Upon uncle's return, he brought us the unwelcome intelligence that Susan
had been suddenly sent for by her aged mother, who was ill, and that
consequently she could not come to us at present, but hoped to do so soon.
I will here add that she was prevented from acting upon that wish until
too late to be long of use to us at Rathfelder's Hotel. "And meanwhile,"
continued Uncle Rossiter, with a meaning smile, "Lotty must take care of
herself, and Mechie will take care of us all."
"How will you like that arrangement, Lotty?" asked aunt, giving one of her
gentle, anxious looks at Charlotte.
"Judging from past experience, and especially that of last night, I would
rather take care of myself than trust to sister Mechie to do it for me,
auntie," replied Charlotte, laughing.
I did not know to what experience she alluded, whether the troubles of our
walk, which she still persistently laid at my door, or my keeping her
awake when we went to bed.
"Why, what mischief has my little girl been at?" uncle said gayly.
Charlotte, seeing that her love of repartee was bringing her, as it too
often did, into trouble, extricated herself by exclaiming, "Oh,
by-the-bye, uncle, what about our clothes? Could you manage it with Susan
from home?"
"Oh yes," he said; one of the other servants had packed a box full for us,
and we should, he hoped, do very well.
Charlotte and I then went to our room to dress for dinner.
"As I walked by myself
I talked to myself,
And myself said to me,"
sang my sister, while combing her hair; but I will not conclude the verse,
for to those who know it already it is unnecessary to repeat it, and those
who do not lose nothing by their ignorance. To me the sentiment it
contains is so odious in its selfishness that although I feel certain
Charlotte had no unamiable motive in thus singing the really silly words,
yet her tone and manner grated harshly with a heart still aching under its
present load of afflictive knowledge. I was the more vexed, too, because
only a short time back I had told her of my conversation with aunt in the
garden and the painful confession it had elicited; and though certainly
surprised at the moment by her calm reception of an announcement which had
so greatly tried and distressed me, I inwardly laid it to her superior
firmness and self-control enabling her to take a more rational view of the
case. Her calmness often made me feel myself to be morbidly sensitive,
foolishly tender-hearted to a degree which was sometimes quite sinful.
There were occasions however—and this was one—in which I pined to see a
little less (I will honestly confess it) of the firm, upstanding spirit
and more of weeping sympathy. I cannot but say that Charlotte heard my sad
news with surprised feeling and evident regret; the colour deepened in her
cheek and her eyes filled with tears; but it hurt me keenly to see how
quickly she recovered from the stroke, making up her mind that, as she
expressed it, "what must be, must be, and all the grieving in the world
could not prevent it."
"If all the care in the world can, it shall," I exclaimed, passionately,
yielding for the first time to an irrepressible burst of agony which drew
upon me a lecture and a scolding, though not unkindly, from Charlotte.
"Such violent, uncontrolled sorrow, Mechie, proves a want of proper
submission to the will of God," she went on. "I really wonder at you! Does
not the Bible say, 'Have we received good at the hands of God, and shall
we not receive evil?' or words to that purport at least. We have had
nothing but good, as you know, all our lives through; and now the very
first affliction which is sent upon us excites in you a most unholy
feeling of opposition and expressions of murmuring and discontent."
And thus Charlotte continued until the subject, or rather her eloquence,
was exhausted, wholly forgetting how often some trifling inconvenience or
a few hours' illness had led her to bewail and lament over herself as one
of the most ill-used and unfortunate beings in the world, and how any
consolation or admonition on my part had been met by arguments as skilful
in support of her discontented feelings as those she now used in
condemning mine.
These thoughts and many others bearing upon the strange inconsistencies of
her character, which I never could quite understand, flashed through my
mind while Charlotte was carelessly singing the foregoing rhyme. That she
could sing at all and seem so sorrow free only two short hours after
hearing from me of our threatened bereavement astonished and pained me
beyond expression. And now to be proclaiming, even in joke, that "no one
cared for her, and therefore she had better take of herself," added so
strong a feeling of anger to my other sensations that I cried out in a
vehement tone: "Don't say that, Lotty! I can't bear to hear you. They are
unchristian, unholy, heartless words! And how do such sentiments agree
with what you said a short time ago—and very truly—that our whole life has
been a continuation of blessings? Oh, Lotty, Lotty, how I do wish you
would try, with the help of the Almighty, to cure yourself of that
inconsistency which makes you appear what I know you are not—heartless and
selfish!"
Charlotte had affected to be startled as first I spoke, and stared round
at me with wide-open eyes of assumed amazement.
"Why, Mechie, how you frightened me! Really, these violent outbursts of
indignation quite take away my breath. I must say I am very glad,
considering poor auntie's delicate state of health, that you always
reserve your heroics for my especial edification. Such sudden surprises
would be highly injurious to her."
"My heroics! Oh, Charlotte, when you see me really distressed is it kind
to speak in that sneering way?" I said, warmly, and bitter tears filled my
eyes.
"Dear me, Mechie! do not be so silly; you know I do not mean to be
ill-natured."
