A shiver ran through Mrs. John. Before Christmas! Even if Hester would consent at all, was it possible that her reluctance could be overpowered so soon, or that she should be made to acquiesce in Harry’s quite practical and matter-of-fact view. “No doubt you want a lady in the house,” she said, sympathetically. “I am sure if I could be of any use—”
“Oh yes, of course you could be of use,” said the straightforward lover, “after we are married; but it would be making a laughingstock of ourselves if I were to have you before. If there was any reason for putting off I might wait, but I don’t see any reason. Once it’s settled, we could make our arrangements comfortably. It is being hung up like this from week to week which is such a nuisance to me.”
He went away that evening almost angry. What was to be done? Mrs. John’s natural instinct was to “talk to” Hester; but she had learned by experience that “talking to” is not a very effectual instrument. All that she had been able to say had been said, but without much apparent effect. She had pointed out all the advantages. She had shown, with tears in her eyes, what a change it would be—what an unspeakable, delightful difference. Insensibly to herself, Mrs. John had become eloquent upon the charms, if not of Harry, at least of the White House. But this had suddenly been brought home to her by her remorseless child, who said calmly, “Mother, if I could marry the house and let you have it, I would do so in a moment,” which stopped Mrs. John’s mouth.
“Marry the—house!” she said, with a surprised cry.
“It is of the house you are talking. I know it is nice—or at least I know you like it. I do not care for it myself.”
“Oh, Hester, my first married home!”
“Yes, mother, I know. I wish I could get it for you—on easier terms,” the girl said, with a sigh. And this was about all that ever came of talking to her. She was very obstinate: and such a strange girl.
But sometimes Providence, so much appealed to—whom we upbraid for not furthering us and backing up our plans—suddenly did interfere. It was entirely by chance, as people say. Mrs. John had gone out of the room not two minutes before, and Hester, who had been walking and had just come in, stood before the old-fashioned dark mirror which occupied the space between the windows, arranging her hair, which had been blown about by the wind. It was, as has been said, troublesome hair—so full of curls that the moment it had a chance it ran out of the level and orderly into rings and twists, which were quite unfashionable in those days. It had been loosened out by the wind, and she was trying to coax it back into its legitimate bondage, with her arms raised to her head, and her back turned to the door. Harry came in without knocking, and the first intimation Hester had that the long-avoided moment had come, and that there was no escape for her, was when she saw his large form in the glass, close to her, looming over her, his fair head above hers, looking down with admiration and tenderness upon her image. She turned round hastily, with a cry of astonishment, her rebellious locks escaping from her hands.
“Why shouldn’t you let it stay so? It is very pretty so,” Harry said, looking at the curly mass with a smile, as if he had a great mind to take a lock of it in his fingers.
Hester sprang away from him, and twisted it up, she did not know how.
“It is so untidy—there is so much wind.” She was angry with herself for apologising. It was he who ought to have apologised. She pushed the hair away behind her ears, and got it fastened somehow. “I did not hear you knock,” she said.
“I fear I didn’t knock. The verandah door was open. I saw nobody about. I did not know whether I should find anyone. You are so often out now.”
“Yes, I walk with old Captain Morgan about this time. In the morning I am always at home.”
“If I had known that I should have come in the morning,” he said, “not regularly because of the bank, but I should have come once to see you. However, this is far better. I am so glad to find you. I have wished for this for months past. Has it never occurred to you that I was anxious to see you, Hester? You looked to me as if you were keeping away.”
“Why should I keep away? I do always the same thing at the same hour. Captain Morgan is old—he requires to have somebody with him.”
“And I—I am young, and I want somebody with me.”
“Oh, it does not matter about young people,” Hester said.
“I think it matters most of all, because they have their life before them; and, don’t you know, the choice of a companion tells for so much—”
“A companion!—oh, that is quite a different question,” said Hester. “It is teaching I have always wanted, never a companion’s place.”
“I have heard of that,” said Harry. “When you were quite a little thing you wanted to teach, and Aunt Catherine would not let you. You—teaching! It would have been quite out of the question. Won’t you sit down? Do come for once, now that I have found you, and sit down here.”
It was the little old-fashioned settee that was indicated, where there was just room for two.
“Oh, I have got things to do!” cried Hester, in alarm. “My mother will be
