And so the untroubled days passed, till Mr Vane came home again. They
were glad to see him, and indeed made a jubilee of the day of his
return. But there was an unconfessed fear in the heart of each that a
change was at hand, and that their untroubled days were at an end.
But the holidays were over, and nothing was said about the girls' return
to Mrs Glencairn's. If Mrs Ascot had been among them, that would have
been settled long ago, but there was no one now eager to get them away,
and no one to make the necessary arrangements, except their father, and
so Tessie comforted herself with the thought that "there was always a
chance that he would forget all about it." Still she rejoiced with
trembling, and went softly through the house, and kept out of sight,
that he might not be unpleasantly reminded of his neglected duty. This
was not difficult to do, for their early breakfast was over before he
came down in the morning, and he did not return to dinner till the hour
at which the children took tea in their mother's parlour, and except
during his brief visit after dinner, there was little chance of his
seeing any of them. And when one week was safely passed, and then
another, Tessie began to think the danger of going back to school was
over.
Frederica had not shared her anxiety as far as being sent to Mrs
Glencairn's was concerned, and the possibility of going to England
involved so much more that would need consideration, and care, and
expense, that she was not much afraid that her father would decide upon
it at present. So she took no pains to keep out of the way, but, on the
contrary, assumed again the responsibility and dignity of housekeeper,
and wore her key-basket at her waist, and made grave suggestions about
housekeeping matters for his benefit. She tried to amuse him, too, on
such evenings as he did not go out after dinner, and had no one with
him, and she succeeded so well that he missed her greatly when she did
not come to him; and if it had not been for one unfortunate
circumstance, a quiet winter might have followed the pleasant summer,
and they might have all been at home together for a little longer.
One night Mr Vane told Frederica that there was on the next day to be a
grand review of troops at L--farm, and to her delight he promised to
take her with him. Unfortunately, however, as had happened before, the
promise of the night was forgotten in the morning. Frederica was
disappointed of course, and a little angry, but she recovered her good
temper immediately when Tessie suggested that she might go still, and
take them all with her. To be sure she could, and she congratulated
herself on her father's forgetfulness; for now the pleasure would be
doubled, and more than doubled; for not only Tessie and Selina could go,
but their little brothers as well. So Dixen, nothing loth, had the
carriage at the door in less time than usual. They did not even have
the thought of leaving their mother alone to mar the prospect of their
enjoyment; for Miss Grant, having given the boys a holiday, kindly
offered to stay with Mrs Vane till they all came home again.
It never came into their minds that they might be doing wrong, or that
their father might be displeased with them for venturing into such a
crowd, or they might have placed themselves in a less conspicuous
position, and at a greater distance from that part of the grounds where
many of the fashionable people of the town had stationed themselves. It
never occurred to them either, that while they found so much interest
and amusement in watching and commenting upon the people and the
equipages crowded so closely round them, others might find the same
interest in regarding them. Indeed, they made rather a remarkable
group, the young girls and their brothers, and old Dixen, and Jack and
Jill together, and it is not likely that Mr Vane and his daughter Mrs
Brandon, or the party of equestrians who were with them, would have
passed without observing them, even if little Hubert had not at the
sight of them called out,--
"Papa, papa, here we are! come this way, papa."
The little boy had clambered up on the high seat of the carriage beside
Dixen. Tessie was leaning over them, and Frederica was standing on the
low step of the carriage, eagerly describing to Selina all that was
going on around them. But it was Selina who was the central figure of
the group, to which all eyes turned. The younger girls were simply and
quietly dressed in proper school-girl fashion, but they had decked their
fair blind sister in beautiful and costly things; and her bright serene
face, and her long golden curls shading it, made a very lovely picture.
No one would have imagined that those clear sweet eyes were blind,
except that she sat so still and so unconscious of the looks that were
bent upon her.
"Hush, Hubert?" whispered Tessie. "Do not call again. Papa does not
look pleased."
He looked by no means pleased. Unfortunately for his good temper, he
did not hear the murmur of surprise and admiration that rose from some
of the party, because he was listening to Mrs Brandon, who was
saying,--
"How foolish and wrong, and what bad taste, for these girls to be here
alone! Papa, I am surprised that you should allow it! The horses are
not taken from the carriage. There will be an accident certainly."
