The Daisy Chain, or Aspirations

by Шарлотта Мэри Йондж

  "I will,"said Ethel.

  "And please tell her that I am afraid I may forget, and take upon me, as if I were still lady of the house. Tell her I do not mean it, and I hope that she will check it."

  "I think there is no fear of her forgetting that," said Ethel, regretting the words before they were out of her mouth.

  "I hope I shall not," said Meta. "If I do, I shall drive myself away to stay with Aunt Leonora, and I don't want to do that at all. So please to make Flora understand that she is head, and I am ready to be hand and foot;" and Meta's bright smile shone out, with the pleasure of a fresh and loving service.

  Ethel understood the force of her father's words, that it was a brave, vigorous spirit.

  Dr. May came back with George, and stayed to dinner, after which he talked over business with Flora, whose sagacity continually amazed him, and who undertook to make her husband understand, and do what was needed.

  Meta meanwhile cross-questioned her brother on the pretty village by the Thames, of which she had a fond, childish remembrance, and heard from him of the numerous kind messages from all her relations. There were various invitations, but George repeated them unwillingly.

  "You won't go, Meta," he said. "It would be a horrid nuisance to part with you."

  "As long as you think so, dear George. When I am in your way, or Flora's--"

  "That will never be! I say, Flora, will she ever be in our way?"

  "No, indeed! Meta and I understand that," said Flora, looking up. "Well, I suppose Bruce can't be trusted to value the books and prints."

  Dr. May thought it a great relief that Meta had a home with Flora, for, as he said to Ethel as they went home together, "Certainly, except Lord Cosham, I never saw such an unpresentable crew as their relations. You should have heard the boys afterwards! There was Master Tom turning up his Eton nose at them, and pronouncing that there never were such a set of snobs, and Norman taking him to task as I never heard him do before--telling him that he would never have urged his going to Eton, if he had thought it would make him despise respectable folks, probably better than himself, and that this was the last time in the world for such observations--whereat poor Tommy was quite annihilated; for a word from Norman goes further with him than a lecture from any one else."

  "Well, I think Norman was right as to the unfitness of the time."

  "So he was. But we had a good deal of them, waiting in the inn parlour. People make incongruities when they will have such things done in state. It could not be helped here, to be sure; but I always feel, at a grand undertaker's display like this, that, except the service itself, there is little to give peace or soothing. I hate what makes a talk! Better be little folk."

  "One would rather think of our own dear cloister, and those who cared so much," said Ethel.

  "Ah! you were happy to be there!" said Dr. May. "But it all comes to the same." Pausing, he looked from the window, then signed to Ethel to do the same--Orion glittered in the darkness.

  "One may sleep sound without the lullaby," said Dr. May, "and the waves--"

  "Oh! don't, papa. You don't give up hope!"

  "I believe we ought, Ethel. Don't tell her, but I went to the Admirality to-day."

  "And what did you hear there?"

  "Great cause for fear--but they do not give up. My poor Margaret! But those stars tell us they are in the same Hand."

  CHAPTER XIII.

  Shall I sit alone in my chamber, And set the chairs by the wall, While you sit with lords and princes, Yet have not a thought at all? Shall I sit alone in my chamber, And duly the table lay, Whilst you stand up in the diet, And have not a word to say?--Old Danish Ballad.

  "Oh, Norman, are you come already?" exclaimed Margaret, as her brother opened the door, bringing in with him the crisp breath of December.

  "Yes, I came away directly after collections. How are you, Margaret?"

  "Pretty brave, thank you;" but the brother and sister both read on each other's features that the additional three months of suspense had told. There were traces of toil and study on Norman's brow; the sunken look about his eyes, and the dejected outline of his cheek, Margaret knew betokened discouragement; and though her mild serenity was not changed, she was almost transparently thin and pale. They had long ago left off asking whether there were tidings, and seldom was the subject adverted to, though the whole family seemed to be living beneath a dark shadow.

