The Daisy Chain, or Aspirations

by Шарлотта Мэри Йондж

  And here Mrs. Arnott's story began, of the note that reached her in the early morning with tidings that her nephew had been picked up by the mission-ship, and how she and her husband had hastened at once on board.

  "They sent me below to see a hero," she wrote. "What I saw was a scarecrow sort of likeness of you, dear Richard; but, when he opened his eyes, there was our Maggie smiling at me. I suppose he would not forgive me for telling how he sobbed and cried, when he had his arms round my neck, and his poor aching head on my shoulder. Poor fellow, he was very weak, and I believe he felt, for the moment, as if he had found his mother.

  "We brought him home with us, but when the next mail went, the fever was still so high, that I thought it would be only alarm to you to write, and I had not half a story either, though you may guess how proud I was of my nephew."

  Harry's troubles were all over from that time. He had thenceforth to recover under his aunt's motherly care, while talking endlessly over the home that she loved almost as well as he did. He was well more quickly than she had ventured to hope, and nothing could check his impatience to reach his home, not even the hopes of having his aunt for a companion. The very happiness he enjoyed with her only made him long the more ardently to be with his own family; and he had taken his leave of her, and of his dear David, and sailed by the first packet leaving Auckland.

  "I never knew what the old Great Bear was to me till I saw him again!" said Harry.

  It was late when the elders had finished all that was to be heard at present, and the clock reminded them that they must part.

  "And you go to-morrow?" sighed Margaret.

  "I must. Jennings has to go on to Portsmouth, and see after his son."

  "Oh, let me see Jennings!" exclaimed Margaret. "May I not, papa?"

  Richard, who had been making friends with Jennings, whenever he had not been needed by his sisters that afternoon, went to fetch him from the kitchen, where all the servants, and all their particular friends, were listening to the yarn that made them hold their heads higher, as belonging to Master Harry.

  Harry stepped forward, met Jennings, and said, aside, "My sister, Jennings; my sister that you have heard of."

  Dr. May had already seen the sailor, but he could not help addressing him again. "Come in; come in, and see my boy among us all. Without you, we never should have had him."

  "Make him come to me," said Margaret breathlessly, as the embarrassed sailor stood, sleeking down his hair; and, when he had advanced to her couch, she looked up in his face, and put her hand into his great brown one.

  "I could not help saying thank you," she said.

  "Mr. May, sir!" cried Jennings, almost crying, and looking round for Harry, as a sort of protector--"tell them, sir, please, it was only my duty--I could not do no less, and you knows it, sir," as if Harry had been making an accusation against him.

  "We know you could not," said Margaret, "and that is what we would thank you for, if we could. I know he--Mr. Ernescliffe--must have been much more at rest for leaving my brother with so kind a friend, and--"

  "Please, miss, don't say no more about it. Mr. Ernescliffe was as fine an officer as ever stepped a quarter-deck, and Mr. May here won't fall short of him; and was I to be after leaving the like of them to the mercy of the black fellows--that was not so bad neither? If it had only pleased God that we had brought them both back to you, miss; but, you see, a man can't be everything at once, and Mr. Ernescliffe was not so stout as his heart."

  "You did everything, we know--" began Dr. May.

  "'Twas a real pleasure," said Jennings hastily, "for two such real gentlemen as they was. Mr. May, sir, I beg your pardon if I say it to your face, never flinched, nor spoke a word of complaint, through it all; and, as to the other--"

  "Margaret cannot bear this," said Richard, coming near. "It is too much."

  The sailor shook his head, and was retreating, but Margaret signed him to come near again, and grasped his hand. Harry followed him out of the room, to arrange their journey, and presently returned.

  "He says he is glad he has seen Margaret; he says she is the right sort of stuff for Mr. Ernescliffe."

  Harry had not intended Margaret to hear, but she caught the words, smiled radiantly, and whispered, "I wish I may be!"

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  Margaret had borne the meeting much too well for her own good, and a wakeful night of palpitation was the consequence; but she would not allow any one to take it to heart, and declared that she should be ready to enjoy Harry by the time he should return, and meantime, she should dwell on the delight of his meeting Flora.