Mr Vane laughed.
"With Jack and Jill! Hardly, while old Dixen is by them."
"But they ought not to have come without a gentleman to take care of
them. You should send them home."
"Through this crowd? They are safer where they are at present."
A movement in the throng of people permitted a nearer approach to the
carriage. Tessie, who had seen her father's face, seated herself to
watch him as he came near, but Frederica was still talking rapidly and
eagerly to Selina. She started as he touched her on the shoulder with
the end of his riding-whip, but she did not look at all as if she
expected to be reproved. She smiled and nodded gaily to him and Mrs
Brandon.
"You see we are all here, papa. I wish they would begin."
There was some delay in the bringing up of the soldiers. The crowd was
getting impatient, and moved to and fro about them; and in the movement,
some of Mr Vane's friends, having dismounted and given their horses
into safe keeping, came round the carriage, and, as Mr Vane whispered
to Mrs Brandon, there were soon gentlemen enough about them. Frederica
had seen most of them before, but they were not people that she cared
for, and she whispered to Selina that she was sadly afraid their
pleasure was to be spoiled. She greeted them politely, however, and
mentioned their names to Selina.
"But you need not mind them," added she, in a whisper. "They'll go away
directly, I daresay. Now the soldiers are ready to begin, and I will
tell you what they do."
And so she did. Standing on the seat where her sister sat, that she
might see the better, she described in a low rapid voice the marching
and countermarching, and all the movements of the men; and when she
became silent, Tessie spoke, and the boys sometimes broke eagerly in.
And through all, Selina listened and smiled with a face of such sweet
content, such seeming unconsciousness of misfortune or loss, that tears
came to the eyes of some that were looking on. Even her father saw her
wonderful beauty and sweetness, and her affliction, with a new sense of
surprise and pain, and sighed as he regarded her.
It grew tiresome at last to those who did not understand the movements
of the soldiers, or the skill and drill needed to ensure success in all
the wonderful evolutions through which they were put; and so, when at
length a clear space was made near the carriage, they began to speak of
going home.
"Mama will be getting anxious," said Selina softly to one who urged them
to stay longer.
"And there will be nothing more. It will be the same thing over and
over again," said Tessie. "There will be music, I suppose, and you will
like that, Lina."
"Still, if Hubert and Charlie are ready, I think we should go," said
Selina.
The boys were by no means ready to go, but their indignant outcry was
interrupted by their father.
"Now that the way is clear you must go," said he, "or you may get
entangled among the carriages and be hurt."
And then the misfortune of the day happened. Mrs Brandon, meaning to
be very kind, and meaning also to gratify the curiosity of some of her
friends, who had been expressing a wish to see more of her young
sisters, invited them all to luncheon before they should return home.
Frederica politely but promptly declined for them all.
"We said we should be home to dinner, and mama will be anxious," said
she.
"But the boys can tell her that you have stayed with me. Papa is
coming, and several others. She will not care."
"No, I suppose not, but we are tired, and it will be much nicer to visit
you some time when you are alone. Excuse me. It is quite impossible,"
added Frederica, as Mrs Brandon continued to urge her.
Her last words were spoken in an air and manner "not in the least like
Fred," her father said to himself, as he listened. But Mrs Brandon
thought it was exactly like Fred--"the naughty little thing." She had
more than once noticed this disagreeable manner in her intercourse with
her younger sister, and had spoken of it to her father, and to him she
now turned her disapproving eyes. So Mr Vane interposed.
"Nonsense, Fred! What difference can it make? Stay of course--not you,
Tessie, nor the boys! Dixen can come for you later. Now, Dixen, take
care."
Frederica was indignant, and said quite enough to her sisters on their
way down, but to her father she only said, "Very well, papa," with an
air of offended dignity that made him laugh.
"However," added she, when she had said all that was necessary, and a
little more, "I may as well make the best of it, and amuse myself as
well as I can."
So when Mrs Brandon arrived a little while afterwards, they found her
walking about on the lawn, quite ready to amuse, and to be amused. But
her troubles were not over. It was Selina especially, it seemed, whom
Mrs Brandon had wished to stay, and she had gone home. There were many
regrets expressed by her and by the others. They had been so desirous
to know Miss Vane, and to hear her sing, and so on.
