Rosa Nouchette Carey

“ Langley told me so. I often think we are 'old men of the mountain' to ourselves. How one longs sometimes to throw off one's self and one's faults!"
"You have less than any one I know," returned Queenie, who had a warm admiration for the daring and generous-hearted girl.
"You are wrong," returned Cathy, humbly; "Mr. Logan knows me best. I do want to be true, as true as I know how to be. I think I hate conventional shams as much as he does; it is this want of truth in the world that appals one."
"And the lack of kindness," put in Queenie, who had seen the darker side of human nature. ”

“ I do think, seriously, that I have a larger capacity for living than other people. I have good health, that is one thing; my constitution is perfect; then I love work, I really and literally do, Cathy. Work braces one, it brings all one's faculties into play; work is rest; inaction, idleness; pleasure for the sake of pleasure, is simply paralysis of one's higher life, it is premature old age."
"I wish I felt as you do," was the half-envious answer; "there is nothing little about you, Queenie, Garth said so last night." ”

“ I have never been a good wife to Harry, and I never shall. I try to forget, but the effort is killing me. Oh, why did he not leave me in my old home, and not have doomed us both to this misery?"
"Hush! you are not yourself to-day! I cannot hear you talk any more in this way;" and Langley rose, pale and resolute. "Put yourself and your unhappiness aside, it is too late to talk of such things now; think only of the duty you owe to Harry and your little child." ”

“ Chester's own fault marrying the wrong woman," persisted Queenie, with a little heat.
Garth's loftiness and burst of eloquence did not move her in the least. His cool statement of facts was rank heresy in her eyes. What was it to her that hundreds of men had made matrimonial mistakes? In her woman's creed, that code of purity and innocence, it was a simple question of right and wrong. To love one woman and marry another, however expedient in a worldly point of view, was a sin for which there was no grace of forgiveness.
"Men make their own fate; it is for them to choose. ”

“ I don't like a young man with a history; from a child I never could bear riddles. Ted is quite fond of him, though. I believe half my dislike comes from his persisting in dressing like a broken-down undertaker; he only wants a white tie to make him complete." They were happily in the lane by this time, and Queenie could enjoy her laugh without scruple of conscience.
"Is this the vicarage, Cathy? but of course it is; I knew it from your description. You are a perfect word-painter; all your portraits are true to life."
"That means caricature." ”

“ Queenie had regained her brightness in a great measure. In spite of a certain dim fear that haunted the background of her memory, her life seemed full of a strange, sweet excitement. The buoyancy of youth was strong within her; the knowledge of her secret wealth gave an intoxicating flavor to everything. As she walked to and fro to her daily work, she felt like a disguised princess, like the heroine of some fairy story she had read once, spinning in her woollen garments among the simple peasant folk. "I like being a rich woman after all," she said to herself, "it is so amusing. ”

“ Queenie took off her pretty brown hat and bared her forehead to the breeze with a little gasp. "How nice it is to feel young and strong and free. You and I are free, Emmie; yes, free as this delicious wind," finished the young girl with a little quiver of ecstasy in her voice.
A thousand vague imaginations flitted across her mind as she sat watching the flying mile-stones, while Emmie, wearied out with excitement, slept with her head upon Queenie's shoulder. "I feel afraid of nothing to-day; I am sure I shall find work; I do not mind how humble or hard it is. ”

“ One wet evening, towards the end of November, Caleb Runciman stood at the window of his little parlor, straining his eyes wistfully into the darkness.
"A wild night," he muttered to himself more than once; "it is raining whole buckets-full, and blowing hard. She will never venture out with the child, and so careful as she is too, bless her dear little motherly heart. I may as well tell Molly to make the tea. Dear, dear, how contrary-wise things will happen sometimes," with which oracular remark the old man rubbed his hands ruefully together, and turned to the fire. ”

“ Queenie knew the royal road to learning lay through her pupils' hearts. She must love them, and teach them to love her; obedience would follow as a matter of course. All children were dear to her, for Emmie's sake. Now and then, through the buzz of voices droning through the repetition lessons, there would come before her a certain vivid memory, stabbing her with sudden, sharp pain—a dark garret haunted with shadows; a pale-faced child crouched on the window-seat, wrapped in an old red shawl, with great blue eyes dim with fear ”

