Ethel Turner

“ But presently the child fell asleep, and Meg stayed there, motionless, on the bed edge, looking down at the small, flushed cheeks, where the black lashes lay still heavy and wet.
There was a strange look of Judy about the little face to-night, and altogether it made Meg forget the visitors downstairs, Alan, Nell's impatience, everything but the little dead mother and the knowledge that her place was not well filled. She thought of Bunty, sullen, hard, untruthful, and growing more so every day—Bunty, whose nature no one but Poppet had a key to, and even hers would not always turn. ”

“ Meg loves the exquisite face of the singer, and the back of the sweet little child. There is a long photo-frame with a balcony rail: here is Essie all dimpled with her sauciest smile; Poppet and Peter's heads close together like two little bright-eyed birds; Nell, a little self-conscious with the camera so close; Esther looking absurdly girlish; Pip in his cap and gown when they were delightfully new. Bunty always refused to put on an engaging smile and submit himself to the photographer, so he is not represented. ”

“ He had the face of a boy at war with the world. His eyes were sullen, brooding—his mouth obstinate. Every one knew he was the black sheep. He knew it himself, and resented it in silence.
Poppet understood him a little—no one else. He was at perpetual enmity with his father, who had no patience with him at all. Esther excused him by saying he was at the hobbledehoy stage, and would grow up all right; but she was always too busy to help him to grow. Meg’s hands were full with Pip; and Nell, after a try or two to win his confidence, had pronounced him a larrikin, undeserving of sisters at all. ”

“ Meg said softly, "I would not bring unhappiness upon him for all the world. If I had a lover, and thought my love could only do him harm, I would never see him again."
"Oh-h-h," said Miss Jones,—"oh-h dear!"
Some tears gathered on her black lashes, and slipped slowly down her cheeks. They were clear tears too, and the lashes had not changed colour. Meg remembered Nellie's accusation and blushed.
"W-what is it you want me to do?" the young dressmaker said. "Oh-h, you are cruel."
Meg felt she was, but kept telling herself she must save Pip. ”

“ Poor Nellie! no punishment on earth could have been harder for her. To die—that would be quite easy, pleasant even; but to remain passive—oh! it needed greater courage than hers.
To go away, to leave the house, and not even venture past the gates again for weeks, not to see the little sweet sister upon whom her wilfulness alone had brought this suffering, not even to have the relief of spending her strength in nursing! To go away, and eat and sleep and pass the time doing ordinary things, and trying to keep Bunty, and Poppet, and Peter comfortable and happy! ”

“ If you should be just a little extravagant with the housekeeping money, Meg, I won't scold you much; you can let Bennett's bill run if you like, and have a little garden party or jollification. Every one kiss my little one daughter for me.
"Your loving old mother, "ESTHER."
It was only the last part they heeded. What were descriptions of old temples to them with that little tossing head on the pillow?
"Oh, Esther,—poor, poor Esther!" Meg said, with the first sob in her throat since Alan had pronounced it to be the fever—"oh, if she knew!" But she was mercifully spared that knowledge. ”

“ Poppet put her head under the clothes and sobbed hysterically; the little, narrow bed with its spring mattress was shaking.
"Oh!" said Nellie,—"oh dear, this is tiresome! Poppet, do you want anything? Would you like a drink?—oh, I'm in such a hurry,—what is it, Poppet? What's the use of being silly, now? When a dream's gone, it's gone. Stop crying at once, or I shall be very angry, and go and leave you in the dark!"
The bed shook even more violently.
"M-M-Meg!" was the word that came with a choking sound from under the counterpane,—"oh, M-M-Meg!" ”

“ When he learnt Meg had been to her he had accused his sister of treachery, of trying to ruin his happiness; he had been willing, he said, to put off the question of marriage for a year or two, but no power on earth would have made him promise to give Mabelle up.
And she had given him up! Put him aside as if he had been a schoolboy, or a worn-out glove! And with astonishing firmness. He had even seen her already walking out with a man who sold saucepans and kettles and fire-grates in the one business street of the suburb. ”

“ But Poppet flung up her arms, and with a wild, piercing shriek darted from her place and flew across the room.
There was a crash of crockery, one of those slow, piece-after-piece crashes, when you wonder if there can be anything left to be broken, angry words from the waiter and manager, confusion and laughter on the part of the diners, blankest amazement on the faces of Martha and Malcolm, and in the midst a small girl in a white frock and big hat clinging frantically to “a tallish little boy with brown eyes and dark, rough hair,”—a shabby, white-faced boy in a waiter’s apron. ”