"It is a pity you were not more explicit, Caroline," said Frederica.
"However, it would have made no difference. Selina's staying was quite
out of the question."
"I am sure I can't understand why," said Mrs Brandon.
"Can you not? It is quite true, however."
Mrs Brandon turned her eyes on her father, who had just entered the
room. It must be acknowledged that Fred was not behaving well. Her
manner was by no means respectful to her elder sister, and her tones and
the flash of her eye showed that she was out of temper.
"What is the matter, Fred?" asked her father.
"We are all disappointed that Miss Vane did not stay," said some one,
with the kind intention of smoothing matters for Fred.
"Fred thinks Selina would not have enjoyed it," said Mrs Brandon.
"Mama would not have wished it," said Frederica, walking away, as though
there was nothing more to be said.
Of course, it was all a failure after this, as far as Frederica was
concerned. At another time she would have looked and listened, and
amused herself with all that was going on. But she felt cross; and what
was worse, she knew that all these people must be thinking her very rude
and ill-bred. No one noticed her much nor spoke to her, and though she
knew she deserved it, she was indignant at being treated like an
ill-tempered child. Especially was she indignant with her sister for
bringing all this upon her. So at the first possible moment she excused
herself from the table, at which the rest seemed inclined to linger, and
went out into the garden.
Her ill-temper and discomfort did not trouble her after that. She
forgot it utterly; for here she found the nurse with her sister's
beautiful baby, and every trace of annoyance vanished at the sight.
Here her sister found her in a little while. She had come in search of
her, intending to speak a few serious words to her about her foolish
conduct. But when she saw the girl's bright face as she kneeled on the
grass, clasping and kissing the pretty boy, she too forgot her vexation.
"O Caroline I was there ever so lovely a child before? How happy you
must be?"
And then she wondered over him--his beauty, his murmuring and cooing,
and pretty baby ways, and her delight was perfect, when he refused to go
to his mother from her arms. Was there ever such a triumph? The baby
was a very pretty baby, and the young girl's delight over him was pretty
too, and in the midst of it Dixen came for her, and Mrs Brandon had no
time for the serious words which she felt it to be her duty to speak,
"for poor papa's sake." But she set her conscience at rest by saying
all the more to papa himself, and the immediate result of her advice was
that Tessie was sent at once back to Mrs Glencairn's, and Frederica was
advised to prepare herself to be sent elsewhere very soon.
Poor Tessie thought it rather hard that she should be made to suffer for
Fred's faults. That was the way she put the matter to herself, but it
was a very good thing for her to be sent to school again. She begged
hard to go with her sister, wherever she should be sent, but this could
not be; and her dissatisfaction did not continue long after she was
fairly back at school, for Mrs Glencairn's house was a very good place
to be in, and Tessie was reasonable, and by-and-by content.
As for Frederica, it would have been as well for her if she had been
sent to Mrs Glencairn's too, for she and her mother and Selina made
themselves unhappy in their uncertainty as to where she was to be sent.
But when week after week passed, and nothing more was said on the
subject, they began to take courage again, and to hope that she might
not be sent away at all. And she was not, but it would have been much
better for her if she had.
For this was not a profitable winter to Frederica. They had a happy
month or two, she and her mother and Selina; they lived the same
uneventful quiet life that the summer had brought them, and every little
pleasure they enjoyed was doubled to Mrs Vane and Selina, because
Frederica enjoyed it with them. They went on faithfully and regularly
with their reading of the Bible, and for a time Frederica fulfilled her
promise; and went over her old school lessons with her sister, and took
great pride and pleasure in the progress that she made. They practised
their music together, and a teacher came to give them lessons; and
Frederica assured her father, that instead of losing her time, as Mrs
Brandon had declared, she had never been so well and so happily employed
as now. Whether he thought so too, or whether he was prevented by other
reasons besides indolence from deciding on a proper school for her,
could not be told, but the winter was nearly over before another word
was said about her going away.
