Agnes Giberne

“ The fact that any time would do equally well soon meant no time.
This had been a typical day; and she reviewed it ruefully. A morning of aimless nothings; the mending of clothes idly deferred; hours spent in the reading of a foolish novel; jars with Penrose; friction with her mother; a sharp set-down from her father; then forgetfulness of wrongs and resentment during a romp in the snow with Merryl and Frip—till the younger girls were summoned indoors, leaving her to descend at a plunge from gaiety to disquiet. Magda's variations were many. ”

“ Silence again; and Magda said, "You mean—?"
"A world-wide carpet is being woven through the ages. And only the Divine Master-Mind, having designed its pattern, can foresee what it will be like in the end. Many, many, are at work upon it. One little square inch of the weaving is given to me as my life-task, and another little square inch is given to you. Neither of us can see much beyond our own tiny share. What we have to do may seem to us out of harmony with the rest, or not worth the trouble of doing. Sometimes our whole work looks like failure. ”

“ Going to bed this night seemed to Magda almost impossible. There was so much to think about. Life had assumed a new colouring.
A vague sense had dawned upon her—vague at first, but rendered more definite by Amy Smith's unwise speech—that she had some sort of power over Lancelot Ivor. Power, it might be, to make him like her. He seemed to enjoy her companionship. She had found that she could interest him, could amuse him, could make him for the moment grave at will. And Amy's remark set the seal to her discovery. ”

“ She knew that it would be easy to explain Bee's over-anxiety, by the fact that one of the two men was the brother of her intimate friend.
"He's safe!" dropped slowly from Bee's lips. She drew one long sigh; her arms slackened and fell; and already she was dead asleep. A look of childlike peace overspread her face.
Amy stood looking down upon her. "Poor little dear! That's all you care for now! He—not even 'they.' And will he ever care for you? And if not—will you break your poor little heart? People don't break their hearts now-a-days—some say. But Bee is not like the ordinary run." ”

“ Bee had indeed devoted much of her time to Patricia, through the late winter and early spring; spending hours in the dim room; putting aside other claims and many pleasures, that she might carry comfort and cheer to the stricken girl, bracing her to endure her trouble with courage, and gently leading her up to higher views of life and its duties, to a truer conception of what is meant by happiness, than Patricia had ever known before. ”

“ A neat little maid opened the door and showed her into a drawing-room which took her by surprise. It was much larger than she had expected—yes, plainly, the front and back rooms had been thrown into one, making a room of good size, handsomely furnished. On an easel in the back window stood a half-finished painting; and work lay about carelessly. Magda recognised the tasteful fingers of her friend in the very sweep of the window-curtains, and in the mass of flowers piled upon a side-table. Bee was a born artist, and she carried with her an atmosphere of harmony. ”

“ Magda spoke abruptly. "Somebody said not long ago that my dream of living with you would never come true, because you were sure to marry."
Robert laughed. "I can't afford it. And my work leaves no leisure. And—I've never seen the girl. Three cogent reasons. So you may pretty well count upon me. I'm a non-marrying man."
Magda's sigh was one of relief. "I'm glad. I don't think I could endure all the home-worries, if I had not that to look forward to. I only wish I could come to you now!"
"Nobody is the worse for waiting. Don't let your life be empty meantime—that's all." ”

“ So it often is in life.
The thing looked worth doing, apart from any question of rehearsals. Magda thought she would do it. For the sake of right, for the sake of honour, for the sake of her friend—she would hold herself in the background. She would no longer exert herself to be delightful. Mr. Ivor should find her dull and uninteresting. That would put things straight for Bee. She got into bed at last, seeing her own conduct in rosy hues, self put aside, love for Bee victorious, principle getting the upper hand over inclination. ”

“ And whether the conjectures were right or wrong, Magda's duty stood forth clearly.
One more of life's opportunities lay before her. An opportunity for self-denial, for self-forgetfulness, on behalf of her friend. She had so wanted in the past to do something great, something grand, something worth doing. Here was her chance. Self-sacrifice is the grandest thing possible in the life of man or woman.
Nor was it of so severe a type as to be overwhelmingly difficult. She liked to be the prominent person, winning attention and admiration. She also liked Mr. Ivor, and her vanity was pleased. ”

“ Patricia often kept people waiting—those whom she counted to be of small social importance; but she had never kept Magda quite so long before. Gloomy forebodings attacked the girl. Did Patricia not care to see her, after all these weeks of separation? Had she said or done something that Patricia did not like? Could it be that some inkling had reached Patricia of the coming of the Majors to Burwood, and that she counted a friend of theirs no longer a fit friend for herself? ”