“ Gertrude is an undemonstrative woman, one cannot tell how deeply she feels."
"And Harry is a demonstrative man, and ought to have a wife who understands and makes much of him, instead of one who frets and teases him from morning to night. It is no good talking to me," continued Cathy, with a burst of vindictiveness rather surprising from its suddenness, "I detest that woman, with her slim figure and dark eyes, and little would-be elegancies. She to be Harry's wife and the mother of Nan! Why I would not trust a pet dog to her tender mercies and small tempers." ”

“ Miss Faith seemed rapt in quiet happiness; Queenie was just a trifle absent and distracted.
Through the conservatory door she could catch sight of a pretty group. Dora sat in her little low chair, and Cathy had ensconced herself on the rug at her feet. Garth stood with his broad shoulders propped against the wooden mantel-piece, looking at them both. His face wore an amused expression; evidently he was well entertained.
"Do you think her pretty?" whispered Emmie, coming round to her sister's side. "She is like a picture, somehow; but I like your face best, Queenie, there is more in it." ”

“ Queenie made no comment; she simply walked in and laid her unconscious burthen at the governess's feet.
"Miss Marriott, good heavens! what does this mean?" and Miss Titheridge recoiled in absolute dismay.
"It means that Emmie is dead, and that Fraulein is her murderer!" returned Queenie in an awful voice. The poor thing really believed it for a moment.
"No, no," sobbed Cathy, sitting down on the floor and drawing the heavy head on to her lap; "she is not dead, she is living, breathing; some of you help me to revive her; it is cold and fright and hunger that has made her faint. ”

“ His laugh, too, was quite a surprise to Queenie when she heard it first; true, it was rather boyishly loud, but its delicious abandon of mirth was thoroughly infectious; none but Langley could ever hear it without joining in it. He would throw his head back, tossing back the wave of dark hair as he did so, and the strong, even, white teeth would shine under the moustache; while the pealing ha-ha would provoke corresponding mirth.
"It does one good to hear Garth Clayton laugh," Mr. Logan said once. "Only a man with a good conscience could laugh like that." ”

“ Let her mind her own parish."
"Hush, Cathy, be quiet; she will hear you," interposed Garth sharply, as he turned round to wave an adieu to the little figure in the porch. Dora stood with her hand shading her eyes, watching them until they were out of sight. She looked still more like a picture framed in roses, her straw hat hanging on her arm, and the sunset shining on her fair hair.
Garth turned round more than once, and then he resumed the subject somewhat irritably.
"What has Dora got in her head, I should like to know? she looks as if something does not please her. ”

“ You must make up for lost time, and live every moment thoroughly, as Garth and I do."
"That is just it; we don't half live our lives, we girls," replied Queenie dreamily; "half of us seem asleep; our faculties lie dormant, and get rusted just for want of use. Miss Titheridge hung round my neck like a mill-stone; she literally crushed and pulverized all the best parts of me. It is being born again; it is a sort of moral regeneration, this feeling of freedom, this—oh, how can I make you understand it all, Cathy!" ”

“ Cathy said, as she watched her, half curiously and half enviously; "when people look at you they will not notice what you wear I mean. I wish I knew where you learnt deportment, my dear Madam Dignity. There," as Queenie buttoned her old gloves with a resolute air, "I cannot even lend you my pretty new ones, they would be ever so much too large."
"Never mind," returned Queenie with a smile; "my plumes are homely, certainly, but they are not borrowed. Take care of Emmie for me, and wish me good luck, for I am continually leading the forlorn hope." ”

“ Chester is not long for this world. Stewart says so plainly, and she must be conscious of it herself. One can tell that there is trouble in store for that poor fellow."
"Yes, and she has begun to love him too late," replied Queenie. "All these years lost, and only to understand each other at the last; there does seem such a mystery in things, Mr. Clayton."
"Not at all; he has only married the wrong woman," returned Garth, coolly; "hundreds of men do that, and have to rue their mistake. You are only a girl, you do not know the world as we do," continued the young man, a little loftily. ”

