Part 36 (1/2)

The evening pa.s.sed very happily. Eleanor's heart was open, she was full of enjoyment at meeting those she loved, and the two sisters sat long together in the twilight, talking over numerous subjects, all ending in Beechcroft or the baby.

Yet when Lily awoke the next morning her awe of Eleanor began to return, and she felt like a child just returned to school. She was, however, mistaken; Eleanor a.s.sumed no authority, she treated Lily as her equal, and thus made her feel more like a woman than she had ever done before. Lily thought either that Eleanor was much altered, or that in her folly she must have fancied her far more cold and grave than she really was. She had, however, no time for studying her character; shopping and sight-seeing filled up most of her time, and the remainder was spent in resting, and in playing with little Henry.

One evening, when Mr. Mohun and Claude were dining out, Lilias was left alone with Mr. and Mrs. Hawkesworth. Lily was very tired, but she worked steadily at marking Eleanor's pocket-handkerchiefs, until her sister, seeing how weary she was, made her lie down on the sofa.

'Here is a gentleman who is tired too,' said Eleanor, dancing the baby; 'we will carry you off, sir, and leave Aunt Lily to go to sleep.'

'Aunt Lily is not so tired as that,' said Lily; 'pray keep him.'

'It is quite bedtime,' said Eleanor, in her decided tone, and she carried him off.

Lilias took up the knitting which she had laid down, and began to study the st.i.tches. 'I should like this feathery pattern,' said she, '(if it did not remind me so much of the fever); but, by the bye, Frank, have you completed Master Henry's outfit? I looked forward to helping to choose his pretty little things, but I see no preparation but of stockings.'

'Why, Lily, did not you know that he was to stay in England?'

'To stay in England? No, I never thought of that--how sorry you must be.'

At this moment Eleanor returned, and Mr. Hawkesworth told her he had been surprised to find Lily did not know their intentions with regard to the baby.

'If we had any certain intentions we should have told her,' said Eleanor; 'I did not wish to speak to her about it till we had made up our minds.'

'Well, I know no use in mysteries,' said Mr. Hawkesworth, 'especially when Lily may help us to decide.'

'On his going or staying?' exclaimed Lily, eagerly looking to Mr.

Hawkesworth, who was evidently more disposed to speak than his wife.

'Not on his going or staying--I am sorry to say that point was settled long ago--but where we shall leave him.'

Lily's heart beat high, but she did not speak.

'The truth is,' proceeded Mr. Hawkesworth, 'that this young gentleman has, as perhaps you know, a grandpapa, a grandmamma, and also six or seven aunts. With his grandmamma he cannot be left, for sundry reasons, unnecessary to mention. Now, one of his aunts is a staid matronly lady, and his G.o.dmother besides, and in all respects the person to take charge of him,--only she lives in a small house in a town, and has plenty of babies of her own, without being troubled with other people's. Master Henry's other five aunts live in one great house, in a delightful country, with nothing to do but make much of him all day long, yet it is averred that these said aunts are a parcel of giddy young colts, amongst whom, if Henry escapes being demolished as a baby he will infallibly be spoilt as he grows up.

Now, how are we to decide?'

'You have heard the true state of the case, Lily,' said Mrs.

Hawkesworth. 'I did not wish to hara.s.s papa by speaking to him till something was settled; you are certainly old enough to have an opinion.'

'Yes, Lily,' said Frank; 'do you think that the hospitable New Court will open to receive our poor deserted child, and that these said aunts are not wild colts but discreet damsels?'

Playful as Mr. Hawkesworth's manner was, Lily saw the earnestness that was veiled under it: she felt the solemnity of Eleanor's appeal, and knew that this was no time to let herself be swayed by her wishes. There was a silence. At last, after a great struggle, Lily's better judgment gained the mastery, and raising her head, she said, 'Oh! Frank, do not ask me--I wish--but, Eleanor, when you see how much harm we have done, how utterly we have failed--'

Lily's newly-acquired habits of self-command enabled her to subdue a violent fit of sobbing, which she felt impending, but her tears flowed quietly down her cheeks.

'Remember,' said Frank, 'those who mistrust themselves are the most trustworthy.'

'No, Frank, it is not only the feeling of the greatness of the charge, it is the knowledge that we are not fit for it--that our own faults have forfeited such happiness.'

Again Lily was choked with tears.