  "How is Flora?" he next asked.

  "Going on beautifully, except that papa thinks she does too much in every way. She declares that she shall bring the baby to show me in another week, but I don't think it will be allowed."

  "And the little lady prospers?"

  "Capitally, though I get rather contradictory reports of her. First, papa declared her something surpassing--exactly like Flora, and so I suppose she is; but Ethel and Meta will say nothing for her beauty, and Blanche calls her a fright. But papa is her devoted admirer--he does so enjoy having a sort of property again in a baby!"

  "And George Rivers?" said Norman, smiling.

  "Poor George! he is very proud of her in his own way. He has just been here with a note from Flora, and actually talked! Between her and the election, he is wonderfully brilliant."

  "The election? Has Mr. Esdaile resigned?"

  "Have you not heard? He intends it, and George himself is going to stand. The only danger is that Sir Henry Walkinghame should think of it."

  "Rivers in Parliament! Well, sound men are wanted."

  "Fancy Flora, our member's wife. How well she will become her position."

  "How soon is it likely to be?"

  "Quickly, I fancy. Dr. Spencer, who knows all kinds of news (papa says he makes a scientific study of gossip, as a new branch of comparative anatomy), found out from the Clevelands that Mr. Esdaile meant to retire, and happened to mention it the last time that Flora came to see me. It was like firing a train. You would have wondered to see how it excited her, who usually shows her feelings so little. She has been so much occupied with it, and so anxious that George should be ready to take the field at once, that papa was afraid of its hurting her, and Ethel comes home declaring that the election is more to her than her baby."

  "Ethel is apt to be a little hard on Flora. They are too unlike to understand each other."

  "Ethel is to be godmother though, and Flora means to ask Mr. Ogilvie to come and stand."

  "I think he will be gone abroad, or I should have asked him to fulfil his old promise of coming to us."

  "I believe he must be lodged here, if he should come. Flora will have her house full, for Lady Leonora is coming. The baby is to be called after her."

  "Indeed!" exclaimed Norman.

  "Yes; I thought it unnecessary, as she is not George's aunt, but Flora is grateful to her for much kindness, and she is coming to see Meta. I am afraid papa is a little hurt, that any name but one should have been chosen."

  "Has Meta been comfortable?"

  "Dear little thing! Every one says how beautifully she has behaved. She brought all her housekeeping books to Flora at once, and only begged to be made helpful in whatever way might be most convenient. She explained, what we never knew before, how she had the young maids in to read with her, and asked leave to go on. Very few could have been set aside so simply and sweetly in their own house."

  "Flora was sensible of it, I hope."

  "Oh, yes. She took the management of course, but Meta is charmed with her having the girls in from the village, in turn, to help in the scullery. They have begun family prayers too, and George makes the stablemen go to church--a matter which had been past Meta, as you may guess, though she had been a wonderful little manager, and Flora owned herself quite astonished."

  "I wonder only at her being astonished."

  "Meta owned to Ethel that what had been worst of all to her was the heart sinking, at finding herself able to choose her occupations, with no one to accommodate them to. But she would not give way--she set up more work for herself at the school, and has
been talking of giving singing lessons at Cocksmoor; and she forced herself to read, though it was an effort. She has been very happy lately in nursing Flora."

  "Is Ethel there?"

  "No; she is, as usual, at Cocksmoor. There are great councils about sending Cherry to be trained for her new school."

  "Would Flora be able to see me, if I were to ride over to the Grange?"

  "You may try; and, if papa is not there, I dare say she will."

  "At least, I shall see Meta, and she may judge. I want to see Rivers too, so I will ask if the bay is to be had. Ah! you have the Claude, I see."

  "Yes, it is too large for this room; but papa put it here that I might enjoy it, and it is almost a companion. The sky improves so in the sunset light."

