fight we should have." And she could hardly refrain fromloud laughter at the thought. When she had got her frock on she satdown, and laying her arm over the fat pocket asked Jane to touch upher curls: and while this operation was going on she began to talk tothe nurse.
"Nurse, should you think it a very nice thing to go to a dinner partyand sit in chairs all round a large room, where the coloured coversare taken away and everything looks very gay, and so tidy, nobody isallowed to do anything but smile, and talk, and wear white kidgloves?"
"Very nice, Miss, it's so like a lady," was the Nurse's ready reply.
"Well then, I don't think it's nice at all, Nurse--I think it's verynasty and stupid."
"Dear, Miss Hermione, how you do talk; I hope you won't tell theladies so when you get down stairs."
"Oh dear no, that would be rude, and it's wrong to be rude, but totell you the truth I don't know what I shall do when I grow up if I amobliged to be so dull as that is, very often."
"Goodness, Miss Hermione, to hear you talk one would think you'dbetter be a housemaid at once, instead of a lady with nothing to do."
"Nurse, I should see no objection to be a housemaid at all, only thatI am learning so many things that wouldn't suit a housemaid; butwithout being a housemaid there are many pleasanter things to do thanto sit in that stupid sort of way. I like the room when all Papa'sbooks and papers are about, and when he is scribbling away so busy,and when Mamma has got her microscope out looking at seaweeds orcuriosities. I have a chance then myself. I don't like ladies who saynothing but 'Pretty little dear, what a nice colour she has,' just toplease Mamma."
What Nurse in England could be expected to enter into so philosophicalan investigation of the habits of society?
Hermione's did nothing but assure her it was time to be off, and sheonly hoped she would sit still and talk prettily, and never troubleher head whether it was stupid or not.
When Hermione got into the drawing room and saw the company seated asshe had described to her Nurse, she felt very much disposed to laughagain, but made an effort and composed herself. Still her face wasbeaming with mirth and fun, and when some ladies said "What a happylooking little girl," they were quite sincere. That sort of face tooworked wonders, and her Mamma's friends liked her much and talkedpleasantly to her, and she was pleased and happy and quite forgot theball of worsted, as well as the ladies' white kid gloves. A young ladyhowever who had her arm round Hermione's waist and was playing withher, suddenly felt the round protuberance in her pocket. "Ah youlittle rogue, what have you here?" "Its a secret," cried Hermione. "Ithink I can unravel your mysterious secret, little girl, you are afavourite with the housekeeper," added she, whispering in Hermione'sear, "and she has just given you an orange."
"You are a very bad guesser of secrets," whispered Hermione inreturn. "It's no such thing!"--"Then it's an apple." "No, nor anapple."--"Then it's a peach, and your new frock will be spoilt." "Noit isn't a peach either, and it's a secret." The young lady loved fun,and a playful struggle ensued between her and Hermione; in the courseof which the large grey worsted ball and its long ravelled tail weredrawn from the little pocket.
Hermione had now to tell the history of the ball, which she didnaturally and honestly, but when she added, quite seriously, that sheintended, when they had done talking to her, to go behind her Mamma'schair and finish winding it up, you may guess how they laughed.
"Come here, my little dear, and let me look at you," cried an elderlylady in spectacles, putting out her hand and laying hold ofHermione's. "Why what an industrious little soul you must be! aperfect pattern! There now! you may go behind my chair and finish yourball of worsted; nobody wants to talk to you any longer."
This old lady was rather crabbed, and had not quite believed Hermionesincere, so she did this to try her, and expected to see her pout andrefuse. To her surprize, Hermione only said "Oh thank you, ma'am,"with a quite smiling face, and going behind the chair, sat down on thefloor to her worsted. For a few moments the old lady kept thinking "Itwon't last long: she'll soon be glad of an excuse to come out:" but nosuch thing happened; and just what Hermione expected did happen. Theladies fell to talking among themselves, and in a very short time thepresence of the little girl was quite forgotten, even by the old lady,who was handed out to dinner, without once remembering whom she hadleft behind her chair.
