Part 4 (2/2)
_Rosalie._ I am sure I was punished enough for my curiosity; for when I got on the closet-shelf I was obliged to lie so cramped that I was almost stiff; and I was half dead with cold, notwithstanding I had put on my merino coat. And then I was longing all the time for some of the good things I saw you eating; so that when Miss Harwood came to hide the mince-pie, I could not forbear taking it out of her hand. When I found that you were all so terrified, I thought I would make a noise among the loose papers to frighten you still more, supposing that you would all quit the room; and that then I could come down from the shelf, and regale myself awhile, before I stole back to-bed. I did not foresee that you would overset the table in your flight, and make such a violent noise. But I will never again attempt to pry into other people's secrets.
_Mrs Middleton._ I hope you never will. This feast, you see, has caused nothing but discomfort, which is the case with all things that are in themselves improper. Yet I think the greatest sufferer is Isabella Caldwell's washerwoman, who has, in consequence, been disappointed of her cloak.
_Isabella._ Next week, madam, when I receive my allowance, I hope to be able to buy it for her.
_Mrs. Middleton._ You need not wait till next week. The poor woman shall suffer no longer for a cloak. Here is a dollar in advance; and after school, you can go out and purchase it, so that it may be ready for her to-morrow when she brings home your clothes.
_Isabella._ Dear Mrs. Middleton, how much I thank you.
The young ladies having promised that they would attempt no more private feasts, Mrs. Middleton kissed, and forgave them. After school, Isabella, accompanied by Miss Loxley, went out and bought the plaid cloak, which was sent home directly. Next day, she longed for Diana to arrive with the clothes, that she might enjoy her pleasure on receiving so useful a gift, but, to her great disappointment they were brought home by another mulatto woman, who informed Isabella that she was Diana's next door neighbour, and that poor Diana having taken a violent cold from being out in the snow-storm, was now confined to her bed with the rheumatism.
”Ah!” thought Isabella, ”perhaps if she had had this good warm cloak to go home in, the day before yesterday, she might have escaped the rheumatism. I see now that whenever we allow ourselves to be persuaded to do a thing which we know to be wrong, evil is sure to come from it.”
She desired the woman to wait a few minutes; and hastening to Mrs.
Middleton, begged that she would allow her to go and see poor Diana, who, she feared was in great distress. Mrs. Middleton readily consented, and had a basket filled with various things, which she gave to the woman to carry with the plaid cloak to Diana. She sent by Isabella a bottle of camphor, and some cotton wadding, for Diana's rheumatism, and a medicine for her to take internally. Miss Loxley accompanied Isabella; and they found Diana in bed and very ill, and every thing about her evincing extreme poverty. Isabella engaged the woman to stay with Diana till she got well, and to take care of her and her children, promising to pay her for her trouble. When they returned and made their report to Mrs.
Middleton, she wrote a note to her physician, requesting him to visit Diana and attend her as long as was necessary.
Next week, Henrietta Harwood, and the other young ladies, subscribed all their allowance of pocket-money for the relief of Diana; who very soon was well enough to resume her work. It is unnecessary to add that their contribution to the support of the poor woman and her family, gave them far more pleasure than they had derived from the unfortunate feast. They never, of course, attempted another. And Henrietta Harwood, at Mrs.
Middleton's school, lost all the faults she had acquired at Madame Disette's.
THE WEEK OF IDLENESS.
”Their only labour was to kill the time, And labour dire it was, and weary wo.”
_Thomson._
Adelaide and Rosalind, the daughters of Mr. Edington, looked forward with much pleasure to the arrival of their cousin, Josephine Sherborough, from Maryland. She was to spend the summer with them, at their father's country residence on the beautiful bay of New York, a few miles below the city; and, though they had never seen her, they were disposed to regard Josephine as a very agreeable addition to their family society. Having had the misfortune to lose their mother, Adelaide and Rosalind had been for several years under the entire care of their governess, Mrs. Mortlake; a highly accomplished and most amiable woman, whom they loved and respected as if she had been their parent, and by whose instructions they had greatly profited.
It was on a beautiful evening in June, that Josephine Sherborough was _certainly_ expected, after several disappointments within the last two or three weeks. The Miss Edingtons and their governess were seated on one of the settees in the portico that extended along the front of Mr.
Edington's house. Mrs. Mortlake was sewing, Rosalind reading aloud, and Adelaide, with her drawing materials before her, was earnestly engaged in colouring a sketch of a fis.h.i.+ng-boat at anchor, beautifully reflected in the calm water, and tinted with the glowing rays of the declining sun. As she put in the last touches, she hoped, before the summer was over, that she should improve so much in her drawing as to be enabled to attempt a view of the bay with its green sh.o.r.es; its island fortresses; and its numerous s.h.i.+ps, some going out on a voyage to distant regions, others coming home with the merchandise and the news of Europe.
”Now,” exclaimed Adelaide, ”I see the smoke of the steamboat, just behind Castle Williams. My father and Josephine will soon be here. I am glad my drawing is so nearly completed. In a few minutes it will be finished.”
”And in a few minutes,” said Rosalind, ”I shall conclude the story that I am reading.”
”Do you not now think,” asked Mrs. Mortlake, ”I was right in proposing that we should protract our usual afternoon occupations an hour beyond the usual time, as we are expecting the arrival of your father and your cousin? This last hour would have seemed twice its real length, if we had done nothing, all the while, but strain our eyes in gazing up the bay for the steamboat, saying every few minutes, 'Oh, I wish they were come!'”
In a short time, Adelaide exclaimed, ”Here is the steamboat. I see they are depositing several trunks in the little boat at the side. And now it is let down to the water. And now a gentleman and a young lady descend the steps, and take their seats in it. How fast it cuts its way through the foam that is raised by the tow-line. In a moment it will touch the wharf. Here they come. There is my father; and it _must_ be Josephine that is with him!”
The sisters then ran down the steps of the portico, and in a moment were at the landing-place, where Mr. Edington, as soon as he had a.s.sisted her to step on sh.o.r.e, introduced them to Josephine Sherborough, a fat, fair, pale young lady, about fourteen, with a remarkably placid countenance which immediately won the regard of Rosalind: who determined in her own mind that Josephine was a very sweet girl, and that they should, ever hereafter, be intimate and most particular friends.
Adelaide, who was two years older than Rosalind, and who had more penetration, was not so violently prepossessed in favour of her cousin, whose face she thought deficient in animation, and whose movements were more slow and heavy than those of any young girl she had ever seen.
When tea was over, the sisters proposed to Josephine a walk round the garden, which was large and very beautiful; but she complained of being excessively tired, and said that she would much rather go to bed. This somewhat surprised her cousins, as they knew that Josephine had been three days in the city with the friends under whose care she had come from Maryland; and they thought that she must have had ample time to recover from the fatigue of her journey: to which her last little trip in the steamboat could not have added much. Rosalind, who was a year younger than Josephine, accompanied her to the chamber prepared for her accommodation, where Josephine, looking round disconsolately, inquired if there was no servant to undress her. Rosalind volunteered to perform this office; and Josephine said she would ring the bell for one of the maids, when she wished to get up in the morning.
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