'We can keep her quieter upstairs,' said Dr. May; 'but you must not see her to-night. She will enjoy you very much to-morrow; but excitement at night always does her harm, so we put her to bed, and told her to think about no one.'
Mrs. Arnott looked at him as if longing, but dreading, to ask further, and allowed her nephew and niece to seat her at the table, and attend to her wants, before she spoke again. 'Then the babies.'
'We don't keep babies, Gertrude would tell you,' said Dr. May. 'There are three great creatures, whom Ethel barbarously ordered off to bed. Ethel is master here, you must know, Flora--we all mind what she says.'
'Oh, papa,' pleaded Ethel, distressed, 'you know it was because I thought numbers might be oppressive.'
'I never dispute,' said Dr. May. 'We bow to a beneficial despotism, and never rebel, do we, Meta?'
Seeing that Ethel took the imputation to heart, Meta rejoined, 'You are making Mrs. Arnott think her the strong-minded woman of the family, who winds up the clock and cuts the bread.'
'No; that she makes you do, when the boys are away.'
'Of course,' said Ethel, 'I can't be vituperated about hunches of bread. I have quite enough to bear on the score of tea.'
'Your tea is very good,' said Richard.
'See how they propitiate her,' maliciously observed the doctor.
'Not at all; it is Richard standing up for his pupil,' said Ethel. 'It is all very well now, with people who know the capacities of mortal tea; but the boys expect it to last from seven o'clock to ten, through an unlimited number of cups, till I have announced that a teapot must be carved on my tombstone, with an epitaph, 'Died of unreasonable requirements.''
Mrs. Arnott looked from one to the other, amused, observant, and perceiving that they were all under that form of shyness which brings up family wit to hide embarrassment or emotion.
'Is Harry one of these unreasonable boys?' she asked. 'My dear Harry--I presume Ethel has not sent him to bed. Is there any hope of my seeing him?'
'Great hope,' said Dr. May. 'He has been in the Baltic fleet, a pretty little summer trip, from which we expect him to return any day. My old Lion! I am glad you had him for a little while, Flora.
'Dear fellow! his only fault was being homesick, and making me catch the infection.'
'I am glad you did not put off your coming,' said Dr. May gravely.
'You are in time for the consecration,' said Richard.
'Ah! Cocksmoor! When will it take place?'
'On St. Andrew's Day. It is St. Andrew's Church, and the bishop fixed the day, otherwise it is a disappointment that Hector cannot be present.'
'Hector?'
'Hector Ernescliffe--poor Alan's brother, whom we don't well know from ourselves.'
'And you are curate, Ritchie?' said his aunt--'if I may still call you so. You are not a bit altered from the mouse you used to be.'
'Church mouse to Cocksmoor,' said Dr. May, 'nearly as poor. We are to invest his patrimony in a parsonage as soon as our architect in ordinary can find time for it. Spencer--you remember him?'
'I remember how you and he used to be inseparable! And he has settled down, at last, by your side?'
'The two old doctors hope to bolster each other up till Mr. Tom comes down with modern science in full force. That boy will do great things--he has as clear a head as I ever knew.'
'And more--' said Ethel.
'Ay, as sound a heart. I must find you his tutor's letter, Flora. They have had a row in his tutor's house at Eton, and our boys made a gallant stand for the right, Tom especially, guarding the little fellows in a way that does one good to hear of.'
''I must express my strong sense of gratitude for his truth, uprightness, and moral courage,'' quoted Meta.
'Ah, ha! you have learned it by heart! I know you copied it out for Norman, who has the best right to rejoice.'
'You have a set of children to be proud of, Richard!' exclaimed Mrs. Arnott.
'To be surprised at--to be thankful for,' said Dr. May, almost inarticulately.
To see her father so happy with Mrs. Arnott necessarily drew Ethel's heart towards her; and, when they had bidden him goodnight, the aunt instantly assumed a caressing confidence towards Ethel, particularly comfortable to one consciously backward and awkward, and making her feel as intimate as if the whole space of her rational life had not elapsed since their last meeting.
'Must you go, my dear?' said her aunt, detaining her over her fire. 'I can't tell how to spare you. I want to hear of your dear father. He looks aged and thin, Ethel, and yet that sweet expression is the same as ever. Is he very anxious about poor Margaret?'
'Not exactly anxious,' said Ethel mournfully--'there is not much room for that.'
'My dear Ethel--you don't mean?--I thought--'
'I suppose we ought to have written more fully,' said Ethel; 'but it has been very gradual, and we never say it to ourselves. She is as bright, and happy, and comfortable as ever, in general, and, perhaps, may be so for a long time yet, but each attack weakens her.'
'What kind of attack?'
'Faintness-sinking. It is suspended action of the heart. The injury to the spine deranged the system, and then the long suspense, and the shock-- It is not one thing more than another, but it must go on. Dr. Spencer will tell you. You won't ask papa too much about it?'
'No, indeed. And he bears it--'
'He bears everything. Strength comes up out of his great lovingness. But, oh! I sometimes long that he may never have any more sorrows.'
'My poor child!' said Mrs. Arnott, putting her arm round her niece's waist.
Ethel rested her head on her shoulder. 'Aunt Flora! Aunt Flora! If any words could tell what Margaret has been ever since we were left. Oh, don't make me talk or think of ourselves without her. It is wrong to wish. And when you see her, that dear face of hers will make you happy in the present. Then,' added Ethel, not able to leave off with such a subject, 'you have our Norman to see.'
'Ah! Norman's project is too delightful to us; but I fear what it may be to your father.'
'He gives dear Norman, as his most precious gift, the flower and pride of us all.'
'But, Ethel, I am quite frightened at Miss Rivers's looks. Is it possible that--'
'Aunt Flora,' broke in Ethel, 'don't say a word against it. The choicest goods wear the best; and whatever woman can do, Meta Rivers can. Norman is a great tall fellow, as clever as possible, but perfectly feckless. If you had him there alone, he would be a bee without a queen.'
'Well, but--'
'Listen,' continued Ethel. 'Meta is a concentration of spirit and energy, delights in practical matters, is twice the housewife I am, and does all like an accomplishment. Between them, they will make a noble missionary--'
'But she looks--'
'Hush,' continued the niece. 'You will think me domineering; but please don't give any judgment without seeing; for they look to you as an arbitrator, and casual words will weigh.'
'Thank you, Ethel; perhaps you are right. When does he think of coming out?'
'When he is ordained--some time next year.'
'Does she live with you?'
'I suppose she lives with Flora; but we always manage to get her when Norman is at home.'
'You have told me nothing of Flora or Mary.'
'I have little real to tell. Good old Mary! I dare say Harry talked to you plentifully of her. She is a--a nice old darling,' said Ethel fondly. 'We want her again very much, and did not quite bargain for the succession of smart visits that she has been paying.'
'With Flora?'
'Yes. Unluckily George Rivers has taken an aversion to the Grange, and I have not seen Flora this whole year.'
Ethel stopped short, and said that she must not keep Margaret expecting her. Perhaps her aunt guessed that