Hermione stayed in the room till her task was over, and then rushed upstairs to the nursery, and stopping at the door, half opened it androlled the great grey worsted ball so cleverly in, that it hit the oldNurse's foot as she sat (once more rocking the baby) over the fire."Goodness, bless me! what ever is that?" Then, spying a laughing faceat the door, "Oh dear heart, it's you I declare, Miss Hermione! willyou never leave off waking the baby? I thought a great black dog waslaying hold of my foot."
"Nurse," said Hermione, "your baby is always and always going tosleep; why doesn't he go, and then I could have a bit of fun? Youdon't know where I finished winding the worsted ball!"
"Why goodness me, Miss Hermione, where?"
"Down in the drawing-room among all the fine ladies; so good night!"and off she ran to avoid further explanation. A few words with herGoverness; a sober time of evening prayer; and the happy child laidher head on her pillow, and needed no Fairy wand to lull her to sleep.She had been some time with her Governess in the morning before herMamma coming to her there, heard a loud discussion going on within.The voices, however, were those of good-humour. "Hermione," said herMother, "I am come to say that your Governess told me yesterday youhad been so very good for a long time over all that you have had todo, that I have arranged for your having a holiday and a treat to-day,and several of your young friends are coming to see you. Among them isAurora, the granddaughter of the old lady in spectacles, who, justbefore she was going away at night, recollected you, and began to lookfor you behind her chair."
"Oh what a goose, Mamma!" "No, not a goose, my dear--only an oddity,but a very kind one too--for she desired me to find out whether youreally did roll up the whole of the ravelled worsted last night; and_if_ you really persevered till it was finished, I have something togive you from her, but not otherwise. How was it?" "Oh, it's finished,Mamma; ask Nurse; for when I rolled it against her foot last night,she took it for a great black dog." "Well then, I suppose this isyours, Hermione; but, I must say, I never knew a gold thimble earnedso easily." Yes, dear little readers, it was a pretty gold thimble,and round the bottom of it there was a rim of white enamel, and on theenamel were gold letters.
"L'industrie ajoute a la beaute."
"Mamma," said Hermione, looking at it in delight, as she found itexactly fitted her finger, "it's lovely; but, do you know, I think theold lady ought to have given it to her granddaughter, Aurora, withsuch a motto." "My dear, she has had it, she told me, some months inher pocket secretly, for the purpose you mention, but she cannot eversatisfy herself that Aurora has got the spirit of real industry inher, and to bribe her to _earn_ the thimble is not her object, so yousee it has accidentally fallen to your share."
And as she said this, Hermione's mother turned round to leave theroom; but before she had reached the door, her little girl stoppedher--"Mamma, do turn back."
"What is the matter, Hermione?"
"I've something I want to say to you."
"I am all attention, my dear, particularly as your face looks sounusually grave."
"Why, you and my Governess are always calling me _good_ for doing mylessons well, and now you are rewarding me for being _good_ and allthat, and I don't see that I am good at all."
"Upon my word this is a very serious matter, Hermione; who or what hasput this into your head?"
"I read in a serious book lately, that nobody could be good withoutpractising self-denial; and that, to be really good, one must eitherdo something that one does _not_ like, or give up something that one_does_; so that I am quite sure I cannot be good and deserve a rewardwhen I do French and music and drawing and work well, because I am sovery fond of doing every thing I d
o do, that every thing is a pleasureto me. And there is no struggle to do what is tiresome and no otherwish to give up. The only time when I have to try to be good at all,is when I have to leave off one thing and go to another. That isalways a little disagreeable at first, but unfortunately thedisagreeableness goes off in a very few minutes, and I like the newemployment as well as the last. This is what I was talking about to myGoverness when you came, and she laughed so loud I felt quite vexed."
