_LAURA'S SECRET._
POLLIE was fifteen, and life had flowed along peacefully as to outward
circumstances. But beneath the surface, there were currents and rocks
and hidden difficulties which no one guessed but herself.
From her earliest days, her strong will had set itself up in opposition
to her mother, and though at times her sweetness of disposition
conquered, life with her was indeed a hard struggle.
Her father, tender and wise as he was, pleaded with her in vain; or
if he succeeded in shewing her her duty for a little while, some
difficulty was sure shortly to arise, and then all her good intentions
flew to the winds, and Pollie was as far from heartfelt submission as
ever.
So she set out to visit her aunt Elizabeth with a clouded heart. Her
mother's preparations, kind and thoughtful as they were, gave her but
little pleasure, for her heart was sore and hard. If only she could
been have taken to her mother's heart with a forgiving hug, she thought
she could have gone in rags willingly!
So her father drove to the market-town and put her into the train under
care of the guard, to be set down at her aunt's station, nearly a
hundred miles off and halfway between her home and Exeter.
"Remember there's always the blessed Lord and Saviour, everywhere,"
were his last words, whispered as he kissed her in the train.
And Pollie set forth on her journey, and in due time arrived at her
destination.
It was three years since she had visited at her aunt's, and she did not
know the tall cousin who was standing on the platform waiting for her.
Laura, a pretty girl of eighteen, soon spied her, however, for Pollie
had not altered much since she had last seen her. She and Clara stepped
forward and claimed their country cousin, who looked quite shy when she
saw what fashionable young ladies were come to meet her.
"Here is the trap," said Clara. "Where is your box, Mary?"
Pollie did not know that her uncle had a trap. She began to be afraid
they would have got too grand for her.
"How you have grown, Mary," said her aunt as they sat at tea, "but you
have the same face. I should know you anywhere. When the girls have
smartened you up a bit, you will look quite as old as Clara."
Pollie bit her lips. She had thought her mother had done all that was
necessary for her, and in the remembrance of her thoughtful care,
she felt more tender towards her than she had ever done. She said to
herself that her mother would never have said such a thing as that to a
newly-come visitor.
A wave of home-sickness seized her, and she had much ado to keep back
her tears.
Tea was over at last, and Pollie made her escape.
"Come upstairs and unpack your things," said Clara. "I do love seeing
people's new things!"
Pollie murmured something of not having so very many things, but the
girls did not seem to hear. And presently all her clothes were spread
out on the bed, and her cousins were looking them over with such
remarks as "That will be for mornings—with a nice ribbon for her neck."
"That would be pretty fair for afternoons if that trimming were put on
better—I daresay we could do that. Well, what else have you got?"
"That is my best dress," said Pollie, hesitating. "Isn't it good
enough?"
"That," asked Laura, with an intonation of surprise that made Pollie's
cheeks burn. "Oh, I thought perhaps you had another in the tray of your
box."
"Never mind," said Clara presently, "they will do all right. Ma said
she should get Mary a dress if necessary. You see, Pollie, we go out
ever so much, and have to be nice. But these will do for common very
well."
Laura had turned away towards the glass, and was putting on a very
stylish hat.
"Is that yours?" asked Pollie, glad to leave the topic of her wardrobe
for that of her cousins. She wished heartily that she were back at the
mill, and could hear her mother's voice, saying in those quick tones,
"There's your father, Pollie, run and open the door!"
Instead came Laura's complacent answer—"Yes, of course it is. Do you
like it?"
"It is sweetly pretty," said Pollie admiringly, "only it looks almost
like a fashion-book."
"Do you think so?" asked Laura, gratified; then added with a giggle to
her sister, "That's what H. F. said yesterday."
"Who is H. F.?" asked Pollie.
"Oh, my dear, you don't know of course. H. F. is a new star that has
dawned on our horizon. You will see him all in good time—from afar—if
you keep your eyes open."
Pollie blushed, she hardly knew why. This seemed so different from the
way anyone talked at home.
"Hush!" said Clara. "Here's ma."
"Well, my dears," said Mrs. Brown, "what are you doing?"