  Norman was soon at Abbotstoke; and, as he drew his rein, Meta's bright face nodded to him from Flora's sitting-room window; and, as he passed the conservatory, the little person met him, with a summons, at once, to his sister.

  He found Flora on the sofa, with a table beside her, covered with notes and papers. She was sitting up writing; and, though somewhat pale, was very smiling and animated.

  "Norman, how kind to come to me the first thing!"

  "Margaret encouraged me to try whether you would be visible."

  "They want to make a regular prisoner of me," said Flora, laughing. "Papa is as bad as the old nurse! But he has not been here to-day, so I have had my own way. Did you meet George?"

  "No; but Margaret said he had been with her."

  "I wish he would come. We expect the second post to bring the news that Mr. Esdaile has accepted the Chiltern Hundreds. If he found it so, he meant to go and talk to Mr. Bramshaw; for, though he is so dull, we must make him agent."

  "Is there any danger of opposition?"

  "None at all, if we are soon enough in the field. Papa's name will secure us, and there is no one else on the right side to come forward, so that it is an absolute rescue of the seat."

  "It is the very moment when men of principle are most wanted," said Norman. "The questions of the day are no light matters; and it is an immense point to save Stoneborough from being represented by one of the Tomkins' set."

  "Exactly so," said Flora. "I should feel it a crime to say one word to deter George, at a time when every effort must be made to support the right cause. One must make sacrifices when the highest interests are at stake."

  Flora seemed to thrive upon her sacrifice--she had never appeared more brilliant and joyous. Her brother saw, in her, a Roman matron; and the ambition that was inherent in his nature, began to find compensation for being crushed, as far as regarded himself, by soaring for another. He eagerly answered that he fully agreed with her, and that she would never repent urging her husband to take on himself the duties incumbent on all who had the power.

  Highly gratified, she asked him to look at a copy of George's intended address, which was lying on the table. He approved of the tenor, but saw a few phrases susceptible of a better point. "Give it," she said, putting a pen into his hand; and he began to interline and erase her fair manuscript, talking earnestly, and working up himself and the address at the same time, till it had grown into a composition far superior to the merely sensible affair it had been. Eloquence and thought were now in the language, and substance--and Flora was delighted.

  "I have been very disrespectful to my niece all this time," said Norman, descending from the clouds of patriotism.

  "I do not mean to inflict her mercilessly on her relations," said Flora, "but I should like you to see her. She is so like Blanche."

  The little girl was brought in, and Flora made a very pretty young mother, as she held her in her arms, with so much graceful pride. Norman was perfectly entranced--he had never seen his sister so charming or so admirable, between her delight in her infant, and her self-devotion to the good of her husband and her country--acting so wisely, and speaking so considerately; and praising her dear Meta with so much warmth. He would never have torn himself away, had not the nurse hinted that Mrs. Rivers had had too much excitement and fatigue already to-day; and, besides, he suspected that he might find Meta in the drawing-room, where he might discuss the whole with her, and judge for himself of her state of spirits.

  Flora's next visitor was her father, who came as the twilight was enhancing the comfortable red brightness of the fire. He was very happy in these visits--mother and child had both prospered so well, and it was quite a treat to be able to expend his tenderness on Flora. His little grandchild seemed to renew his own happy days, and he delighted to take her from her mother and fondle her. No sooner was the baby in his arms than Flora's hands were busy among the papers, and she begged him to ring for lights.

  "Not yet," he said. "Why can't you sit in the dark, and give yourself a little rest?"

  "I want you to hear George's address. Norman has been looking at it, and I hope you will not think it too strong," and she turned, so that the light might fall on the paper.

  "Let me see," said Dr. May, holding out his hand for it.

  "This is a rough copy, too much scratched for you to make out."

  She read it accordingly, and her father admired it exceedingly-- Norman's touches, above all; and Flora's reading had dovetailed all so neatly together that no one knew where the joins were. "I will copy it fairly," she said, "if you will show it to Dr. Spencer, and ask whether he thinks it too strong. Mr. Dodsley too; he would be more gratified if he saw it first, in private, and thought himself consulted."

