scholar for Balliol.
CHAPTER VI.
So, Lady Flora, take my lay, And if you find a meaning there, Oh! whisper to your glass, and say, What wonder, if he thinks me fair.--Tennyson.
Flora and Norman were dining with one of their county acquaintance, and Dr. May had undertaken to admit them on their return. The fire shone red and bright, as it sank calmly away, and the timepiece and clock on the stairs had begun their nightly duet of ticking, the crickets chirped in the kitchen, and the doctor sat alone. His book