“ Life pre-supposes movement, animation, sensation, coloring, plenty of work, but above all, movement; not sitting in a close room, putting in patches and listening to chapters of Physical Geography. Every one knows you are a saint, Miss Faith," continued Cathy, enthusiastically. "I know Garth thinks so. But, all the same, life means a little more than patches and dissertations on the Gulf Stream."
"You young things are so impetuous," returned poor Miss Faith with a tremulous smile; "perhaps at your age one may have felt the same. There is a sort of fever in young blood, I think. ”

“ Queenie fell in love with Miss Faith on the spot, as she told Cathy afterwards. Young as she was, she knew far more of the world than this woman of thirty-five. The unsophisticated freshness of the simple woman, her tender voice, her old-fashioned ways, and little quaint pedanteries, charmed the young governess, grown bitter with the hard edge of life. Before the day was out she learnt a good deal about "the Sisterhood," as Garth and Cathy always called the Evergreens, where the Palmers lived. ”

“ By-the-bye, how do you get on with Langley Clayton? she is one of the good sort too."
"I think she is one of the best women I ever met," was the enthusiastic reply; "she is almost perfection, so unselfish and so unobtrusive in everything she does."
"Yes; Langley is Langley; but she is a trifle too melancholy for my taste. I don't like people to go through life in a sort of 'patience on a monument' attitude. One suspects all manner of strange back-grounds, and then it is so provoking. Langley is Langley, of course, but I like Cathy best."
"Have you known them long, Miss Cunningham?" ”

“ Queenie would answer with loving falsehood, laying the burning face on her breast; and something of the intense mother-love, seemed really to pass into the girl's heart.
She was growing haggard and hollow-eyed under the strain of the long nursing. The doctor shook his head and remonstrated in vain, and Caleb's entreaties were equally unavailing. "You will be ill, Miss Queenie; every one says so. You are up every night unless Molly is here, and barely snatch an hour's sleep in the twenty-four; you are over-taxing your strength, and a breakdown will be the consequence." ”

“ Queenie entered upon her new duties with an ardor that would have surprised any one acquainted with the real state of the case. If a feeling of amusement sometimes crossed her mind at the incongruity between her present position and the heiress-ship she had refused to take up, it only added zest and flavor to her work.
Queenie Marriott was one of those women whose zeal was according to knowledge. She loved her work for its own sake. In her eyes it was invested with a meaning and dignity that redeemed it from its so-called drudgery, and placed it high in the ranks of honorable labor. ”

“ Dora's searching glance took in every detail—the well-gloved hands, the dainty French tie, the little brown hat with its pheasant's wing, all the finish and detail that marks the gentlewoman's taste.
"No, you are not much like Miss Drake," she replied coldly; and a little cloud of dissatisfaction and perplexity knitted her brow.
They both seemed relieved when Garth made his appearance with the waggonette. Dora at once went in search of the rest of the party. Miss Faith and Emmie joined them instantly, but Cathy still lingered. ”

“ I think I share Miss Faith's," returned the girl, a little ungraciously. She felt no pity for the bright-eyed, faded little woman, who made so much of her life, and hid away her sufferings bravely, much as the silk, patched coverlet hid the useless shrunken limbs.
She would not even allow to Cathy that she could have ever been pretty, as they walked home together through the summer rain.
"Her face does not attract me in the least, there is nothing in it; and then her cheek-bones are so high, and her curls are so thin and limp. ”

“ His white teeth gleamed with a bright happy smile under his dark moustache: but for all that his tone had a slight accent of condescension that made Queenie smile as she followed him.
"You are master here—Garth Clayton of Warstdale—and I am a poor little school-teacher, a nobody," thought the girl, with just a faint touch of rebellion, growing hot all at once.
"Stay, this is rough walking; let me give you some help," and he turned back and held out his hand. For a moment Queenie hesitated; it was her nature to be independent, and walk alone. ”

“ Queenie nodded and smiled as she bade her little sister good-bye, and trudged down the lane. The sun was shining brightly; a rose-laden wind blew freshly in her face; with the morning light courage and hope had returned; she felt half ashamed of her last night's sadness. Queenie was young, and life was strong within her. In youth happiness is a necessity, a second nature. When the heart is young it rebels fiercely against sorrow. To exist is to hope; to hope is to believe. ”