“ Magda did not at once reply. A recollection came up of sharp complaints from her father.
"I can't see that there is anything for me to do—worth doing!" she said at length. "Nor anything worth living for."
"Child!"—and he spoke in a moved tone. "Life is always worth living—in God! Everything is worth doing—in Christ our Lord."
"But if there really is nothing?" she insisted.
"If you have absolutely no direct work now, you must wait in patience, and train yourself for the future. You must educate your powers—make yourself ready for what may come by-and-by. ”

“ Miss Wryatt was tall and meekly dignified, with the sweetest and serenest elderly face ever seen; and Miss Emma Wryatt was short and plump and full of life. Both resembled Mrs. Major in a certain air of distinguished composure; and both also resembled her in devotion to and admiration for Bee, only daughter of the one, only niece of the other two.
Everything was by this time in train for the morrow; all arrangements were made; and nothing remained to be done. The staff of old and capable servants knew their duties to perfection in any kind of function ”

“ When the expected letter at last came from Magda, though she was a little grieved at the manifest lack of real delight in the prospect of having her at Burwood, it could not mean the same that it would have meant before that visit. For one who has been in strong sunshine, the brightest moonlight must seem pale.
"Bee, what are you cogitating about? I don't understand your face."
Bee smiled. "I was thinking over—varieties. These mountains make one think. Yes, I shall have Magda. But one friend does not fill another's place. You will always be you to me." ”

“ Magda guessed in a moment what her mother felt; for the Honourable Mrs. Framley was a county magnate; the weightiest personality in more senses than one to be found for many a mile around. A call from her was reckoned by some people as second only to a call from Royalty. The girl's first impulse was to flee; but a solid outstretched hand commanded her approach.
"Now, which of your young folks is this?" demanded Mrs. Framley, examining Magda through an eye-glass. "Let me see—you've got—how many daughters? Penrose—Magda—Merryl—Frances. ”

“ From early infancy she had been his especial pet; and her seat was always by his side. Mr. Royston without Merryl was like a ship without its rudder—a helpless object.
"Lots of letters for everybody except Magda," piped Francie's small treble.
"So much the better for me! I haven't the bother of answering them," Magda said joyously.
"Seem to have liked your walk," Mr. Royston remarked in puzzled accents. For Magda, after parting with Rob, was usually what he described as "in the dumps" for hours.
"I just love a fight with the snow. And I've seen Patricia Vincent. She was at the station too. ”

“ She had never guessed beforehand how very much she and everybody would miss careful quiet Pen in the little arrangements of common life. Everything at first seemed awry without her; everything out of joint. And Magda really did set herself, honestly, to learn and remember the hundred and one little things, which somehow had always seemed to do themselves, and which now she was expected as a matter of course to undertake.
It was not easy. The habits of years are not to be conquered in a day. ”

“ Bee was quick! Sometimes I wonder—whether—I wouldn't rather have died!" Patricia burst into tears.
"Don't cry, please," begged Magda, dismayed. "You don't really mean that, you know."
"Perhaps not, in one way. But in another way—if I'm never to be what I was—if nobody is ever to love me again—"
"People don't love one another because of their looks." ”

“ Nearer was the bare and rocky Blümlisalp-stock, cold and grim in the twilight, rising abruptly from the névé of the glacier.
Long lingered the mysterious radiance of the afterglow on the spurs and slopes of those great Gothic peaks, until the last filmy veil, sea-green in hue, faded before the onslaught of night. Then attendant stars began to twinkle in the vault over the Blümlisalphorn, forming a little crown above his head.
The two girls held their breath, clasping hands under the rugs.
"It's too lovely," murmured Amy. "What a splendid world ours is! ”

“ Bee worked steadily in silence. She had clever hands and often made her own dresses. A half-completed blouse lay on her knees.
"Perhaps I might," she said at length. "But one can't always have everything one likes."
"If you stood up for yourself a little more, things would be different."
Bee shook her head. "It isn't my way," she said.
After a break, she began again—"And, besides, don't you sometimes think, Magda, of how things will look by-and-by—as the years go on?" ”

“ Steady Penrose, useful Merryl, picturesque little Frip, were everything that he desired. Magda alone puzzled him. He could not make out what she wanted, or why she would not be content to fit in with others, to play games, to sit and work, to do anything or nothing with equal content. Dreams and aspirations, indeed! Nonsense! Humbug! What did girls want with such notions? They had to be good girls, to do as they were told, and to make themselves agreeable. ”