Charlotte M. Yonge

“ Dear old Ritchie! with his goodness, and earnestness, and right judgment—to compare him to that man! Norman, Norman, I never thought it of you!”
“You do not understand me, Ethel. I only cited Richard, as a person who proves how little cleverness is needed to insure respect.”
“And, I tell you, that cleverness is not the point.”
“It is the only objection you have put forward.”
“I did wrong,” said Ethel. “It is not the real one. It is earnest goodness that one honours in Richard. Where do we find it in this man, who has never done anything but yawn over his self indulgence?” ”

“ But,” said Margaret suddenly, “you are always sure of papa.”
“In one way, yes,” said Mrs. May; “but how do I know how long—” Calm as she was, she could not finish that sentence. “No, Margaret, depend upon it, the only security is not to think about ourselves at all, and not to fix our mind on any affection on earth. The least share of the Love above is the fullness of all blessing, and if we seek that first, all these things will be added unto us, and are,” she whispered, more to herself than to Margaret. ”

“ He is as clear as he is kind,” said Flora; “he showed me that, for George’s sake, I must bear with my present life, and do the best I can with it, unless some leading comes for an escape; and that the glare, and weariness, and being spoken well of, must be taken as punishment for having sought after these things.”
“I was afraid he would say so,” said Ethel. “But you will find happiness again, Flora dear.”
“Scarcely—before I come to Margaret and to my child,” sighed Flora. “I suppose it was Mercy that would not let me follow when I wished it. I must work till the time of rest comes!” ”

“ Esteem them, then, as his; value thine own bliss, while it lasts, as the token of his care and love; and while thy heart praises him for them, and thy wings quiver and dance to the tune of that praise, then, indeed, thy gladness conduces to no vain-glory of thine own, in beauty, or in graceful flight, but thou art a creature serving—as best thou canst to his glory.’”
“I know the word,” half whispered Meta, not without a trembling of the lip. “I know why you told the story, Dr. May, but one is not as good as the humming-birds.” ”

“ It was like losing Harry over again, to go to bed without it, though she would not for the world seem to grudge it to her father.
Ethel found an opportunity of telling him of this distress, and it almost made him smile. “Poor Mary,” he said, “is she so fond of it? It is rather a libel than a likeness.”
“Don’t say so to her, pray, papa. It is all the world to her. Three strokes on paper would have been the same, if they had been called by his name.”
“Yes; a loving heart has eyes of its own, and she is a dear girl!” ”

“ And does papa really think so?”
“I believe he does,” whispered Margaret.
“How can he, can he bear it!” said Ethel, clasping her hands. “Oh! it is enough to kill one—I can’t think why it did not!”
“He bears it,” said Margaret, “because he is so very good, that help and comfort do come to him. Dear papa! He bears up because it is right, and for our sakes, and he has a sort of rest in that perfect love they had for each other. He knows how she would wish him to cheer up and look to the end, and support and comfort are given to him, I know they are; but oh, Ethel! ”

“ He gazed into the baby face, which, in its expressionless placidity, almost recalled her mother’s tranquil sweetness.
“Gertrude Margaret,” said Flora, and with a look that had more of tenderness than grief, he murmured, “My Daisy blossom, my little Maggie.”
“Might we?” said Ethel, when Flora took her again, “might we take her to her godmother to see if she would notice her?”
He looked as if he wished it; but said, “No, I think not, better not rouse her,” and sighed heavily; then, as they stood round his bed, unwilling to go, he added, “Girls, we must learn carefulness and thoughtfulness. ”

“ Dr. May was the first to rectify the globe for the southern latitudes, and fingers were affectionately laid on Orion’s studded belt, as though he were a friend who would accompany the sailor-boy. Voices grew loud and eager in enumerating the stars common to both; and so came bedtime, and the globe stood on the table in danger of being forgotten. Ethel diligently lifted it up; and while Norman exclaimed at her tidiness, Margaret told how a new leaf was to be turned, and of her voluntary forfeits.
“A very good plan,” cried the doctor. “We can’t do better than follow her example.” ”

“ Margaret still lay on the sofa, and her complexion had assumed the dead white of habitual ill-health. There was more languor of manner, and her countenance, when at rest, and not under the eye of her father, had a sadness of expression, as if any hopes that she might once have entertained were fading away. The years of Alan Ernescliffe’s absence that had elapsed had rather taken from her powers than added to them. Nevertheless, the habit of cheerfulness and sympathy had not deserted her, and it was with a somewhat amused glance that she turned towards Ethel, as she heard her answer by a sigh. ”

“ I am never sorry for a quiet time to recollect and consider.”
“It must be like the waiting in the dark between the slides of a magic lantern,” said Ethel; “I never like to be quiet. I get so unhappy.”
“I am glad of resting and recollecting,” said Margaret. “It has all been so like a dream, that merry morning, and then, slowly waking to find myself here in dear mamma’s place, and papa watching over me. Sometimes I think I have not half understood what it really is, and that I don’t realise, that if I was up and about, I should find the house without her.” ”

“ She went straight to him, and, kneeling by his side, said, “George, forgive!” The same moment he had caught her to his bosom; but so impressed was his tardy mind with the peril of talking to her, that he held her in his arms without a single word, till Dr. May had unclosed his lips—a sign would not suffice—he must have a sentence to assure him; and then it was such joy to have her restored, and his fondness and solicitude were so tender and eager in their clumsiness, that his father-in-law was touched to the heart. ”