"My dear Hermione," said her Mamma, "you have quite misapplied whatyou have read in the book. Self-denial is always required of us, whenwe feel inclined to do any thing that is wrong, but it does not applyto any aptitude you may have for enjoying the occupations I require ofyou. That is only a piece of good fortune for you; for to many littlegirls, doing lessons is a very great act of self-denial, as they wantto be doing something else. But now, as you are so lucky in likingevery thing you do, you must practise your self-denial in some otherway."
"How, Mamma?"
"In not being vexed when your Governess laughs, and in not being in apassion with the cat next time he unravels your stocking."
Hermione blushed. "Oh, Mamma, I understand the difference now."
"But this is not all, Hermione."
"Well, Mamma?"
"Why, as you are so fortunate as to be always happy when employed, andas therefore there is no _goodness_ strictly speaking, in your doingyour business so cheerfully and well, you must do this, you must spendsome portion of time every day in making your energy of use to otherpeople, and then you will be doing active good if not practisingself-denial."
"Oh, Mamma, what a nice idea! Perhaps you will give me some needleworkto do for the poor women you give money to; and, besides, just now Ican do something actively useful and still a little reallydisagreeable,--really it is, Mamma,--what makes you laugh?"
"Your resolution to do something you don't like. What is it,Hermione?"
"To knit up again the stocking the cat pulled out. I quite dislike theidea."
"Then set to work by all means, Hermione. You will at least have thecomfort of 'beginning by a little aversion;' but I warn youbeforehand, not to set your heart upon the disagreeableness lastingvery long, and if you find yourself shortly, as happy as ever over thestocking, do not be puzzled and vexed any more, but thank God as I do,that, so far at least, you are spared one of the troubles of life. Thetrouble of an indolent, discontented mind."
An affectionate embrace was exchanged between Mother and Daughter; andthe latter, with the assistance of her Governess, recommenced theunlucky grey stocking, and was working assiduously at it when heryoung friends arrived.
It was a curious sight to the Fairies to see two of theirgod-daughters together, as they now did. But the conviction was forcedupon them, that, for the present at least, Hermione had the balance ofhappiness in her favour. Whatever their amusements were,--whetherlooking over curiosities, playing with dolls, or any of the numerousgames invented for the entertainment of the young, Hermione's wholeheart and attention were in the matter, and she was as much engrossedas over learning at other times, and quite happy. With poor Aurora itwas not so; the childishness of the play every now and then annoyedher; there was no food for her vanity, in playing with children; theycared nothing about her beauty; the gayest and most good-natured facehas always the most charms for them, and this did not suit Aurora atall, and ever and anon her thoughts wandered, and her wishes too.
For ever straining into the future!
"I cannot make out your Fairy gift at all, Ambrosia," said Euphrosyne,"and I begin to suspect you have not given her one."
"We are all growing philosophical, I perceive," said Ambrosia,smiling. "Who could think you would have guessed that my happy childhas had no Fairy gift at all. But she has, I assure you. What do yousay to the Philosopher's Stone? It is quite clear that me has gotsomething which TURNS EVERY THING SHE TOUCHES INTO GOLD."
* * * * *
What _is_ the Philosopher's Stone? I hear my little readers exclaim.There is no such thing, my dears, nor ever was; but the chymists inold times, who were very ignorant, and yet knew that many wonderfulthings had been done by the mixture of minerals and metals, and thecurious effects some had upon others, guessed that yet more wonderfulthings might be found out by searching, and they got into their headsthat it might be possible to find, or make, a stone that would havethe power of turning every thing it touched into gold. In the samemanner, the doctors of those times fancied there might be such a thingmade as a draught that would turn old people into young ones again.This was called "The Elixir of Life." But I do assure you these oldfellows never did discover either a Philosopher's Stone, or an Elixirof Life.
So this was only a joke of Ambrosia's.
Now to go on and finish my story. It was ten years more before theFairies revisited their Godchildren in the lower world, and this timethey were to decide who had given the best Fairy gift.
