CROSSES.
AFTER this Christina went home, and Ada gradually resumed her old ways,
so far as they could be taken up without the one who had been the
moving spring of the house. There were times when she felt the misery
of being motherless was almost more than she could bear; times when
everything went wrong; when the children were cross, and there was no
one to settle the quarrels; when Nellie wished things done which she
considered unreasonable; when Arthur was wretched, and she could offer
no comfort; when Tom was suffering, and there was no one to appeal to
about him.
At these times Ada would chafe bitterly against the cruel blow which
had ruined her happiness, and she would add to the general discomfort
by going about with a cloud on her face, and irritation in her whole
manner.
Such days as these were hard to bear. Nellie at times well-nigh fainted
under their difficulty. But when things seemed at the worst, words
would come back to her, and the blessed Spirit would remind her: "When
my heart was overwhelmed within me, then Thou knewest my path;" and the
thought that God knew, and was ready to help, was sure consolation, and
Nellie took courage again.
"There cannot be a need greater than He can supply, dear," her father
said to her one day, when he found her mending a great heap of
stockings, and looking lonely and desolate.
She could only kiss his kind face, and go on with her work, blinded
with tears. Her dear, unselfish father!
But where Nellie could submit, and rest on the assurance of everlasting
love, Ada had to fight a hard battle, inch by inch; and in the
struggle, she grew older fast, and felt as if the days were years.
About a fortnight after Wilmot Elliot's first call, he came again.
This time it was in the evening, when they were all sitting together in
the drawing room. Arthur was reading aloud, and Dr. Arundel rested in
his armchair listening, or perhaps not listening, with his eyes closed.
When Wilmot was asked in, Dr. Arundel roused himself, and entered into
a pleasant conversation with the young fellow, and Nellie learnt more
about his avocations and doings in that hour's talk, than she had done
all the while she was at Shellford. More in that way, but not so much
in other ways, she thought.
Presently the conversation turned on the narrow escape they had all had
at the picnic, and Wilmot explained to them many things which Nellie
had never yet had the heart to tell them. Arthur was delighted to hear
it all, and the circle gathered round their visitor, eagerly asking
questions.
"Hope told me," said Wilmot, "that it would have been but a sorry
affair without Miss Arundel."
He looked across to where Nellie sat, so quiet and gentle, stitching
away at her work.
"That's always what our Nellie is!" exclaimed Arthur. "The best little
woman in the world."
"Hush, Arthur," said Nellie, looking pained; "you know you always think
too well of me."
"Do I, though?" he answered. "What should we do without you, I should
like to know?"
"You have not need to think," said Nellie, "as here I am."
Wilmot soon after this said he thought he had better go. He was pressed
to stay to supper, but replied that, if they would allow him, he would
come another day and do that.
"It is most delightful to be admitted into a family circle," he added,
as he shook hands with Dr. Arundel; "I have so few friends in London."
"We shall be pleased to see you whenever you can look in," answered
Dr. Arundel, feeling what a pleasant change it had been from his sad
thoughts, and thinking also what a nice friend Wilmot would be for
Arthur.
On the following Sunday, as Nellie, Arthur, and the little girls
returned from church in the evening, Wilmot joined them, having been to
their service.
"I wanted to see you for a few minutes," he said, coming close to
Nellie's side and speaking in a slightly lowered tone.
"Did you?" asked Nellie.
"Yes; I was a little disappointed the other night when I came. You said
you would be glad to see me."
"I said—," answered Nellie, hesitating.
"I remember every word. But you implied you would be glad to see me."
Nellie was silent. Oh, what a hard struggle it was not to answer in
commonplace phrase that she was glad! But her innate truthfulness
refused, and she said nothing.
Arthur, noticing that Mr. Elliot seemed to have something to say to
Nellie, joined his little sisters, and Wilmot went on—
"You know we were to be friends."
"I hope we shall be," she answered gently.
"Then you must be kind to me," he said.
She made no answer to this, and Netta ran up and told her it was
beginning to rain.
"I have felt the drops," said Nellie. "We must hurry home."
"I must say good-bye for to-day then," said Wilmot.
"Good-bye," said Nellie, holding out her hand.
"I shall come soon," he said; "for I cannot keep away."
Nellie raised her eyes at last and met his. "You must not be offended,"
she said very low; "but I am very busy at home, and my dear father has
only me."
He looked at her suddenly, and then pressing her hand warmly, turned
away.
"That's nonsense," he said to himself as he walked homewards, "perfect
nonsense. I'm not going to be forgotten because she is busy at home!"
[Illustration]