It was near Christmas time that Frederica began to be a good deal at the
house of her half-sister, Mrs Brandon, and to go with her a good deal
to other houses, and then the tenor of her life for a time was quite
changed. It began very naturally and simply. There was a children's
party at Mrs Brandon's house, to celebrate the first birthday of her
little boy. Frederica was asked, and her brothers, and they all went
and enjoyed it. Frederica threw herself into the pleasure of amusing
the little people with all her heart. It was a delight to her, and her
success was entire. The enjoyment was perfect to them all. The evening
passed without one of the unfortunate incidents so likely to occur on
such occasions, and no child enjoyed it better than Frederica.
It was called a children's party, but there were many people there
besides children, and it is not surprising that the bright young girl,
"with the playfulness of a child and the sense of a woman," should
attract admiring attention. She threw herself so heartily and prettily
into the amusement of the little ones, they said to one another and to
Mrs Brandon. She was so clever and charming, and so unconscious of it.
A great many foolish things were said, and some of them were said to
Frederica. Of course she thought it all very agreeable, and showed
herself equal to the entertainment of grown people as well as children,
and enjoyed it all.
This "children's party" led to others, and to parties of grown people as
well, and by-and-by the character of these gay doings changed
altogether. The simple dresses and ornaments that had at first been
considered quite sufficient were laid aside for dresses of a different
kind. Her mother's long-neglected treasures of laces, and silks, and
other fine things, were turned over in search of materials for her
adornment, and even her jewel cases were examined, and certain of their
contents appropriated for the same purpose.
Frederica had always taken pride in knowing that Mrs Glencairn spoke of
her as "sensible" and as "a discreet young person," and she had been
very much in earnest to prove to her father and mother that Mrs
Glencairn was right. But notwithstanding her sense and her discretion,
no one will be surprised to hear that for a time she enjoyed greatly the
excitement and gaiety of her life. For though it is quite true that no
real and lasting happiness can be obtained in the pursuit of pleasures
such as these, yet it cannot be denied that to a young girl like
Frederica, the first experience of a life of this kind gives a delight
which seems real, and sweet, and satisfying, and which, in a certain
sense, is so while it lasts. And so she threw herself into all these
things with all her heart, and enjoyed them, without a thought that she
was in danger from such a life.
Her mother, remembering her own youth, her brief triumphs, and long
disappointments, sent her thoughts after her into those gay scenes with
vague but painful anxiety. But this always vanished in Frederica's
presence. If she made a feeble attempt now and then to remonstrate with
her, or with her father, against such constant gaiety, it was only
because the child was so young, and not at all because she thought such
a life of pleasure wrong in itself. She knew of no other kind of life
for the rich and well-born; and though she could not look forward to
such a life for her daughters without anxiety, yet she was incapable of
planning, or even of imagining, any other for them. If they all could
have remained together content with the quiet enjoyments that had come
to them in the past summer, while their father was away, she would have
sought no other life for them. But that was quite impossible, she
thought with a sigh.
There was no one to tell Frederica that she was in danger. All her
mother's fears were vague and indistinct. They seemed to her daughter,
and even to herself, when she spoke of them, to be nervous fancies,
natural enough in her state of illness and seclusion, a natural
shrinking from any possible cause of change or pain. And so they both
put away such thoughts, and the mother strove to take pleasure in the
many costly and beautiful things brought for her approval for the
adornment of her daughter.
Even Selina listened happily to her sister's merry recitals of all she
saw and heard and enjoyed, and offered her soft touch to the rich and
delicate fabrics, to the laces and flowers and jewels that she wore,
without a thought of trouble or danger to the sister whom she loved so
well.
But Frederica was in danger all the same. She was in danger of losing
that sweet naturalness and girlish simplicity which even to the worldly
people with whom she mingled made her chief charm; she was in danger of
growing vain and frivolous and foolish, of forgetting all the serious
views of life that had so filled her thoughts, of ceasing to strive for,
or to value, a knowledge of those truths which were to bring such peace
and patience; such blessed hopes to her suffering mother, and such
happiness to them all. Nay, she was in danger even of neglecting her
mother and her blind sister, of giving up the sweet office so eagerly
coveted and claimed, of being their comforter and guardian, and of
living to herself and her own selfish enjoyment.
All this has happened to others who have given themselves up to a life
of worldly pleasure, and this must have been the end to Frederica, if
such a life had continued long.