"I am going to the Cleavers, ma," said Laura, "and Clara is going to
help Mary put away her things, and then they are going to take you out
if you care to go."
"I do not know that I do to-night. Clara can come down and read to me
while I finish that blouse for her."
"Oh, I don't want to read," said Clara, "it would be so dull. Besides,
I am going out, ma, such a lovely evening. If you want to read so
particularly, do not trouble about my blouse."
Mrs. Brown looked vexed. "Is that the way you do to your mother, Mary?"
she asked, as she listlessly turned over Pollie's dresses.
"I don't know, auntie," hesitated Pollie, "because I haven't anywhere
to go you know—"
"Not anywhere to go? Are you buried alive, child? You look rather like
it!"
"Ma," said Clara, "don't say that. Come, Pollie, I'll turn up your hair
for you, and see if I shan't smarten you up! That will be fun. And then
you and I will go out, and ma can read that old novel in peace."
As she spoke, she drew out the bow that tied Pollie's long plait, and
rapidly undid her beautiful shining braids.
"What a lot. Look, ma! Would you not give something if we girls had
such a head of hair?"
Mrs. Brown did not answer. She gave half a glance at her niece, and
then said suddenly, "I tell you what, if Clara is bent on going out, we
will go to-night and get you a dress for best, or a couple of dresses.
Then they can be made at once, and will be ready in a day or two."
"All right," said Clara, "I shan't be long over this. That is coming
splendidly. Now, what dress will you put on to go shopping with ma?
This best one is the only one that is fit."
Mrs. Brown had left the room, so had Laura.
"I say, Pollie, I'll tell you a secret, only you must keep as still as
still about it. That I know you can do. But if ma were to guess, she
would spoil all the fun."
Pollie was silent, debating whether she should receive the confidence
or not, and half afraid that stormy times were in front of her. Before
she could make any decision, Clara had gone on in a low tone—
"Laura is very much admired, as I daresay you can guess."
"She is very pretty—"
"And where we go they have a lot of folks round, and young men from
the town. We are going to have a picnic next week, and then you will
see some of them. But there is one above all the rest that Laura
favours and there is a little mystery about him which makes him doubly
interesting. He's been abroad a great deal, but he told Laura he had
never seen anyone to compare with her—"
"Does he come here?" asked Pollie innocently.
"Oh no, my dear. How green you are! Even if ma were to allow it, pa is
dreadfully strict, almost as bad as uncle at the mill, and he would
think Laura a great deal too young. Oh, no, it's our secret at present.
Time enough when—"
Clara paused, and Pollie looked up with an earnest gaze into her
cousin's face.
"I'm afraid it isn't right," she said slowly. "I wish you hadn't told
me—or, at least, I wish that Laura and you wouldn't do anything like
that."
"Like what?" asked Clara, drawing back a little. "Don't be
straight-laced, whatever you do, Pollie!"
"I didn't know I was," said Pollie.
"Of course you were! Would you have us bow to any young man we meet,
and say we must not speak to him on any account?"
Pollie felt very foolish, and did not know what to answer, while still
she felt that her favourite cousin had grown different since the year
before, when they had had such a happy time together at the mill.
"There! Now you look lovely," said Clara. "Just peep in the glass. Put
on this dress now, Mary, and I'll go and tell ma that we are nearly
ready."
So Pollie was left alone.
Oh for her father to tell her what was right and wrong. She felt all
mixed up, and so home-sick that she could willingly have packed her box
again and set off home that very minute.
She sat down on a chair by the window and swiped away two or three
scalding tears.
Why would not her dresses do, and why had her cousins glanced at each
other, as they lifted out the hat her mother had trimmed for her with
such care?
"Pollie, Pollie, where are you?" called Clara. "Ma is waiting, and she
is quite vexed we have been so long."
Mrs. Brown had a cloud on her brow. "Put on your other hat, will you,
Mary, my dear? As we are going shopping," she said, as Pollie ran down
into the hall.
For a moment Pollie paused, utter refusal in her heart and in her
eyes. Then courtesy to her aunt and hostess prevailed, and she turned
upstairs again slowly, thinking that this was the very hardest thing
she had ever had to do in all her life.
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