The Clever Woman of the Family

in one hand, and a shy infant-school child in the other. But Ermine’s eye roamed anxiously, for though Rachel’s animated, characteristic gestures were fully discernible, and her little Una’s arch toss of the head marked her out, yet the companion whom she had beguiled away, and who had become more to Ermine than any other of the frisking little ones of the flock, was neither with her nor with his chief protector, Rose. In a second or two, however, the step that to her had most “music in’t” of all footfalls that ever were trodden, was sounding on the path that led circuitously up the path, and the Colonel appeared with the little runaway holding his hand.

“Why, baby, you are soon come away!”

“I did not like it⁠—sit on mamma’s knee,” said the little fellow, scrambling to his place then as one who felt it his own nest and throne.

“He was very soon frightened,” said the Colonel; “it was only that little witch Una who could have deluded him into such a crowd, and, as soon as she saw a bigger boy to beguile, she instantly deserted Keith, so I relieved Rachel of him.”

“See Rachel now; Mr. Clare is interrogating her. How she is making them laugh! I did not think she could ever have so entered into fun.”

“Alick must have made it a part of her education. When the Invalid has time for another essay, Ermine, it should be on the benefits of ridicule.”

“Against Clever Womanhood? But then the subject must have Rachel’s perfect good humour.”

“And the weapon must be in the most delicately skilful hands,” added the Colonel. “Properly wielded, it saves blunting the superior weapon by over-frequent use. Here the success is complete.”

“It has been irony rather than ridicule,” said Ermine, “though, when he taught her to laugh, he won half the battle. It is beautiful to see her holding herself back, and most forbearing where she feels most positive. I am glad to see him looking so much stronger and more substantial. Where is he?”

“On the further bank, supposed by Mrs. Curtis to be asleep, but watching uncle, wife, and child through his eyelashes. Did you ever see anyone so like his sister as that child?”

“Much more so than this one. I am glad he may one day see such a shadow of his bright-faced mother.”

“You are mother!” said the little orphan, looking up into Ermine’s face with a startled, wistful look, as having caught more of her meaning than she had intended, and she met his look with a kiss, the time was not yet come for gainsaying the belief more than in the words, “Yes, always a mother to you, my precious little man.”

“Nor could you have had a bonnier face to look into,” added the Colonel. “There, the game breaks up. We should collect our flock, and get them them back to Les Invalides, as Alick calls it.”

“Take care no one else does so,” said Ermine, laughing. “It has been a most happy day, and chief of all the pleasures has been the sight of Rachel just what I hoped, a thorough wife and mother, all the more so for her being awake to larger interests, and doing common things better for being the Clever Woman of the family. Where is she? I don’t see her now.”

Where is she? was asked by more than one of the party, but the next to see her was Alick, who found her standing at the window of her own room, with her long-robed, two-months’ old baby in her arms. “Tired?” he asked.

“No; I only sent down nurse to drink tea with the other grandees. What a delightful day it has been! I never hoped that such good fruit would rise out of my unhappy blunders.”

“The blunders that brought so much good to me.”

“Ah! the old places bring them back again. I have been recollecting how it used to seem to me the depth of my fall that you were marrying me out of pure pity, without my having the spirit to resent or prevent it, and now I just like to think how kind and noble it was in you.”

“I am glad to hear it! I thought I was so foolishly in love, that I was very glad of any excuse for pressing it on.”

“Are the people dispersing? Where is your uncle?”

“He went home with the Colonel and his wife; he has quite lost his heart to Ermine.”

“And Una⁠—did you leave her with Grace?”

“No, she trotted down hand in hand with his little lordship: promising to lead her uncle back.”

“My dear Alick, you don’t mean that you trust to that?”

“Why, hardly implicitly.”

“Is that the way you say so? They may be both over the cliffs. If you will just stay in the room with baby, I will go down and fetch them up.”

Alick very obediently held out his arms for his son, but when Rachel proceeded to take up her hat, he added, “You have run miles enough today. I am going down as soon as my uncle has had time to pay his visit in peace, without being hunted.”

“Does he know that?”

“The Colonel does, which comes to the same thing. Is not this boy just of the age that little Keith was when you gave him up?”

“Yes; and is it not delightful to see how much larger and heavier he is!”

“Hardly, considering your objections to fine children.”

“Oh, that was only to coarse, overgrown ones. Una is really quite as tall as little Keith, and much more active. You saw he could not play at the game at all, and she was all life and enjoyment, with no notion of shyness.”

“It does not enter into her composition.”

“And she speaks much plainer. I never miss a word she says, and I don’t understand Keith a bit, though he tells such long stories.”

“How backward!”

“Then she knows all her letters by sight⁠—almost all, and Ermine can never get him to tell b from d; and you know how