“ Inch by inch, a step at a time, the ladies were landed in a crowd of their own sex, where Flora bravely pioneered; they emerged on their benches, shook themselves out, and seated themselves. There was the swarm of gay ladies around them, and beneath the area, fast being paved with heads, black, brown, gray, and bald, a surging living sea, where Meta soon pointed out Dr. May and George; the mere sight of such masses of people was curious and interesting, reminding Ethel of Cherry Elwood having once shocked her by saying the Whit-Monday club was the most beautiful sight in the whole year. ”

“ You are a little of her, besides being my own dear Peg-top! You are very lucky to miss the mealtimes and the evenings.”
“That is the reason I don’t feel it wrong to like to have papa sitting with me all the evening,” said Margaret, “though it may make it worse for you to have him away. I don’t think it selfish in me to keep him. He wants quiet so much, or to talk a little when it suits him; we are too many now, when he is tired.”
“Oh, it is best,” said Ethel. “Nothing that you do is selfish—don’t talk of it, dear Margaret. It will be something like old times when you come down again.” ”

“ I should like to abuse her well.”
“It would make a very good theme, in a new line,” said Norman; “but I don’t give into it, altogether. It is the hope and the thought of fame, that has made men great, from first to last. It is in every one that is not good for nothing, and always will be! The moving spirit of man’s greatness!”
“I’m not sure,” said Ethel; “I think looking for fame is like wanting a reward at once. I had rather people forgot themselves. Do you think Arnold von Winkelried thought about fame when he threw himself on the spears?”
“He got it,” said Norman. ”

“ He told me I looked much better when he found me trying it on.”
“And did you really have the looking-glass and try it on?” cried Ethel.
“Yes, really,” said Flora. “Don’t you think one may as well be fit to be seen if one is ill? It is no use to depress one’s friends by being more forlorn and disconsolate than one can help.”
“No—not disconsolate,” said Ethel; “but the white puffiness—and the hemming—and the glass!”
“Poor Ethel can’t get over it,” said Margaret. “But, Ethel, do you think there is nothing disconsolate in untidiness?” ”

“ A brotherly home-truth followed: “Nobody asked you, sir, she said!” was muttered by Norman, still laughing heartily.
“I know,” said Ethel, not in the least offended, “I am very ugly, and very awkward, but I don’t care. There never can be anybody in all the world that I shall like half as well as papa, and I am glad no one is ever likely to make me care less for him and Cocksmoor.”
“Stay till you are tried,” said Norman.
Ethel squeezed up her eyes, curled up her nose, showed her teeth in a horrible grimace, and made a sort of snarl: “Yah! That’s the face I shall make at them!” ”

“ If we only had Una M’Carthy here!”
“Then you don’t like it?” said Mary, disappointed.
“It is time to learn not to be fastidious,” he answered. “So, if you will help me—”
“Norman, I am so glad!” said Ethel.
“Yes,” said Norman, “I see now that these things that puff us up, and seem the whole world to us now, all end in nothing but such as this! Think of old Mr. Wilmot, once carrying all before him, but deeming all his powers well bestowed in fifty years’ teaching of clowns!”
“Yes,” replied Ethel, very low. “One soul is worth—” and she paused from the fullness of thought. ”

“ Poor Flora! she must be ennobled, she thought, by having a child where hers is, when she is able to feel anything but the first grief; and Ethel’s heart yearned to be trying, at least, to comfort her, and to be with her father, who had loved his grandchild so fondly.
It was not to be. Margaret had borne so many shocks with such calmness, that Ethel had no especial fears for her; but there are some persons who have less fortitude for others than for themselves, and she was one of these. ”

“ The narration, in his low tones, roused her from her mood of vexation. It was the story of David, which he told in language scriptural and poetical, so pretty and tender in its simplicity, that she could not choose but attend. Ever and anon there was a glance towards Harry, as if he were secretly likening his own “yellow-haired laddie” to the “shepherd boy, ruddy, and of a fair countenance.”
“So Tom and Blanche,” he concluded, “can you tell me how we may be like the shepherd-boy, David?”
“There aren’t giants now,” said Tom.
“Wrong is a giant,” said his little sister. ”

“ Fear not, for He is with you, who will never forsake.
Thus Dr. May read the words with swelling heart, as he looked at his son’s clear, grave, manful look, even as it had been when he made his Confirmation vow—his natural nervous excitability quelled by a spirit not his own, and chastened into strong purpose; and the bride, her young face the more lovely for the depth of enthusiasm restrained by awe and humility, as she stood without trembling or faltering, the strength of innocence expressed in the whole bearing of her slight figure in her white drapery. ”

“ Home and Cocksmoor had been her choice, and they were before her. Home! but her eyes had been opened to see that earthly homes may not endure, nor fill the heart. Her dear father might, indeed, claim her full-hearted devotion, but, to him, she was only one of many. Norman was no longer solely hers; and she had begun to understand that the unmarried woman must not seek undivided return of affection, and must not set her love, with exclusive eagerness, on aught below, but must be ready to cease in turn to be first with any. Ethel was truly a mother to the younger ones ”

“ Ethel stood by, pale and transfixed with horror. Her father was more angry with her than she had ever seen him, and with reason, as she knew, as she smelled the singeing, and saw a large burnt hole in Aubrey’s pinafore, while the front of his frock was scorched and brown. Dr. May’s words were not needed, “What could make you let him?”
“I didn’t see—” she faltered.
“Didn’t see! Didn’t look, didn’t think, didn’t care! That’s it, Ethel. ‘Tis very hard one can’t trust you in a room with the child any more than the baby himself. His frock perfect tinder! ”