"I know you do not mean to be unkind in any way, dear Lotty, and it vexes
me the more to hear you repeat as if you were in earnest such selfish
words as you sang just now."
"Oh, now you are giving me credit for too much or too little, whichever it
is," answered Charlotte in a more serious tone than she had yet spoken and
again resuming her hair dressing. "I am not at all sure that I did not
quite sympathize with the feeling of the author—indeed, that I do not do
so now; at any rate, a sensation closely akin to the sentiment so
beautifully expressed in that poetic verse filled my heart and thereupon
overflowed my lips," she said, laughing a little.
"Oh, Lotty!"
"Now you just look here, Mechie, and say honestly whether I am not
perfectly excusable." In her unreflecting vehemence Charlotte evidently
quite overlooked the fact of there being any one else in the same boat
with herself. "Look here. I am brought away, without any will of mine
being consulted, from a home full of comforts and luxuries—which ours
certainly is; from attendance abundant and varied according to every
requirement; from agreeable society, suited to my tastes—Hester Martin,
Jane Burgess, Lucy Morgan, and the rest; from other pleasures and
advantages which I need not enumerate,—to a place destitute of every
attraction under the sun—a wild, dreary, frightful country, a great and
desolate hotel without a soul in it but ourselves; no companions, no
servants even, except the St. Helena girl and her sister who cook and do
the rooms and are as ugly and stupid and uncivilized as everything else
here. I declare, I would as soon ask one of them to dress me or get out my
clothes as I would one of those mountain monkeys of which uncle spoke.
Then, to bring matters to their worst, Susan, knowing well the
delectabilities of this place and what was in store for her, wisely
provides against the evil and strikes work in time to save herself—"
"Her mother is ill, Lotty!"
"Yes, of course she is, and always will be when occasion requires. And so,
now, here I am, as I say, without any choice of my own, as uncomfortable
as I can possibly be, every act of others from first to last proving that
they care nothing for me; consequently and of necessity I must, as the
objectionable rhyme has it, 'look after myself.' In what way I am to do
it, however, in this wilderness, passes all my powers of devising. But
now, Miss Mechie, you must see that thinking these thoughts is the natural
result of such disagreeable circumstances, and naturally led to my singing
that verse which so instantly set your inflammable temper in a blaze, and
that so far from being to blame in anything I am exceedingly to be pitied,
in everything."
"But, Charlotte, is it possible that you have so forgotten or are
indifferent to what I told you of poor aunt? Do you not remember that it
is on her account that we are staying here?—that the change is doing her
good? Oh, Lotty, surely you would feel any sacrifice you could make
compensated for by even the slightest improvement in dear auntie's state
of health?"
"Oh, of course I should! I wonder you consider it necessary to ask such a
question, Mechie!" exclaimed Charlotte in a tone of warm indignation that
sent a comforting glow into my chilled heart. "But that is, in my opinion,
the silliest part of the business. Just think, seriously, Mechie, and you
must see as plainly as I do that she can get no good by staying in a place
like this. Remember the distance we are from Dr. Manfred. Uncle must of
course drive in every day to the bank, and fancy the distressing position
you and I would be in if during his absence aunt were to fall dangerously
ill, requiring instant medical advice, perhaps, and the doctor seven miles
away!"
Oh, if Charlotte had known what a thrill of pain her words would awaken in
my heart as they brought before my imagination with sudden vividness the
picture of her whom I loved better than all the world beside lying white
and still, patient and suffering, perhaps dying, on her pillow—had
Charlotte known it, she would not have spoken so carelessly.
"Lotty, you do not think her so ill as that, do you?" I faltered.
"So ill as what, you silly thing?" she answered, turning and looking at
me. "Why, how pale you are, Mechie! How can you be so absurd as to catch
up my words and misinterpret them in that hasty way? I don't know anything
about illness; how should I? I was always aware, of course, that aunt was
more or less delicate, but had no idea that she laboured under any really
serious disease until you told me; and all I meant to say was that, such
being the case, it is unwise for her to have placed herself in the
position she has done, and it might prove very distressing to us."
"Oh, I am so glad you meant nothing more, Lotty!" I answered, feeling
immensely relieved by this explanation. "You often see the truth much
quicker than I do, and the thought agonized me that perhaps you perceived
her to be worse than I suspected or than she is herself aware of. But,
Lotty," I continued, changing the too painful subject, "to return to what
you were before complaining of—the want of a lady's maid—can't I help you?
I will gladly dress you if you like, and get out your clothes if you will
just tell me always what you require."
"Well, unquestionably such an arrangement would render my disagreeable
position much more bearable to me until Susan comes," replied Charlotte,
condescendingly; "so thank you, Mechie; it is well thought of on your
part, and I very gladly accept your offer; for, between ourselves, if
there is one thing I dislike more than another it is trouble."
And yet, I thought, I have often seen Charlotte bestow an amount of time
and trouble on trifling matters in which pleasure was concerned sufficient
utterly to exhaust me, and she did not seem to feel it a bit.