“ And that exquisite pink in her cheeks!
"Oh, Meg!" Nellie said, half guessing, half shy.
"Dear Peter—oh, Poppet, do come!" Meg entreated. The pink had deepened, her eyes had grown distressful. Both children rose and followed her without a word; they had the native delicacy that every unspoiled child possesses.
But Nellie had lost interest in her book,—what was a fictitious tale of love, when she might hear of one in real life within these very walls?
She went downstairs and into the drawing-room. "Who's in the study, Esther? I can hear voices," she said sharply. ”

“ She touched the smooth cheeks and brow with tender fingers.
There was a little silence fraught with love, the two bright heads leaning together; then Meg spoke, shyly, hesitatingly:
“Alan—Nell dear—you do—like him?”
“Oh, he’s well enough—oh yes, I’m very fond of Alan,” said Nell. “Of course I don’t consider him half good enough, though, for you.”
“Oh, Nellie!” Meg looked quite distressed. “Why, it is the other way, of course. He is so clever—oh! you don’t know how clever; and I am such a stupid thing.”
“Very stupid,” assented Nellie; but her smile differed. ”

“ Nellie had blushed hotly, and shrunk back into a corner. Oh, if only there had been a door near and she could have slipped out and flown through the night back to dear, despised Misrule. If only the floor would open and mercifully swallow her out of sight! If only there was a window near, through which she could make her exit from Trafalgar House for ever! But alas! the drawing-room was upstairs here, and there were no convenient tanks and thickly-wooded creepers such as had made her descent from her own bedroom almost easy. ”

“ Swift wheels on the road, a shriek from Peter and Poppet, and the question was decided. Meg filled up the teapot and cosied it, then snatched Essie up in her arms and went down the path. Oh, thank God, thank God she had her to take!
Esther leapt out before the horse fairly stopped, just as impetuously young as ever. She devoured Essie, lifted big Peter right up in her arms, laughed and cried over the others.
No one said anything the pen could catch for the next ten minutes; every one spoke at once and laughed at once; every one asked questions and no one waited for answers. ”

“ Just the room you might expect Meg to have. It is fresh, simple, and daintily pretty. The floor is covered with white China matting; the bed hangings have loose pink roses on a white ground; the pillows have hem-stitched frills. There is a bookcase on one wall, in which the poets preponderate; the dressing-table is strewn with the pretty odds and ends girls delight in; there is a writing-table that looks as if it is used often; and in the window stands a deep wicker chair with rose-pink cushions double frilled. ”

“ Pip’s coat was off before any one had even time to scream, he flung it into Meg’s lap right over the teacups, and was swimming out to the little dark bobbing head in less time than it takes to write it.
Nellie and Poppet had screamed, a strange, strangled cry had broken from Esther’s lips, and the Captain had put his arm round her and said, “Don’t be foolish, she’s quite safe,” in a sharp voice; but his face was white under its bronze,—this little saucy-faced baby daughter of his had crept closer to his heart than any of his other children. ”

“ Its mother!
The scene came vividly before Meg’s eyes to-night, as she sat with the poor child close in her arms.
She bent her head in an agony of shame and sorrow.
How she had failed! how she had neglected, scolded, grown impatient with, laughed at, her little trust! Loved her, of course; but life was such a confusing, busy, quarrelling, pleasure-seeking kind of thing at Misrule, and she had forgotten so often, and been so taken up with her own affairs, that she had not had time to “be a mother” to her little sister.
“Oh, Poppet!” ”

“ That young person was at a difficult age just now: too old—in her own eyes, at any rate—to romp with Bunty and Poppet; too young to take a place beside Meg and pay visits with Esther,—she hung between, and had just compromised matters by letting down [13] her frocks, as years ago Meg had done in the privacy of her bedroom.
Her early promise of good looks was more than fulfilled, and in this long, pale blue muslin, and “picture” hat, cornflower-trimmed, she looked a fresh enough young beauty to be queen of a season. ”

“ She felt years and years older than he—felt almost as if she were his mother, and he a child begging to play with the fire.
Strange wisdom came to her. She neither railed nor mocked, reproached nor wept. “And after you are married, what then, Pip?” she said, her voice quite even. “Fifty pounds a year won’t go very far; and I suppose father will stop even that.”
He flung back his head with its crisp waves and curls, the light came into his eyes.
“I can work,” he said, and smiled proudly.
Meg looked merely thoughtful. ”

