“Sister Lizzie, I want to talk to you. It is not your regular bed time
by an hour or more yet. Can you be real steady, and thoughtful, and
loving, for just a little while?”
“I can try, dear Brother Frank. If I fail, why, scold me,” said sweet
Lizzie Legare, as she went arm-in-arm with her brother back into the
house, after having seen Hattie and Mr. W---- off in the carriage.
“Well, we will go to your boudoir, Lizzie. I want to see you alone and
to ask your advice.”
So they went to the little gem of a room, carpeted in velvet, with
flowers in every corner, curtains of lace, chairs, ottomans, and a
_tete-a-tete_ all covered with damask silk, and there they sat down,
and Frank commenced with a sigh--a long and heavy sigh, and such a
woe-begone look that Lizzie demurely asked:
“Are you sick, dear brother?”
“No, but I’m worse off, Lizzie. I’m in love!”
“So am I.”
“I’m in love with Hattie Butler! There now!”
“So am I. There now!” and Lizzie laughed till tears ran from her eyes,
for she had imitated his desperate “there now” like an echo.
“It isn’t anything to laugh at. I never was more serious in my life,”
he said, rather tartly, for he thought she was making fun of him.
“Well, brother, you know I must either laugh or cry all the time. But,
seriously, if I was you I could not help loving that sweet, beautiful
girl, and I believe that, like you, I would forget that she was a poor
working girl. But, brother, what would the fellows in your club, the
fast, nobby fellows you are always talking to me about, say if you
married a shop-girl?”
Frank answered with a shiver--not a word did he speak. But he kept up a
terrible thinking, and Lizzie sat still and watched him.
At last he sprang to his feet.
“The fellows in the club can go to Halifax or anywhere else they want
to. If she’ll have me, and father will consent, I’ll marry her inside
of a week.”
“Inside of a church would be better, brother dear. But those two
provisos were well put in--the first especially. When a gentleman wants
to marry one of our sex, the first and most necessary thing to find out
is will she have him. And I don’t believe you have given her the first
hint on the subject.”
“No,” said Frank.
“Nor even taken the trouble to find out whether she either admires or
cares in the least for you?” continued Lizzie.
“That’s a fact.”
And Frank sighed while he made the admission.
“Don’t you think a little courting, as they call it, in this case would
be advisable before you talk of marrying a girl whom you have seen but
twice in your life?”
“Sis, you are a philosopher in petticoats.”
“Oh, Frank, aren’t you ashamed to say so.”
“No, sister, for it is the truth. You are learning me to be reasonable
in this matter, and I thank you for it. It proves the truth of the old
adage that two heads are better than one.”
“If one is a sheep’s head. Why didn’t you quote the entire saying,
Frank?”
“Because my little sister has a wise head, and though I often tease her
in my carelessness, I always go to her for advice when I can’t see my
own way clear. I shall go to bed, darling, with a cooler brain and a
lighter heart, and if Miss Butler comes often to our house to see Aunt
Louisa, I’ll do just the prettiest little bit of courting that you ever
saw done.”
“Good! It will be like a play to me.”
“Good-night, dear Lizzie.”
“Good-night, my darling brother.”
And thus for the night they parted.
Frank went into the library to ask the doctor, who was there with his
father, how his Aunt Louisa was doing.
He learned that she was better, and sleeping under the influence of an
opiate. The doctor asked of him, as he just had inquired of his father,
whether anything had occurred to particularly excite or agitate Mrs.
Emory when her attack came on.
But, as we know, neither father nor son had taken notice of what she
was doing or saying at the time, the scream from Lizzie’s lips, and the
exclamation from Miss Butler, being the first warning that they had
when the lady fainted.
“I will be here early in the morning,” said the doctor, as he arose to
take his leave.