Ethel made Miss Bracy happy by a kiss before she left her. It was a cheering belief that, whatever the future trials of her life might be, the gentle little lady would meet them with a healthier mind, more vigorous in overlooking troubles and without punctilious sensitiveness on the lookout for affronts. 'Believing all things, bearing all things, hoping all things, enduring all things,' would be to her the true secret of serenity of spirits.
Ethel might not have been blameless or consistent in her dealings in this difficult intercourse, but her kind heart, upright intention, and force of character, had influence far beyond her own perception. Indeed, she knew not that she had personal influence at all, but went on in her own straightforward humility.
CHAPTER XXIV.
'Enough of foresight sad, too much Of retrospect have I; And well for me, that I, sometimes, Can put those feelings by. There speaks the man we knew of yore, Well pleased, I hear them say; Such was he, in his lighter moods, Before our heads were gray. Buoyant he was in spirit, quick Of fancy, light of heart; And care, and time, and change have left Untouch'd his better part.'--SOUTHEY.
Etheldred May and Meta Rivers were together in the drawing-room. The timepiece pointed towards ten o'clock, but the tea-things were on the table, prepared for a meal, the lamp shone with a sort of consciousness, and Ethel moved restlessly about, sometimes settling her tea equipage, sometimes putting away a stray book, or resorting by turns to her book, or to work a red and gold scroll on coarse canvas, on the other end of which Meta was employed.
'Nervous, Ethel?' said Meta, looking up with a merry provoking smile, knowing how much the word would displease.
'That is for you,' retorted Ethel, preferring to carry the war into the enemy's quarters. 'What, don't you know that prudent people say that your fate depends on her report?'
'At least,' said Meta, laughing; 'she is a living instance that every one is not eaten up, and we shall see if she fulfils Tom's prediction of being tattooed, or of having a slice out of the fattest part of her cheek.'
'I know very well,' said Ethel, 'the worst she said it would be, the more you would go.'
'Not quite that,' said Meta, blushing, and looking down.
'Come, don't be deceitful!' said Ethel. 'You know very well that you are still more bent on it than you were last year.'
'To be sure I am!' said Meta, looking up with a sudden beamy flash of her dark eyes. 'Norman and I know each other so much better now,' she added, rather falteringly.
'Ay! I know you are ready to go through thick and thin, and that is why I give my consent and approbation. You are not to be stopped for nonsense.'
'Not for nonsense, certainly,' said Meta, 'but'--and her voice became tremulous--'if Dr. May deliberately said it would be wrong, and that I should be an encumbrance and perplexity, I am making up my mind to the chance.'
'But what would you do?' asked Ethel.
'I don't know. You should not ask such questions, Ethel.'
'Well! it won't happen, so it is no use to talk about it,' said Ethel. 'Fancy my having made you cry.'
'Very silly of me,' said Meta, brightening and laughing, but sighing. 'I am only afraid Mrs. Arnott may think me individually unfit for the kind of life, as if I could not do what other women can. Do I look so?'
'You look as if you were meant to be put under a glass case!' said Ethel, surveying the little elegant figure, whose great characteristic was a look of exquisite finish, not only in the features and colouring, the turn of the head, and the shape of the small rosy-tipped fingers, but in everything she wore, from the braids of black silk hair, to the little shoe on her foot, and even in the very lightness and gaiety of her movements.
'Oh, Ethel!' cried Meta, springing up in dismay, and looking at herself in the glass. 'What is the matter with me? Do tell me!'
'You'll never get rid of it,' said Ethel, 'unless you get yourself tattooed! Even separation from Bellairs hasn't answered. And, after all, I don't think it would be any satisfaction to Norman or papa. I assure you, Meta, whatever you may think of it, it is not so much bother to be prettier than needful, as it is to be uglier than needful.'
'What is needful?' said Meta, much amused.
'I suppose to be like Mary, so that nobody should take notice of one, but that one's own people may have the satisfaction of saying, 'she is pleasing,' or 'she is in good looks.' I think Gertrude will come to that. That's one comfort.'
'That is your own case, Ethel. I have heard those very things said of you.'
'Of my hatchet face!' said Ethel contemptuously. 'Some one must have been desperately bent on flattering the Member's family.'
'I could repeat more,' said Meta, 'if I were to go back to the Commemoration, and to the day you went home.'
Ethel crimsoned, and made a sign with her hand, exclaiming, 'Hark!'
'It went past.'
'It was the omnibus. She must be walking down!' Ethel breathed short, and wandered aimlessly about; Meta put her arm round her waist.
'I did not think this would be so much to you,' she said.
'Oh, Meta, it seems like dear mamma coming to see how we have been going on. And then papa! I wish I had gone up to the station with him.'
'He has Richard.'
'Ay, but I am afraid Margaret is listening and will be restless, and have a palpitation; and I can't go and see, or I shall disturb her. Oh, I wish it were over.'
Meta stroked her, and soothed her, and assured her that all would do well, and presently they heard the click of the door. Ethel flew into the hall, where she stopped short, her heart beating high at the sound of overpoweringly familiar accents.
She was almost relieved by detecting otherwise little resemblance; the height was nearly the same, but there was not the plump softness of outline. Mrs. Arnott was small, thin, brisk and active, with a vivacious countenance, once evidently very fair and pretty, but aged and worn by toil, not trouble, for the furrows were the traces of smiles around her merry mouth, and beautiful blue eyes, that had a tendency lo laugh and cry both at once. Dr. May who had led her into the light, seemed to be looking her all over, while Richard was taking the wraps from her, and Ethel tried to encourage herself to go forward.
'Ay!' said the doctor, kissing her. 'I see you, Flora, now. I have found you again.'
'I found you as soon as I heard your voice, Richard,' said she. 'And now for the bairnies.'
'Here is one, but there is but a poor show forthcoming to-night. Do you know her?'
There was an unspeakable joy in being pressed in Aunt Flora's arms, like a returning beam from the sunshine of seven years ago.
'This must be Ethel! My dear, how you tower above me--you that I left in arms! And,' as she advanced into the drawing-room--'why, surely this is not Margaret!'
'A Margaret--not the Margaret. I wish I were,' said Meta, as Mrs. Arnott stood with an arm on her shoulder, in the midst of an embrace, Dr. May enjoying her perplexity and Meta's blushes. 'See, Flora, these black locks never belonged to Calton Hill daisies, yet a daisy of my own she is. Can't you guess?'
'Miss Rivers!' exclaimed Mrs. Arnott; and though she kissed her cordially, Meta suspected a little doubt and disappointment.
'Yes,' said Dr. May. 'We change Mary for this little woman as Flora's lady-in-waiting, when she and her husband go out yachting and shooling.'
'Flora and her husband! There's a marvellous sound! Where are they?'
'They are staying at Eccleswood Castle,' said Ethel; 'and Mary with them. They would have been at home to receive you, but your note yesterday took us all by surprise. Norman is away too, at a college meeting.'
'And Margaret--my Margaret! Does not she come downstairs?'
'Ah! poor dear,' said Dr. May, 'she has not been in this room since that sultry day in July.'
'The eighteenth,' said Richard; the precision of the date marking but too well the consciousness that it was an epoch.