And I dare say you expect me to give you as long an account of theirvisits to the young ladies of twenty, as I did of their peeps at thelittle girls of ten. But I really do not think it worth while. I woulddo so indeed in a minute if there were anything quite fresh and new todescribe. But on the faith of a story-teller I assure you, it would be"the old story over again," only on an enlarged scale.
Did you ever look at any interesting object first with your naturaleyes, and then through a microscope or magnifying glass? If so, youwill remember that through the magnifying glass you saw the same thingagain, only much bigger.
In the same manner the ten years acted as a sort of magnifying glassover Aurora, Julia, and Hermione. Everything was the same, butincreased in size and made clearer and plainer.
Aurora's triumphant joy as she entered the ball-room as a beauty, wasmuch greater certainly than her pleasure at her Mamma's dinner party.But the weariness and anxiety afterwards were increased also. She wasstill getting away from our friend Time present, and forecasting intosome future delight. "The good time _coming_, Boys," was her, as wellas many other people's bugbear. She never could feel that (with God'sblessing) _the good time_ is always _come_.
The only time she ever thoroughly enjoyed was the moment of beingexcessively admired. But judge for yourselves how long that can last.Could you sit and look at a pretty picture for an hour together? No, Iknow you could not. You cannot think how short a time it takes to say"Dear me, what a beautiful girl!" and then, perhaps, up comes somebodywho addresses the admiring gazer on the subject of Lord John Russel'slast speech, and the "beautiful girl," so all important in her owneyes, is as entirely forgotten as if she had never been seen. Andthen, to let you into another secret, Aurora was by no means a veryentertaining companion: nobody _can_ be, with their heads full ofthemselves: and she had often the mortification, even in that scene ofher triumph, a ball-room, of feeing her admirers drop off, to amusethemselves with other people; less handsome perhaps, but moreinteresting than herself.
And so the Fairies, having accompanied her through a day of Triumphs,mixed with mortifications, followed by languors, unsettled by hopes offuture joy, clouded with anxieties that all but spoilt thosehopes:--came one and all to the conclusion that Aurora could not beconsidered as a model of human happiness.
Nor could they say much more for Julia. Perhaps, indeed, there is moreequanimity in the pleasures of a very rich person, than in those of avery beautiful one: but, oh dear, they are of such a mean sort! Still,there is a good deal of impertinent comfort in money I do admit. Liferolls on, upon such well oiled hinges! The rich say, "Do this," topeople around them; and the people, "do it." But the Fairies had nosympathy with such an _unnatural_ fault as the pride of wealth. Theysaw Julia reclining in one of those "lumbering things" they so muchdespised: and driving round the "dirty town" they so much disliked:and along a park a great deal too smoky for their taste: and theycould not understand the haughty glance of self-satisfaction withwhich she looked out upon the walking crowds she passed, or theaffected graciousness wi
th which she smiled upon the few whom shecondescended to recognize as acquaintances. They thought her verynaughty and very absurd for being conceited about such matters. Theyfollowed her to her Milliner's too, and there I assure you they hadnearly betrayed their presence by the uncontrollable fits of laughterthey fell into when she was trying on, or talking about, bonnets, headdresses, gowns, &c. with the affected Frenchwoman who showed them off.Julia cared for nothing because it was pretty or tasteful, but choseevery thing by its costliness and magnificence. Of course the millinerassured her that every thing she took a fancy to from its rarity, wasbecoming; and then, oh dear! how the Fairies were amused! for poorJulia looked downright ugly in some of the things she selected, andstill went away as self satisfied as ever, on the old grounds that thecostume was so expensive that none of her acquaintance could get onelike it. This was still her chief comfort! Euphrosyne actually shookher fist at her as she was going away, and she had the toothache forthe rest of the day, and was extremely cross to her husband inconsequence. For, by the way, Julia had married--and married anobleman--a man somewhat older than herself; but he and she had had asort of mutual conviction that riches and rank go very well together,and so they married; and
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