Meta's company--nay, the very holiday, and going from home, were charms enough for a girl of eighteen, who had never been beyond Whitford in her life. Besides, to crown all, papa promised that, if his patients would behave well, and not want him too much, he would come up for the one great day.
Mr. and Mrs. George Rivers came to Abbotstoke to collect their party. They arrived by a railroad, whose station was nearer to Abbotstoke than to Stoneborough, therefore, instead of their visiting the High Street by the way, Dr. May, with Ethel and Mary, were invited to dine at the Grange, the first evening--a proposal, at least, as new and exciting to Mary as was the journey to Oxford to her sister.
The two girls went early, as the travellers had intended to arrive before luncheon, and, though Ethel said few words, but let Mary rattle on with a stream of conjectures and questions, her heart was full of longings for her sister, as well as of strange doubts and fears, as to the change that her new life might have made in her.
'There! there!' cried Mary. 'Yes! it is Flora! Only she has her hair done in a funny way!'
Flora and Meta were both standing on the steps before the conservatory, and Mary made but one bound before she was hugging Flora. Ethel kissed her without so much violence, and then saw that Flora was looking very well and bright, more decidedly pretty and elegant than ever, and with certainly no diminution of affection; it was warmer, though rather more patronising.
'How natural you look!' was her first exclamation, as she held Mary's hand, and drew Ethel's arm into hers. 'And how is Margaret?'
'Pretty well-but the heat makes her languid--'
'Is there any letter yet?'
'No--'
'I do not see any cause for alarm--letters are so often detained, but, of course, she will be anxious. Has she had pain in the back again?'
'Sometimes, but summer always does her good--'
'I shall see her to-morrow--and the Daisy. How do you all get on? Have you broken down yet, Ethel?'
'Oh! we do go on,' said Ethel, smiling; 'the worst thing I have done was expecting James to dress the salads with lamp-oil.'
'A Greenland salad! But don't talk of oil--I have the taste still in my mouth after the Pyrennean cookery! Oh! Ethel, you would have been wild with delight in those places!'
'Snowy mountains! Are they not like a fairy-dream to you now? You must have felt at home, as a Scotchwoman's daughter.'
'Think of the peaks in the sunrise! Oh! I wanted you in the pass of Roncevalles, to hear the echo of Roland's horn. And we saw the cleft made by Roland's sword in the rocks.'
'Oh! how delightful--and Spain too!'
'Ay, the Isle of Pheasants, where all the conferences took place.'
'Where Louis XIV. met his bride, and Francois I. sealed his treason with his empty flourish--'
'Well, don't let us fight about Francois I. now; I want to know how Tom likes Eton.'
'He gets on famously. I am so glad he is in the same house with Hector.'
'Mr. Ramsden--how is he?'
'No better; he has not done any duty for weeks. Tomkins and his set want to sell the next presentation, but papa hopes to stave that off, for there is a better set than usual in the Town Council this year.'
'Cocksmoor? And how are our friends the muses? I found a note from the secretary telling me that I am elected again. How have they behaved?'
'Pretty well,' said Ethel. 'Mrs. Ledwich has been away, so we have had few meetings, and have been pretty quiet, except for an uproar about the mistress beating that Franklin's girl--and what do you think I did, Flora? I made bold to say the woman should show her to papa, to see if she had done her any harm, and he found that it was all a fabrication from one end to the other. So it ended in the poor girl being expelled, and Mary and I have her twice a week, to see if there is any grace in her.'
'To reward her!' said Flora. 'That is always your way--'
'Why, one cannot give the poor thing quite up,' said Ethel.
'You will manage the ladies at last!' cried Flora.
'Not while Mrs. Ledwich is there!'
'I'll cope with her! But, come, I want you in my room--'
'May not I come?' said Meta. 'I must see when--'
Flora held up her hand, and, while signing invitation, gave an arch look to Meta to be silent. Ethel here bethought herself of inquiring after Mr. Rivers, and then for George.
Mr. Rivers was pretty well--George, quite well, and somewhere in the garden; and Meta said that he had such a beard that they would hardly know him; while Flora added that he was delighted with the Oxford scheme. Flora's rooms had been, already, often shown to her sisters, when Mr. Rivers had been newly furnishing them, with every luxury and ornament that taste could devise. Her dressing-room, with the large bay window, commanding a beautiful view of Stoneborough, and filled, but not crowded, with every sort of choice article, was a perfect exhibition to eyes unaccustomed to such varieties.
Mary could have been still amused by the hour, in studying the devices and ornaments on the shelves and chiffonieres; and Blanche had romanced about it to the little ones, till they were erecting it into a mythical palace.
And Flora, in her simple, well-chosen dress, looked, and moved, as if she had been born and bred in the like.
There were signs of unpacking about the room-Flora's dressing-case on the table, and some dresses lying on the sofa and ottoman.
Mary ran up to them eagerly, and exclaimed at the beautiful shot blue and white silk.
'Paris fashions?' said Ethel carelessly.
'Yes; but I don't parade my own dresses here,' said Flora.
'Whose are they then? Your commissions, Meta?'
'No!' and Meta laughed heartily.
'Your French maid's then?' said Ethel. I dare say she dresses quite as well; and the things are too really pretty and simple for an English maid's taste.'
'I am glad you like them,' said Flora maliciously. 'Now, please to be good.'
'Who are they for then?' said Ethel, beginning to be frightened.
'For a young lady, whose brother has got the Newdigate prize, and who is going to Oxford.'
'Me! Those! But I have not got four backs,' as Ethel saw Meta in fits of laughing, and Flora making affirmative signs. Mary gave a ponderous spring of ecstasy.
'Come!' said Flora, 'you may as well be quiet. Whatever you may like, I am not going to have the Newdigate prizeman shown as brother to a scarecrow. I knew what you would come to, without me to take care of you. Look at yourself in the glass.'
'I'm sure I see no harm in myself,' said Ethel, turning towards the pier-glass, and surveying herself--in a white muslin, made high, a black silk mantle, and a brown hat. She had felt very respectable when she set out, but she could not avoid a lurking conviction that, beside Flora and Meta, it had a scanty, schoolgirl effect. 'And,' she continued quaintly, 'besides, I have really got a new gown on purpose--a good useful silk, that papa chose at Whitford--just the colour of a copper tea-kettle, where it turns purple.'
'Ethel! you will kill me!' said Meta, sinking back on the sofa.
'And I suppose,' continued Flora, 'that you have sent it to Miss Broad's, without any directions, and she will trim it with flame- coloured gimp, and glass buttons; and, unless Margaret catches you, you will find yourself ready to set the Thames on fire. No, my dear tea-kettle, I take you to Oxford on my own terms, and you had better submit, without a fuss, and be thankful it is no worse. George wanted me to buy you a white brocade, with a perfect flower-garden on it, that you could have examined with a microscope. I was obliged to let him buy that lace mantle, to make up to him. Now then, Meta, the scene opens, and discovers--'
Meta opened the folding-doors into Flora's bedroom, and thence came forward Bellairs and a little brisk Frenchwoman, whom Flora had acquired at Paris. The former, who was quite used to adorning Miss Ethel against her will, looked as amused as her mistresses; and, before Ethel knew what was going on, her muslin was stripped off her back, and that instrument of torture, a half made body, was being tried upon her. She made one of her most