  Dr. May was dismayed at seeing her take up her pen, make a desk of her blotting-book, and begin her copy by firelight.

  "Flora, my dear," he said, "this must not be. Have I not told you that you must be content to rest?"

  "I did not get up till ten o'clock, and have been lying here ever since."

  "But what has this head of yours been doing? Has it been resting for ten minutes together? Now I know what I am saying, Flora--I warn you, that if you will not give yourself needful quiet now, you will suffer for it by and by."

  Flora smiled, and said, "I thought I had been very good. But, what is to be done when one's wits will work, and there is work for them to do?"

  "Is not there work enough for them here?" said Dr. May, looking at the babe. "Your mother used to value such a retirement from care."

  Flora was silent for a minute, then said, "Mr. Esdaile should have put off his resignation to suit me. It is an unfortunate time for the election."

  "And you can't let the election alone?"

  She shook her head, and smiled a negative, as if she would, but that she was under a necessity.

  "My dear, if the election cannot go on without you, it had better not go on at all."

  She looked very much hurt, and turned away her head.

  Her father was grieved. "My dear," he added, "I know you desire to be of use, especially to George; but do you not believe that he would rather fail, than that you, or his child, should suffer?"

  No answer.

  "Does he stand by his own wish, or yours, Flora?"

  "He wishes it. It is his duty," said Flora, collecting her dignity.

  "I can say no more, except to beg him not to let you exert yourself."

  Accordingly, when George came home, the doctor read him a lecture on his wife's over-busy brain; and was listened to, as usual, with gratitude and deference. He professed that he only wished to do what was best for her, but she never would spare herself; and, going to her side, with his heavy, fond solicitude, he made her promise not to hurt herself, and she laughed and consented.

  The promise was easily given, for she did not believe she was hurting herself; and, as to giving up the election, or ceasing secretly to prompt George, that was absolutely out of the question. What could be a greater duty than to incite her husband to usefulness?"

  Moreover it was but proper to invite Meta's aunt and cousin to see her, and to project a few select dinners for their amusement and the gratification of her neighbours. It was only grateful and cousinl
y likewise, to ask the "Master of Glenbracken"; and as she saw the thrill of colour on Ethel's cheeks, at the sight of the address to the Honourable Norman Ogilvie, she thought herself the best of sisters. She even talked of Ogilvie as a second Christian name, but Meta observed that old Aunt Dorothy would call it Leonorar Rogilvie Rivers, and thus averted it, somewhat to Ethel's satisfaction.

  Ethel scolded herself many times for wondering whether Mr. Ogilvie would come. What was it to her? Suppose he should; suppose the rest. What a predicament! How unreasonable and conceited, even to think of such a thing, when her mind was made up. What could result, save tossings to and fro, a passing gratification set against infinite pain, and strife with her own heart and with her father's unselfishness! Had he but come before Flora's marriage! No; Ethel hated herself for the wish that arose for the moment. Far better he should keep away, if, perhaps, without the slightest inclination towards her, his mere name could stir up such a tumult--all, it might be, founded in vanity. Rebellious feelings and sense of tedium had once been subdued--why should they be roused again?

  The answer came. Norman Ogilvie was setting off for Italy, and regretted that he could not take Abbotstoke on his way. He desired his kind remembrances and warm Christmas wishes to all his cousins.

  If Ethel breathed more freely, there was a sense that tranquillity is uninteresting. It was, it must be confessed, a flat end to a romance, that all the permanent present effect was a certain softening, and a degree more attention to her appearance; and after all, this might, as Flora averred, be ascribed to the Paris outfit having taught her to wear clothes; as well as to that which had awakened the feminine element, and removed that sense of not being like other women, which sometimes hangs painfully about girls who have learned to think themselves plain or awkward.