  No one had rested too soundly that night, and Dr. May had not been able to help looking in at his sleeping boy at five in the morning, to certify himself that he had not only figured his present bliss to himself, in his ten minutes' dream. And looking in again at half- past seven, he found Harry half dressed, with his arm round Mary; laughing, almost sobbing, over the treasures in his cupboard, which he had newly discovered in their fresh order.

  Dr. May looked like a new man that morning, with his brightened eye and bearing, as if there were a well-spring of joy within him, ready to brim over at once in tear and in smile, and finding an outlet in the praise and thanksgiving that his spirit chanted, and his face expressed, and in that sunny genial benevolence that must make all share his joy.

  He was going to run over half the town--every one would like to hear it from him; Ethel and Mary must go to the rest--the old women in the almshouses, where lived an old cook who used to be fond of Harry-- they should have a feast; all who were well enough in the hospital should have a tea-drinking; Dr. Hoxton had already granted a holiday to the school; every boy with whom they had any connection should come to dinner, and Edward Anderson should be asked to meet Harry on his return, because, poor fellow, he was so improved.

  Dr. May was in such a transport of kind-hearted schemes, that he was not easily made to hear that Harry had not a sixpence wherewith to reach London.

  Ethel, meanwhile, was standing beside her brother tendering to him some gold, as his last quarter.

  "How did you get it, Ethel? do you keep the purse?"

  "No, but papa took Cocksmoor in your stead, when--"

  "Nonsense, Ethel," said Harry; "I don't want it. Have I not all my pay and allowance for the whole time I was dead? And as to robbing Cocksmoor--"

  "Yes, keep it, Ethel," said her father; "do you think I would take it now, when if there were a thank-offering in the world. --And, by the bye, your Cooksmoor children must have something to remember this by--"

  Every one could have envied Norman, for travelling to London with Harry, but that he must proceed to Oxford in two days, when Harry would return to them. The station-master, thinking he could not do enough for the returned mariner, put the two brothers into the coupe, as if they had been a bridal couple, and they were very glad of the privacy, having, as yet, hardly spoken to each other, when Harry's attention was dispersed among so many.

  Norman asked many questions about the mission work in the southern hemisphere, and ended by telling his brother of his design, which met with Harry's hearty approbation.

  "That's right, old June. There's nothing they want so much, as such as you. How glad my aunt will be! Perhaps you will see David! Oh, if you were to go out to the Loyalty group!"

  "Very possibly I might," said Norman.

  "Tell them you are my brother, and how they will receive you! I can see the mop-heads they will dress in honour of you, and what a feast of pork and yams you will have to eat! But there is plenty of work among the Maoris for you--they want a clergyman terribly at the next village to my uncle's place. I say, Norman, it will go hard if I don't get a ship bound for the Pacific, and come and see you."

  "I shall reckon on you. That is, if I have not to stay to help my father."

  "To be sure," exclaimed Harry; "I thought you would have stayed at home, and married little Miss Rivers!"

  Thus broadly and boyishly did he plunge into
that most tender subject, making his brother start and wince, as if he had touched a wound.

  "Nonsense!" he cried, almost angrily.

  "Well! you used to seem very much smitten, but so, to be sure, were some of the Alcestes with the young ladies at Valparaiso. How we used to roast Owen about that Spanish Donna, and he was as bad at Sydney about the young lady whose father, we told him, was a convict, though he kept such a swell carriage. He had no peace about his father-in-law, the house-breaker! Don't I remember how you pinched her hand the night you were righted!"

  "You know nothing about it," said Norman shortly. "She is far beyond my reach."

  "A fine lady? Ha! Well, I should have thought you as good as Flora any day," said Harry indignantly.

  "She is what she always was," said Norman, anxious to silence him; "but it is unreasonable to think of it. She is all but engaged to Sir Henry Walkinghame."