“ Esther, can't you speak? Oh, Pip, what is it?"
"Matter!" shouted her father; "I'm disgraced—we're all disgraced. Where is he? Heavens! I'll cut the skin off his back! Peter, get my horsewhip; he's no son of mine! I'll turn him off—I'll have him locked up. Where is he? where is the young thief? Only let me get hold of him. Bring him here at once, Pip. Where's that horsewhip, Peter?"
"He's run away, we think," Nellie said in a trembling voice; and there was a great silence for two minutes, broken only by a very deep breath from Poppet. Then Meg's voice was heard. ”

“ Bunty's collar this afternoon is a sign of the times; it is perfectly white and almost unrumpled; the whole of it is visible, and his jacket does not fit extraordinarily badly. His mouth is firm, but hardly strikes one as obstinate now, and the brooding light that used to be in his eyes shows very seldom. Pip says if some day the boy becomes a great hero it will not surprise any one in the family at all, despite those early days he is so bitterly ashamed of.
This is quite a different Nellie from the one who went over this same lawn in her first long dress. ”

“ Meg thought it time to put away her handkerchief and interpose herself between the two "grass orphans," or the quarrel would end in Essie slapping Peter, and Peter growing red and pushing her down on the ground.
Every one was looking a little grave and upset. It is impossible to see a great ship bearing our dear ones move slowly away toward the wide, terrible ocean without quickened heart-beatings, and serious if not misty eyes, even if they are only going for a very little time, and accidents are unheard-of things with such splendid ships. ”

“ Adolphus Fitzroy-Browne, with a large expanse of white shirt front, a pink-edged tie, great diamond studs, and a red silk sash tied at one side instead of a waistcoat.
And away down near one end, a stout American Hebrew, dinner intent, on one side, a young man of the puppy order on the other, sat Nellie,—Nellie, looking like a little lonely field flower sprung up in a bed of gaudy dahlias,—Nellie, in a white, simple dress of home make, high-necked, long-sleeved, with the dying pink roses at her breast, and a silver "wish" bangle that cost half-a-crown for her only jewellery. ”

“ Meg looked merely thoughtful.
"Of course you can," she said; "but of course you will get a bare nothing at first. And, Pip, excuse me saying it, aren't you rather selfish? You might be able to rough it; but wouldn't it be very hard on her? Dear Pip, haven't you too much pride to ask any woman in the world to be your wife, and not have a penny to offer her or a house to take her to?" ”

“ Then she turned to Nellie.
"I don't know what you want to run away like this for; I shall begin to think you're not enjoying yourself. Come, we're going into the ballroom to have a dance or two: can you do the cotillon?"
She swept her away to the lights and music again, to fresh vexation of spirit that self-forgetfulness for a time had made less keen.
In the midst of a waltz with her odious dinner companion Nell caught sight of her so-called hostess, who had followed her daughter back to the room. ”

“ Browne, and her voice also was very low, and a little unsteady with tears, "she was fortunit, mothers had oughter die when their childers is little and loves them. When childers is growed up mothers is only in the way."
Nellie stretched out her young hand and stroked the poor old fat one that was tremblingly smoothing imaginary creases out of the sofa seat. "Why, I would give all the world if my mother were alive," she said, with eager hurrying lips, "and Meg and Pip would,—all of us, dear Mrs. Browne. I think it is just when we are grown up we love mothers best, and want them most." ”

“ When she told of the kiss by the staircase window, she broke down a little; but he slipped his arm round her waist, and she shed her tears on his coat sleeve,—how Bunty would have stared! She showed the dirty scrap of paper, and he read it thoughtfully.
“If only he had never told a lie before,” he said, “then perhaps——”
Oh, if only she could have flung back her head and said, “He has never told a lie in his life, sir; never—never!” ”

“ Then she leaned a little more towards the pretty dressmaker.
"Miss Jones, he is such a boy, poor Philip. Since you love him so much, how can you bear to spoil his future?"
"'MISS JONES, HE IS SUCH A BOY, POOR PHILIP.'" Miss Jones lifted her eyes and bridled a little.
"Of course, I knew you wouldn't think me good enough," she said.
"But," said Meg simply, "how could I think so? I do not know you. What I mean is, marriage with any one till he is older would be ruin to him. Surely you must see the unhappiness it would bring upon you both. In the first place, what could you live upon?" ”