  "Walkinghame!" cried the volatile sailor. "I have half a mind to send in my name to Flora as Miss Walkinghame!" and he laughed heartily over that adventure, ending, however, with a sigh, as he said, "It had nearly cost me a great deal! But tell me, Norman, how has that Meta, as they called her, turned out? I never saw anything prettier or nicer than she was that day of the Roman encampment, and I should be sorry if that fine fashionable aunt of hers, had made her stuck-up and disdainful."

  "No such thing," said Norman.

  "Ha!" said Harry to himself, "I see how it is! She has gone and made poor old June unhappy, with her scornful airs--a little impertinent puss!--I wonder Flora does not teach her better manners."

  Norman, meanwhile, as the train sped over roofs, and among chimneys, was reproaching himself for running into the fascination of her presence, and then recollecting that her situation, as well as his destiny, both guaranteed that they could meet only as friendly connections.

  No carriage awaited them at the station, which surprised Norman, till he recollected that the horses had probably been out all day, and it was eight o'clock. Going to Park Lane in a cab, the brothers were further surprised to find themselves evidently not expected. The butler came to speak to them, saying that Mr. and Mrs. Rivers were gone out to dinner, but would return, probably, at about eleven o'clock. He conducted them upstairs, Harry following his brother, in towering vexation and disappointment, trying to make him turn to hear that they would go directly--home--to Eton--anywhere--why would he go in at all?

  The door was opened, Mr. May was announced, and they were in a silk- lined boudoir, where a little slender figure in black started up, and came forward with outstretched hand.

  "Norman!" she cried, "how are you? Are you come on your way to Oxford?"

  "Has not Flora had Mary's letter?"

  "Yes, she said she had one. She was keeping it till she had time to read it."

  As she spoke, Meta had given her hand to Harry, as it was evidently expected; she raised her eyes to his face, and said, smiling' and blushing, "I am sure I ought to know you, but I am afraid I don't."

  "Look again," said Norman. "See if you have ever seen him before."

  Laughing, glancing, and casting down her eyes, she raised them with a sudden start of joy, but colouring more deeply, said, "Indeed, I cannot remember. I dare say I ought."

  "I think you see a likeness," said Norman.

  "Oh, yes, I see," she answered, faltering; but perceiving how bright were the looks of both, "No? Impossible! Yes, it is!"

  "Yes, it is," said both brothers with one voice. She clasped her hands, absolutely bounded with transport, then grasped both Harry's hands, and then Norman's, her whole countenance radiant with joy and sympathy beyond expression.

  "Dear, dear Dr. May!" was her first exclamation. "Oh, how happy you must all be! And Margaret?" She looked up at Norman, and came nearer. "Is not Mr. Ernescliffe come?" she asked softly, and trembling.

  "No," was the low answer, which Harry could not bear to hear, and therefore walked to the window. "No, Meta, but Margaret is much comforted about him. He died in great peace--in his arms"--as he signed towards his brother. And as Harry continued to gaze out on the stars of gas on the opposite side of the park, he was able to add a few of the particulars.

  Meta's eyes glistened with tears, as she said, "Perhaps it would have been too perfect if he had come; but oh, Norman! how good she is to bear it so patiently! And how gloriously he behaved! How can we make enough of him! And Flora out! how sorry she will be!"

  "And she never opened Mary's letter," said Harry, coming back to them.

  "She little thought what it contained," said Meta. "Mary's letters are apt to bear keeping, you know, and she was so busy, that she laid it aside for a treat after the day's work. But there! inhospitable wretch that I am! you have had no dinner!"

  A refection of tea and cold meat was preferred, and in her own pretty manner Meta lavished her welcomes, trying to cover any pain given by Flora's neglect.

  "What makes her so busy?" asked Harry, looking round on the beautifully furnished apartment, which, to many eyes besides those fresh from a Milanesian hut, might have seemed a paradise of luxurious ease.

  "You don't know what an important lady you have for a sister," said Meta merrily.

  "But tell me, what can she have to do? I thought you London ladies had nothing to do, but to sit with your hands before you entertaining company."

  Meta laughed heartily. "Shall I begin at the beginning? I'll describe to-day then, and you must understand that this is what Tom would call a mild specimen--only one evening engagement. Though, perhaps, I ought to start from last night at twelve o'clock, when she was at the Austrian Ambassador's ball, and came home at two; but she was up by eight--she always manages to get through her housekeeping matters before breakfast. At nine, breakfast, and baby--by the bye, you have never inquired for our niece."

  "I have not come to believe in her yet," said Harry.

  "Seeing is believing," said Meta; "but no, I won't take an unfair advantage over her mamma; and she will be fast asleep; I never knew a child sleep as she does. So to go on with our day. The papers come, and Miss Leonora is given over to me; for you must know we are wonderful politicians. Flora studies all the debates till George finds out what he has heard in the House, and baby and I profit. Baby goes out walking, and the post comes. Flora always goes to the study with George, and writes, and does all sorts of things for him. She is the most useful wife in the world. At twelve, we had our singing lesson--"

  "Singing lesson!" exclaimed Harry.

  "Yes, you know she has a pretty voice, and she is glad to cultivate it. It is very useful at parties, but it takes up a great deal of time, and with all I can do to save her in note-writing, the morning is gone directly. After luncheon, she had to ride with George, and came back in a hurry to make some canvassing calls about the orphan asylum, and Miss Bracy's sister. If we get her in at all, it will be Flora's diplomacy. And there was shopping to do, and when we came in hoping for time for our letters, there were the Walkinghames, who stayed a long time, so that Flora could only despatch the most important notes, before George came in and wanted her. She was reading something for him all the time she was dressing, but, as I say, this is quite a quiet day."

  "Stop!" cried Harry, with a gesture of oppression, "it sounds harder than cleaning knives, like Aunt Flora! And what is an unquiet day like?"

  "You will see, for we have a great evening party to-morrow."

  "Do you always stay at home?" asked Harry.

  "Not always, but I do not go to large parties or balls this year," said Meta, glancing at her deep mourning; "I am very glad of a little time at home."

  "So you don't like it."

  "Oh, yes! it is very pleasant," said Meta. "It is so entertaining when we talk it over afterwards, and I like to hear how Flora is admired, and called the beauty of the season. I tell George, and we do so gloat over it together! There was an old French marquis the other night, a dear old man, quite of the ancien regime, who said she was exactly like the portraits of Madame de Maintenon,
and produced a beautiful miniature on a snuff-box, positively like that very pretty form of face of hers. The old man even declared that Mistress Rivers was worthy to be a Frenchwoman."

  "I should like to kick him!" amiably responded Harry.

  "I hope you won't to-morrow! But don't let us waste our time over this; I want so much to hear about New Zealand."

  Meta was well read in Australasian literature, and drew out a great deal more information from Harry than Norman had yet heard. She made him talk about the Maori pah near his uncle's farm, where the Sunday services were conducted by an old gentleman tattooed elegantly in the face, but dressed like an English clergyman; and tell of his aunt's troubles about the younger generation, whom their elders, though Christians themselves, could not educate, and who she feared would relapse into heathenism, for want of instruction, though with excellent dispositions.

  "How glad you must be that you are likely to go!" exclaimed Meta to Norman, who had sat silently listening.

  The sound of the door bell was the first intimation that Harry's histories had occupied them until long past twelve o'clock.

  "Now, then!" cried Meta, springing forward, as if intending to meet Flora with the tidings, but checking herself, as if she ought not to be the first. There was a pause. Flora was hearing downstairs that Mr. Norman May and another gentleman had arrived, and, while vexed at her own omission, and annoyed at Norman's bringing friends without waiting for permission, she was yet prepared to be courteous and amiable. She entered in her rich black watered silk, deeply trimmed with lace, and with silver ornaments in her dark hair, so graceful and distinguished-looking, that Harry stood suspended, hesitating, for an instant, whether he beheld his own sister, especially as she made a dignified inclination towards him, offering her hand to Norman, as she said, "Meta has told you--" But there she broke off, exclaiming, "Ha! is it possible! No, surely it cannot be--"